Tag Archives: jogging

Friday Fictioneers: Non-Believers (6.22.12/Story 4)

Stumbled upon the Blog of Madison Woods and discovered her fabulous idea for Flash Fiction: Friday Fictioneers! A great way to generate ideas, and receive opinions, praise, critiques, etc. from fellow writers.

The goal is to write a 100 word story inspired by a picture that is posted every Wednesday. On Friday, we post our stories, and indulge in everyone’s short pieces. Interesting fun!

Her Site:

www.madison-woods.com

This week’s inspiration:

My story (Enjoy!):

Non-believers

Bobby said stones could talk.

I didn’t believe him.

I had to prove him wrong.

I walked to the bus, sat in the back row, and according to my compass, we were headed north. Next thing, I was waking up alone as the driver announced, “Last Stop.” I didn’t know where we were, but I wasn’t scared. I heard running water, ran, and eventually found the stream.  Stones everywhere. I put my arms up in a V and concentrated hard. Nothing. They rejected me, but a dragonfly landed and screamed my name. I ignored it, and no one believed me.

(Open to constructive criticism, of course)

-MS

 

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Friday Fictioneers: Relief (6.1.12/Week 2)

Stumbled upon the Blog of Madison Woods and discovered her fabulous idea for Flash Fiction: Friday Fictioneers! A great way to generate ideas, and receive opinions, praise, critiques, etc. from fellow writers.

The goal is to write a 100 word story inspired by a picture that is posted every Wednesday. On Friday, we post our stories, and indulge in everyone’s short pieces. Interesting fun!

Her Blog:

www.madisonwoods.wordpress.com

This week’s inspiration:

My story (Enjoy!):

Relief

I ran, jogging around in circles, sun beating against my face. No mercy at 95°, high noon. I felt a second chin this morning covering the sweet spot on my neck. Plump, malleable, soft to the touch, but unforgiving—knowing it had purpose. I hated it, but it was beginning to love me. I ran, sweat pouring down my cheek, gathering in a pool between my breasts. I dabbed, and must have tripped over myself. Lying face down, my chin melting into concrete, needing help; all I could picture: myself, a cup of shaved ice and a snow-capped mountain—forever.

(Open to constructive criticism, of course)

-MS