PHOTO PROMPT © Luther Siler

I’m just lying here waiting. Someone should pick me up any minute now. I wonder who? Propably the boy, he is so fond of me, I enjoy the excitement he expresses when he holds me round the neck. “Oh you big, big bird” he says with a authoritative voice. “Do you want to play?”

“Oh my gosh! Is that big big bird lying there?”

An old man picks me up, holds me with a steady grip under my wings and asks, “Big, big bird, do you remember me?”






Newquay 30/7/2013


 © Sandra Crook

On the beach no one but me wore a windcheater. Ava, wearing her black swim suit, ran towards the water, eager to throw her self in the waves. I lay my self down, close to the cliff for lee. It was as if the Atlantic wind blew right through me and the only way to catch the warmth of the sun was to lie flat. When we got back to the house we found Mike with his feet in a tub of water. He had been stung by a weever fish and whilst noticing the blue and red swelling, Jim declared that he would never ever again swim in the Atlantic ocean.



The boy and the harmonica

  Photo prompt C.E. Ayr

This is my contribution to this week’s  Friday Fictioneers. /Helene

The little boy sits in his stroller, blond hair sticking out from under his grandfather’s checkered cap. He is happy and safe as he plays the harmonica, mommy and daddy right behind him. They are busy talking. At the busstop he bends over trying to reach out for a shoe stuck in the grate. Before his parents have time to react, the harmonica dissapears between the grids, leaving a barely audible clonk as it hits the bottom.


Down Highway One

© Ron Pruitt
They were the last party to enter. They looked happy, but as they overviewed the seats and started to stroll backwards, speaking in some foreign language I didn’t understand, their smiles faded. Almost every seat was taken, and I knew that it inevitably would affect me. Of course I should have offered myself to change seat, and though I realized this was not the ideal moment to practice “not always be so damned accommodating”, I did not act. One of them ended up in front of me and when she turned and asked me, I did not flinch.

This is my third participation in the Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Such anxiety


PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

We were almost there and my anxiety grew. I wished I’d never met him. I could have stayed at home on my sofa like I used to, focusing on a tv-serie or chatting with my friends over a glass of wine. When he suggested it, I felt cool about it, after all, I was a different person now, many CBT sessions later. But when dusk fell and the goal of our journey got closer, I panicked, I shivered, my hands were cold and my breathing short.

I did not want to meet his parents.


The other side of the lake


© Jennifer Pendergast

We’re ready to leave. As soon as our belongings are all packed in, I will grab the stern with my two hands, my left foot in front of the right one, steady on the ground, and shove the canoe into the lake. There’s no wind at all this morning and it keeps me calm. I feel no rush as I climb inside, turn around and hauls in the rope. As the canoe glides through the soft water her eyes meet mine and I know what she prays; everything will be alright on the other side of the lake.

This is my first participation in the Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.