Bright Light


Impossible.  Wasn’t it?  Jenna’s heart beat so fast she could feel it in her head.

“Mommy!  Can people shrink?  Like until they are teeny tiny and too small to see?”

“No, Honey.  Only in the movies.”

Jenna went back into the playroom.  She stared at the toy, picking it up with both hands and  keeping it level.

She carefully set it down on the carpet.

“Trevor! This isn’t funny anymore.  No way you are inside of that toy.  Mom says it’s not possible.”

Trevor didn’t answer but suddenly a peg from the Light Brite popped out.

copywright Marie Gail Stratford

copyright Marie Gail Stratford


 Thanks Rochelle Wiss-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers again this week.  Click on the link to read more short short stories about this photo prompt.


Miguel wandered through the maze of stones searching for the small  purse.  

All the money in his world was tied up in a small bag of cloth wound with twine.  

Had he been careless?  Had he dropped it while the sun scorched through the hat? Had someone carefully lifted it from his side while he rested for a moment?

 Not possible, he thought.  No way this could happen.

He glanced around confused.  How long had he been walking?  Where was his destination?  Was there really a bag of money?

“Sir?  Is this yours?” the angel in the sand whispered.



fridayfictioneer 9 19



100 words for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Photo credit: Dawn Q Landau

Click on this link to read other stories or to join in the fun and write!

Money Up Front

What would it look like in a few weeks?  Margie hoped her client was happy with the design she had created for the bathroom remodel.

The finest Italian Marble in a subdued pattern would be used throughout the room.

Top of the line fixtures, double sink, double commodes, one with a bidet.

Of course that window would have to go.  Everything was ordered and on its way-nonrefundable.

Margie hoped she could handle the finances until a payment was made.

She answered the phone absentmindedly.

“Margie?  I’ve changed my mind on the remodel.  Can we talk?”


copywright Janet Webb



This week’s Friday Fictioneer flash fiction is sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at this link…

Visit her site to participate or to view other stories following this photo prompt.

Featured Image -- 4449

Charm Bracelets, Mothers, and Daughters

Life in the 50's and beyond...:

Last week at our county fair, one of the entries in the antique division was “charm bracelet in a box”. At first I was mortified that my jewelry was now an antique! I enjoyed looking at the charm bracelets and was disappointed in myself for not entering mine. My friend, got a second place award for hers! Back when I wrote this in 2012 I didn’t have many followers, so I am sharing it again. Hope you enjoy it.

Originally posted on Retired Ruth :

“During the 1950′ and 1960’s, the charm bracelet was a must-have accessory for girls.”

….it was the story of your life.  At least for a little while. My bracelet was a Christmas present in 1963. It came with one charm which my mother had purchased along with the sterling silver bracelet.   My mother bought me what she thought was a trumpet…. because I played a trumpet in the school band.  Thing is, she was probably in a hurry, and she probably THOUGHT it was a trumpet… but it was really a trombone!  I was pretty miffed at her.  How could she have made such a stupid mistake?  Of course when you are a 13-year-old girl, your mother doesn’t do many things right. I finally accepted it because one goal of having a truly cool charm bracelet was the number of charms you collected!

During the next few years I…

View original 210 more words

Antique tractors



Lined up like soldiers, the antique tractors are spit-polished and ready for viewing.  They wear uniforms of bright red, green, and yellow as well as  shades of rust and wear. Name tags read:  Case, Allis, Oliver, Farmall, Ford, and John Deere.

Young fathers lift their toddlers high to sit upon the hard metal seats.  Little boys zig zag around the metal soldiers jumping up to “take a ride”.  0906142005


Older couples reminisce about Grandpa’s tractor and how and where they learned to drive.

An elderly farm wife steps carefully around the machinery.  She moves slowly as if searching for something she has lost.  A smile takes over as she stops next to a faded, orange tractor.  She caresses the front panel and her hands trace the lettering on the side.  Sixty years ago she was a young bride watching her farmer work the ground on a tractor similar to this one.    She remembers a picnic lunch in the forty acre field next to their barn.  A quick bite and precious moments spent together before  returning to work.  “Make hay while the sun shines.”  That’s what he always said.  Family and social life revolved around the farm schedule.  She remembers attending a wedding by herself because rain was headed this way and the wheat had to be harvested.

There had been hard times when Mother Nature didn’t provide what was needed.  Jobs off the farm had been necessary to survive.    There had been bumper crops when a new tractor became a reality and some long-awaited updates to the house could be completed. The good times outweighed the bad.   The best memories were times spent together, even if it was handing nuts and bolts and parts to her farmer lying under the combine, trying to quickly fix a breakdown and get back to the harvest.  Picnics on the tailgate of the old pickup truck with the kids chasing grasshoppers and lightning bugs and racing back to the house beside the truck. It had been a good life, hard at times, but in the end they had been comfortable and happy and could view their accomplishments from the kitchen window.

It was the second year since her farmer had passed.   She couldn’t bear to come and browse the antique farm tractors the first year.  It had been a special time they had shared through the years.  It was just a small part of the county fair often overlooked, but one of their favorite spots.  She was alone for the first time in the midst of the aging equipment.  But only for a little while.

“Grandma!  We’re here.”  Her grandchildren ran to her side.  “Was this Grandpa’s tractor?”

0906141959c (1)

She hugged them and smiled, “Let me tell you a story.”


It Soothes the Savage Beast

  Huddled together, a hundred inmates sat cross legged with chains connecting their wrists.  The hot sun scorched the ground and concrete and the men became uneasy, agitated.  Guards with billyclubs and badges reflecting the heat paced around the mob.

Suddenly shouting began at the back of the group as the lanky stranger made his way to the front.   The shouting fermented into an uproar as the man stopped dead center.   Mean-looking and yet strangely unpretentious, he slowly lifted the strap from his shoulder.

With guitar in place and a deep baritone voice he began:

“Love …. is a burning thing….”


Photo  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


100 words


One hundred words.  A photo prompt, this week created by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Recipe for Friday Fictioneers.

Read other fictioneers at this site.

Lost in Madison Woods

I stumble.  I fall.  Gnats and flies and mosquitoes buzz around my head.  My arms and legs resemble a pepperoni pizza.   I would give anything for a pepperoni pizza at this point.

Or just a glass of water.  I squint toward the distant light but my eyes are almost swollen shut.

Got to be near the end.  Almost there.  Just a little further.  Someone would be looking for me, right?  Did I tell anyone where I was going?

One step at a time.

There in front of me is the chrysalis… the same one I saw three days ago.



friday fictioneer 8 29 14

photo credit to Madison Woods



My entry for Friday Fictioneers.  One hundred words.   A photo prompt.

Link here to read what others had to say this week.


Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our weekly hostess!