The Tiburtine — Friday Fictioneers

January 10, 2019 / JoHawkTheWriter / 25 Comments

Title: The Tiburtine
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Priya Bajpal

Something wasn’t right. The feeling gestated in the pit of my stomach, seeking form, yet defying description.

Sitting in Sibyl’s vacant apartment did little to settle me. On the coffee table sat a mason jar filled with brightly colored and folded slips of paper. Countless time I had tried to open it, to no avail.

The door slammed, and I jumped as Sibyl appeared. She easily opened the jar and deposited two slips of folded paper before replacing the lid.

“Have you figured it out?” she asked.

The truth hit me.

“You record the words of the gods.”

Sibyl smiled.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Was Blind — Friday Fictioneers

January 2, 2019 / JoHawkTheWriter / 40 Comments

Title: Was Blind
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Russell Gayer

Rosie lived inside a Wall she couldn’t see until the stranger sat in her booth.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?” Rosie tucked the pencil behind her ear and stuffed the order pad in her pocket.

“Live with the Wall,” he said, as he turned to look outside. “Aren’t you claustrophobic?”

Rosie followed his gaze.

“Coffee?” he prodded.

She remembered nothing else about him. The Wall followed her now, lurking outside windows, looming over buildings, creeping forward to clutch her throat with knobby fingers.

Rosie planned, engineered her freedom, fearing what would happen if she didn’t escape.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Undying Love — Friday Fictioneers

December 27, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 21 Comments

Title: Undying Love
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

Javier sat on the cemetery wall, checking his list, and tried to ignore the bleating goat. He promised Alma he would follow her instructions tonight and he couldn’t disappoint her. Long ago, he had pledged his love and swore to protect her with his life. She said it would never come to that.

That night the cemetery lay shrouded in eerie silence. The full moon illuminated the goat and voodoo relics swimming in a pool of blood on the discarded marble slab.

Javier knelt, marveling at Alma’s pale skin sparkling in the wan light and raised her from her slumber.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Countdown — Friday Fictioneers

December 14, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 46 Comments

Title: Countdown
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

During the previous window, there was a moment, when it almost connected. Since then, the sisters had been working ceaselessly. They consulted the ancient texts, checked the schematics and reread the prophecy.

Sister Minette insisted they were close. She felt the equipment only needed minor tweaking. Sister Prudence demanded they pull it apart, dissect and question everything they believed.

They had been pursuing the answer for centuries, and in recent years, technological advances had given them new hope. It was hope they needed.

Sister Minette was giddy when they loaded the equipment into their cars and headed for the rendezvous.

***Note: Read about The Rendezvous here.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

One More Step — Friday Fictioneers

December 5, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 55 Comments

Title: One More Step
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

I step past the tangled tree limbs encroaching on the railroad bridge, stopping at the edge.

“Do you dare step onto the bridge?” the voice asked. “One more step and no one can save you.”

I crossed hundreds, thousands of bridges, in my traveling years. I had never heard this voice.

“One. More. Step.”

I glanced around. I was alone.

Fast-moving water churned thirty feet below, the chill wind tugged my threadbare coat, my pack dug into my shoulders the weight a ton of bricks.

I stood.

Minutes? Hours? A lifetime?

Time to go home. It was one more step.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Sentinels — Friday Fictioneers

November 28, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 58 Comments

Title: Sentinels
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

I will never forget the day the fire consumed everything. Dad’s business, his life’s work, reduced to ashes. Dad, in typical Dad fashion, found hope. He saw charred foundations that refused to succumb. Sentinels of fortitude.

Dad smiled, “It could have been worse,” he said, and I wondered what he thought might be worse than what lay before us.

“You are young, there is much you haven’t seen. No lives were lost, only things. It’s a minor setback, a test to determine our character, to measure our resolve.”

Today, I mourn my father. His words echoing in my broken heart.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Catch of the Day — Friday Fictioneers

November 21, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 52 Comments

Title: Catch of the Day
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

I waded into the freezing water.

Ma fished upstream where I had fought my sister for the salmon Ma caught. Tired, I headed downstream, searching for my spot. Water gushed over a rock ledge and hidden beneath it sat a salmon.

I waded deeper. The salmon rested in a channel, facing the rock wall. I cut off his exit, grabbed hold with both paws, claws sinking into fish flesh.

I clamped my jaws around him as he flopped, spraying water everywhere. Gripping him in my mouth, I ran for the grassy bank. This salmon was mine, and I wasn’t sharing.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Watched — Friday Fictioneers

November 14, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 47 Comments

Title: The Watched
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

Josh scanned the area, ever vigilant. It was quiet. He saw no one. Still, they could be watching. They watched, long distance, and the Borg people made it easy. He tossed his pack watching it land. It thumped on solid ground. A final scan. Satisfied he climbed the railing, feet dangling he let go.

Under the bridge was everything he needed, clean water, a rock chair, and a place to sleep. The waterline said the flooding wouldn’t reach him. Content, he unpacked supplies from his pack and prepared his camp. In the daylight, he could sleep. Tonight, he would run.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Altered Potential — Friday Fictioneers

November 7, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 52 Comments

Title: Altered Potential
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

Takoda drove his truck on the wide ribbon of black asphalted four-lane highway. Power lines echoed the roads curves, slashing black streaks across the brilliant blue sky.

He wondered at the trees planted beneath power lines. He cried at the misshapen forms they adapted to grow in a world where men prevented them from reaching their true potential. He didn’t understand the lack of logic.

They planted trees knowing they would grow, knowing their branches would intertwine with the lines and require cutting. Five feet of distance and trees and power lines could coexist. It would have changed the world.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Endgame — Friday Fictioneers

October 31, 2018 / JoHawkTheWriter / 55 Comments

Title: Endgame
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

The tables sit in a straight line. Twelve tables, twelve chess boards, twenty-four opponents each with sixteen pieces, all three hundred and eighty-four pieces engaged in battle to decide the crowning of Grand Master.

The arbiters circled like vultures waiting for the dead, held in check by the tick-tock of the game clock. The opponents fall and regroup striving for the prize.

I am the endgame, unseen, observing, manipulating. My eyes level with the boards, I influence each move.

Achieving the 8th rank, passed pawn promoted queen I look to my twin, we push the king to check and victory.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer