Cotton candy… Fresh fries… Hot chocolate…

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Cotton candy… Fresh fries… Hot chocolate…

The smells of the winter carnival wafted through my window as I pressed the button to roll it up.

Removing my Glock 9 from the glove compartment, I slide it in my ankle holster.

My service revolver was on my hip, but I always felt more dressed with a backup.

Another after-hours tip. Anonymous, of course.

Upon hearing the recording, I recognized the voice.

Didn’t know the person, but the last two tips from her panned out.

Looking around, there were at least three of them.

Who would have thought I would be arresting Santa tonight, hopefully before another murder.

To read other stories in this prompt challenge collection… CLICK HERE.

Written for WAFT: WOTDC and Friday Fictioneers.

As We Approach the Back Wall … South Boston

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Yes, as you can see from the small contingency of police here, we had, what we thought, a break-in… but it’s been decided that apparently it was faulty wiring in the alarm system.”

“I assure you, it’s very safe to tour the downstairs winery in the catacombs.”  

“At this very spot Montresor, a favored character of Poe, invited Fortunato for his last sip of ‘the wine of very fine vintage’.”

“This back wall was the tomb of the imprisoned.”

One of the teens in the group interrupted. “Did you know the masonry between these bricks is moist to the touch?”   

FYI: There was a legend in the time of Poe (while he was stationed at Fort Independence) of a sword dual between Lieutenant Robert Massie and Lieutenant Gustavus Drane because of a dispute in a card game. Lieutenant Massie killed Lieutenant Drane. Friends of Lieutenant Drane’s chained Massie to a vault in the inner walls of this cellar… imprisoning him by building a secondary wall.

The legend is not true.

The sword fight did happen on Christmas Day 1817. . Massie was court-martialed and acquitted of all charges. Massie death is record it have happened in 1846.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

And Then There’s Curb-Appeal

That’s the 57th car that has slowly driven by since lunch, Daddy. That radio commercial with me singin’ must really be working.” Amanda was beaming.

“I do believe we have a hit, honey.” Dad tousled the curly hair atop his daughter’s head. “What’a you think, Charlotte?”

“You nailed the commercial, but you ain’t gonna make any money with slow drivers that stare.  

“So Miss All-knowing, what’a you think we need to do?”

“Well, maybe having the jingle was money well spent, but a lot could be said for improving the curb appeal of this place.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Doctor Hyde Rides Again

“Is that what I think it is?”

Doctor Jedidiah Hyde grinned. “Now that completely depends.” I actually think that he stifled a snicker. Can you imagine the world’s leading astro-physio-anthropologist giggling?

“It looks like the top of one of the spirit totems illustrations in our First Nations text.”

“Yes, it does,” Doctor Murphy agreed.

“So what is making this luminance projection?”

“Not a projection…” he replied. Again, I was sure I heard a slightly muffled chuckle. “The spirit world is all around us. We just couldn’t see it. Now we can.”

Doctor Hyde burst into a fit of demonic cackling.

Written for Friday Fictioneers: October 29, 2021. (Use the photo prompt provided to create a 100 word flash fiction piece.)

Cutting Corners

PHOTO PROMPT © Trish Nankivell

Cutting Corners

“A lock on the paper dispenser? Are you kidding me?”

“I’m tired of you replacing the roll with the cheap stuff.”

“Do you know how much money I can save… We save… each week because I find ways to cut corners?”

“I love you. You know that. But we both have good paying jobs, we can afford the good stuff.”

“It’s for crap, you know.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“It’s for crap, and then … Swish… and it’s gone.”

“Why don’t you cut some corners on that fancy moisturizer you use every night?”

“So, you’re going to go there? You want me to be thirty with more ridges in my face than the garden in the back.”

“You’re already more than thirty. Besides I didn’t marry you because I thought you were a beauty.”

“What does that mean?”

“That didn’t come out right.”


“You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Keep talking.”

“I don’t care what you spend on that special moisturizer of yours. I just want MY toilet paper.”

“So why that paper?”

“You already know. I don’t like how it’s tough enough to cut corners.”

Written for Writer’s Digest Flash Fiction February Challenges: Challenge #5 Today’s prompt is to write about a couple.

Written for Friday Fictioneers: February 5, 2021.

Peace, at Last

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Peace, at Last

Breaking News: The United States has just declared a moratorium on nastiness. No longer will advocacy groups be used as pawns to segregate people by race or ethnicity. Politicians have both promised and mandated: “Only truth will be spoken.” Words of malice, vindictiveness and spitefulness will be set aside.

A truth coalition has been established to facilitate this endeavor. It has been given full power to sanction dissenters. Rehabilitative centers are ready to assist all malcontents in coming to terms in the accepting of truth. If you know the names and/or whereabouts of struggling malcontents call for help. 1-800-FREEDOM REIGNS.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.  Requirements: Use the PHOTO PROMPT provided. Write a complete story based on it in 100 words or less: Beginning. Middle and End.

I Love You Soooooo Much!

PHOTO PROMPT @ Jan Wayne Fields

I Love You Soooooo Much!

“There now. Doesn’t that just make you feel good all over? A place for everything, and everything in its place.” Agatha smiled at me triumphantly and briskly rubbed her hands together giving herself a gratifying self-high-five.

Aggie was always ready to help me out. Didn’t matter the time. Didn’t matter the place. Didn’t matter the skillset needed. Aggie was there for me 24/7. It was exhausting!

“Thanks Aggie. I love my new workspace.”

“I knew you would. I’ll leave you to it, now.”

“Thanks, again, Aggie,” I said as she was leaving. “Now where did she hide my thumb drives?”

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Megabots Are Real

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Megabots Are Real

“I see him. I see him.” Broodan couldn’t hide the fear in his squeaky twelve-year-old voice.


“There’s no way he can see us hiding here in the ditch?”

“Is there something unclear about ‘sssshhhh’?

“I know ‘sshhh’. Do you know ‘Holy Crap!!!’ That’s the gianormous robot from my comic books you said I was wasting my time reading.”

“Unless you have something helpful to say, now’s not the time to be snarky.”

“Is it being too snarky to know that this comic book tells you how to kill that creepoid?”

I grabbed the book from his hand. “What page?”

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

I’ve Seen You Drive


I’ve Seen You Drive

Lady Templesworth wheeled onto the pier. Smiting the brake, she pressed the lift enclosing the convertible and shut-off the engine simultaneously.

Quickly disembarking. Lord Templesworth tried to get to the driver’s door of the pink Ferrari before his wife could exit on her own.

She won.

Racing to the dock, she exclaimed, “It’s pink!”

“Completely renovated. Teak decks. Your signature paint. A master and guest berth. A gourmet kitchen. An entertainment room. And of course, the accompanying necessities.”

“It’s beautiful. HoneyBear, why buy this lovely yacht before you’ve taught me to navigate?”

“Entirely a business decision, My PookeyBear. I’ve seen you drive.”

FYI: I cheated a little. I counted Lord Templesworth’s and Lady Templesworth’s name as one word each.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.


PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast
PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast


“It’s nothin’ to it.”

“Are you sure, Jesse?”

“You’ve heard Uncle Bo talk about train-hopping to go somewhere-or-nother almost every night we camped.”

“But Ma said half-a-what Uncle Bo said was rose-glassed reminiscing.”

“Ma just said that to keep us home longer. Pa needed us to do the farmin’. Well, there’s no farmin’ left. Pas drunk it all away and the bank got the dirt now. You know Ma is going back East. I ain’t a-goin-be no city dandy. Is that what you want?”

“’Course I don’t”

“Then stop bein’ so fickle-hearted and let’s run.”

“Wyoming, here we’s a come!”

Written for Friday Fictioneers: August 8, 2020