The Call


Written as part of a weekly challenge called Friday fictioneers,

I stare at the screen.   The contact looks back.   With one tap, I get through to her.   I pause. The screen goes black.   The dance continues on and off.  The glow comes and goes.

I see the church in the distance.   My heart slows.   Which choice do I make? The past or a future.  Maybe part time both.  

I tap the phone back to life.  It goes black.   I want to do this.   I tell myself to act. Hell, even the phone is a secret.

I toss it the fancy trash can.

I pull out my phone.   “Honey, I’m out early.   How about some lunch?”

The past wins today.

Part 2 ….

Part 3…



Written add part of a weekly challenge called Friday fictioneers details…          


Photo Credit – Sandra Crook

“It’s call Time!”  Dr Phillips addresses the College Provost.

He switches the phone to the other hand.  

“We were very clear.   Yes, the design was to be innovative.  Yes, it needed to embody the purpose of this esteemed institution.  Yes, it was to be bold enough to stand out,  but explainable….”

“No, no it’s really a good reflection. .. really?   It’s timeless.   New materials in titanium.   Time is eschew.  We are moving part of Earth to a new means….Yes, sir.  My daughter was the designer.”

The phone call ends.



PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

“Having a sunny disposition is very important! ”  looking down her nose Spring talks to her neighbor.

Sleepy eyes barely crack open.   Looking up at his friend, a soft sigh emerges. “Maybe I’m just not a morning person”

“What??!! Why woukd you sleep?   You came up late enough to the party! I mean look at you! Half open, it’s the middle of the day!” Spring cuts him off.

“It’s just you are you.   And well, I’m not.   Bright yellow, a piece of beaming Sunshine.   Why the hell aren’t you called Sunshine?  Really?! Spring is a little presumptuous.  You do share it with us other flowers.” He replies.

“Silly, little tulip.  Without me, well there is no Spring.” 

Written as part of a weekly challenge called Friday fictioneers.   Http://

Stairs up

Photo Credit Amy Reese

The park once held a raging beast.  It’s metal skeleton bears the torture victims would endure.  The overgrown vines and trees kept most of it out of view.  But the local children knew it was there.

“Mike, you are scared! Go climb the stairs.  Not those the ones to the top. Afraid it’ll wake up.  Chicken?” Gary acted like his big brother.  

“I’m not sscccared!  It’s an old ride. Not a beast!  I’ll show you!” Mike shook but ran up.

The wind picked up.   A loud metal groan filled the air.  A roar.  A scream.  A growl.  Then quiet.

Sleepy Town Awakes


Copyright Jean L. Hays

Written as part of a weekly challenge. See for details.

It’s a restless night journey.   Max had taken the wrong road.  The winding road spills out into a crossroads. His eyes heavy. The bridge and river seem a mirage.

His stomach calls out for breakfast.   The mind tends to forget food when driving.   A beacon pierces the fog in his mind.  A glowing sign from above.   Coffee shop door cries out for his attention.

He finds a spot across the street.  His mind swims. His directions were lousy.  He was told he would know when he got there.   His target might be through the same door. A human hunter is never an easy job.   They’re most unpredictable once they leave their routine. He secures the small case out of the backseat. 

The door pops open before him.   He steps back to let another customer pass through.   In the background, those long blonde curls fall against the face locked in his mind.   A busy cafe wasn’t the right place for a man of business.

Forty minutes crawl by.   His egg platter special drawn out as long as possible.  Four coffees that he well regret later.

The chance to make his move finally comes. Her last customer leaves.

“Crystal, you are a hard person to find.   This is yours! It’s all you have left.” Max hands her the case. Smiles and leaves.

“I don’t understand.  How do you know me?” She asks to the man fading into the street.

Hello, Where have You Been?


Part of Friday fictioneers challenge. For details or to participate

PHOTO PROMPT – © Scott L. Vannatter

“We need to talk. It seems the food bowl is empty again!   I’m not sure what’s going on here!  I’ve taken the time to pull out the folder with our agreement.   I only live here because I get fed timely, brushed, pampered, unlimited amounts of catnip, free reign in the bed, and you’re off at some work thing allowing me the fifteen hours of sleep necessary to keep me happy.”  Oscar flips his tail.  

No response comes from his human.

“Hello! My food please! I haven’t cat bit anyone in awhile.  You see the tree in the next room.  Im glad you left it stocked in play toys.   But I really need to eat.  I was about to knock everything off the table.  But you showed up.  Now about that food…”



PHOTO PROMPT- © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The quiet misty morning broke.   Like many before it, the sun rays pried at the twilight.  Strange loud sounds.  Thumps against the ground.   First shaking the air.   Like ripples on a pond, they splashed against the world.  The sound turned to the house slowly being to shake.

Julie roused from bed.  Looks around her room for what is happening.   The shaking causes her to run to the kitchen window.   Surely there’s something headed her way.

“Oh those damn Star Wars people!  I can’t believe they are matching out walkers to advertise the new movie.   If I could just be in a galaxy far, far away. …”

Penthouse Gone Wild


Photo Credit Roger Bullitt
Part of Friday fictioneers challenge, see details at
The December Sun barely lights the scene.  Birds fly quick short routes in and out of shaggy patches of half dead plants. Below trucks fight with cars for control of the street.  The horn sounds say the trucks are winning.

The morning brings a stir. The old building shows it’s first sign of life.  An elevator long forgotten opens.

“You paid what for this?” George looks sideways at his brother.

The same face with five less years on it stares back.  “It was a steal!  Next year it’s all condos. And this view. .. more then the whole thing cost!”

Washed Away

Photo Credit C E Ayrs

Written as part of the Friday fictioneers challenge details can be found here.

It starts a a trickle.  A line of water.  Braided across the pavement.   It comes from a large forgotten field.   It’s the low rumble that wasn’t heard.

“Keri,  I’m across from the park!  Where are you?   It’s 10:15. What’s going on?” Sheila states at her phone.   Her gaze turns to the sky.   The clouds have parted, but the sky is still angry.

Sheila walks to the bench across the street.  The rain sits heavy on the ground.   Her eyes see a green hill leading to a lake.   If it wasn’t wet she would go up there.

The phone shakes her from the gaze.   A single sound, the rumble went unnoticed. The wall of water doesn’t.

The last sound Keri hears is a scraping noise. The line goes dead.



PHOTO PROMPT – © Dale Roberson

The legendary snakeroot finally broke the surface of the water.  Its was rumored to be the cause of the six drownings in Lake Pleasant this summer. The stories about the plant go back to early settlers.  It’s rarely seen.   Mixed in with cattails, it might as well be invisible.

“Boss, let me get this straight.   I’m going to a mud pit of a pond.  I’m going to find a legendary plant that drowns people?!…..”David Daily looks at his phone in disbelief.   Years of award winning investigative journalism flash in his head.  “I mean it’s an urban legend.   Not my wheel house.  How about you send an intern?  Let then cut their teeth on the big story. …I see, you are serious…. ok. I’ll put the triple murder investigation aside, sir.”

Headline next morning. . Seventh Victim of the Lake