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Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, Adela patiently waited for something to bite, but the bait she was using wasn’t interesting the fish. Her patience was getting thin and she was feeling very close to giving up when she remembered what Hank told her,


“They will bite, just be patient. Remember, they will test you first.” .


“If I could just get a nibble, all I need is a nibble.She thought to herself.


It was getting late in the evening and her frustration was mounting.


“Hank’s going to kill me. He wanted to reel in at least one John tonight.”


Just then the bartender winked at her and sat her drink down in front of her,


“Want to meet me in my room after I get off of work for a fifty?”


Adela winked back and set her hook. (130 words)


“Monday’s Finish the Story” Challenge is graciously hosted by Barbara Beachem. She provides us with the first sentence and a photograph for us to base our stories on. If you are interested in joining this challenge, click this link:

Monday’s Finish the Story

 

 

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The Statue

The Romans brutally forced their way into our city that night, killing all who stood in their way, with no respect for life. Homes burned among screams being devoured by massive flames. I heard the beating of horses hooves along with the sounds and smells of the dying. Blood ran thick in the street and the acrid smell of death and thick black smoke suffocated my senses. Chaos ran rabid and hell itself had descended upon my city.

Then I saw her. The tiny little one covered in blood and clinging to the body of her dead mother. I ran toward her, certainly not thinking of my own mortality. I scooped her up and fled from that nightmarish scene. I took her home, to the servants quarters of the palace, and raised her as my own.

She grew into a beautiful woman, kind, good hearted and loving to all. She was fortunate to be unscathed from her past. To my delight, she loved me as though I was her real mother. Little did I know she indeed remembered her mother and twenty-three years later would avenge the Romans for her death. She became a magnificent statue, always to be remembered. (200 words)

Sunday Photo Fiction Photo Prompt
Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Alastair Forbes who provides us with a photo prompt and challenges us to write a story, using 200 words or less. Our story is required to have some type of reference to the photo prompt.

If you would like more information or wish to join in the Photo Fiction fun, please click on this link:
 

 

 

 

 

A Silly Romance Story

Time for Friday Fictioneers! Hosted by our gracious leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, author of the blog, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright Melanie Greenwood
A Silly Romance Story

“This picture was taken on a very special day. Ricky told me to go through the labyrinth to get to the gazebo and he had a surprise waiting for me. I was so excited! I knew what it was and I had hoped for this moment for the past six months.”

“Tell me about the labyrinth. Was it easy to get through?”

“It took me ten minutes, but finally I made it to the end. I wanted to get to the gift that awaited me.”

“Tell me what it was, I think I might know.”

Sighing heavily, “A promise ring.”

 

100 words not counting title.

 

Rattle Snake River

Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River in Latchahatchi County, Texas. My grandpa use to tell me stories about Diamond Jack and his motley gang. His legend began in the early 1800’s during the time folks were moving west to homestead land in order to own the title free and clear. Diamond Jack and his outlaw gang would lie in wait hiding and hold up the unsuspecting wagons as they were coming through.

Legend has it that as the gang were coming around a hill to surprise a wagon train, they were met head on by a tribe of Apache Indian warriors that shot the gang members with poison arrows, damn near skinned them alive before they could take their last breath. Everyone said that thieving gang got just what was coming to ’em and no tears were shed for their brutal demise. One wagon train coming through found their rotting bodies, all of em’ missing their hair. (150 words)

Monday Finish the Story Challenge. Write a story of 150 words using the photo prompt and the first sentence of, “Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River.” Link your story’s url to inLinkz little blue frog for, Monday’s Finish the Story, which is kindly hosted by Barbara. If you would like to join in this flash fiction fun, click here for more information.

 

A Letter from the Battlefield of the Civil War

Waiting for James Henry


Written by James Henry Triplett

Ship Point, York Co. Va.

September 4, 1861

My Dear Mother and Sister,

I received both of your kind letters late last night and was indeed very glad to hear from home again. I have had a bad spell of Bilious fever since we left Yorktown and am very week (sic) yet. If I take proper care of myself I shall be as well as ever. I think that this may be a healthier place than Yorktown, but the water is very bad, mudy (sic), and salty. We are encamped on a point of land on the Bay, covered with pines. We have pine poles for a bed, pine poles for a table, and pine poles to cook with, and have to make a smoke with pine brush in front of our tents at night to keep off mosquitoes. I received the oil cloth and drawers that were sent and like them very well. I do not know whether to send for my overcoat or not but I will need another blanket pretty soon. If you have any chance to send a small box I would like to have some paper & envelopes ink & pens,(jsp?) I would like to have some butter too, but you need not trouble too much. We can get plenty of fish and sweet potatoes here and a few chickens, by exchanging our bacon.

 

Our regiment has never been paid off yet. We have not seen anything of the Yankees yet except ships, we see vessels sailing down the Cheasepeake (sic) everyday and one of the Blockade Steamers is constantly in sight. Jim Young, Bob Coleman, (not sure of this next name) Stringler or Stringles or Dringles or Dringler; and several others were out scouting last night. They caught a Tori Verginian (sic), near fortrep Munroe; who was keeping a light house on some point there, for the Yankees. He was sent to Yorktown this morning.

Gen Hill is here looking well as ever. We can hear heavy firing here almost everyday, and our chance for a fight are pretty good.

I would like very much to be at home now, to eat apples & peaches.

Our time will be out about the 18th of Nov. The I will be home to spend the winter as soon as I get there. Give my love to all the family. I want to see you all very much. Give my love to all my friends, and write again soon.

Yours Affectionately

James

This is all the paper that I’ve got and it is borrowed, so I wrote to both of you at once. James

James Henry Triplett

Born: November 3, 1843

Died: July 1, 1863 ( Died in the Civil War in the Battle of Gettysburg)

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Forgive me for it being over 200 words. I was going to write a story about a mother, sister, or wife waiting for their soldier to return home from war. I remembered the original letter that I have which was written by my distant cousin to his mother and sister. I felt this might be very interesting to the other participants and readers of this challenge.

As a footnote, James Henry’s sister and another brother, died the same year as his him, 1863.

 

Depth from a Porch

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Depth.”

Although I took this photo during our last snow, this is what it looks like here in the Four Corners today.  It is cold and snowing. This probably isn’t a good photo to use for depth but I’m using it anyway.

A View From my Porch
A View From my Porch

Friday Fictioneers Jan 30, 2015

Dusk was falling fast on the high security prison, filling Ray's cell with an eerie dusty light. Anticipating his last meal, Ray knew he had chosen well, T-bone steak, baked potato; corn, a whole wheat bun and apple pie ala-mode.

Later, the guards came and led him down the long hall to the electricity room, where they put him in a chair and tied a black hood over his head.

After making sure he was secure, the old guard yelled, “Ready! Set! Power the juice!”

Ppppzzzzzzzzzttt

(Ray wasn't dead).

Ppppzzzzzzzzttt

(Still wasn't dead).

“Oh hell! Get em' up. He lives.”

  • ~100 words~

copyright: Ted Strutz

It is time once again for Friday Fictioneers, which is graciously hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Our challenge is to write a story, using the photo prompt given, with a beginning, middle, and end, in 100 words or less. It's fun. Join us.

If you are interested in participating, click:

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple