Meet the Beat

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

The new piece unfolded in his head during the long flight. The chords danced to the beat of the flickering red light on the airplane’s wing and the turbulence lent base to the melody. It was perfect. He’d have written the notes right there and then had it not been for his propensity to motion sickness. Staring out the window was the only remedy. Sometimes the best inspiration.

“Let it go, let it go!” his daughter’s singing in her room welcomed him home.

And the nascent harmonies obeyed, dispersed, let gone.

 

For The Friday Fictioneers June 29 2018 Challenge

Market Day

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

 

“Where is that boy?” Hassan demanded.

“I sent your son to your father,” Um-Ali responded from below.

Her voice was calm in the way that often enraged him. As if she’s talking to a baby, he fumed.

“What were you thinking?!” he exploded. “You know I need him on market day!”

“I know you need help on market day,” she stated. “I called Mustafa.”

Her brother. Lord of bossy annoyance. Hassan glowered at his wife.

She chuckled. “You look exactly as Ali had this morning when he thought he’d have to go with you.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers June-22-2018

Sentry Lesson

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

 

“It isn’t armor that makes one a good kitchen-window sentry,” he instructed the younglings during a quick peck break.

“Is it the blade?” piped Pepper and stretched a leg to critically eye a very immature spur.

The bird clucked fondly at the chick. Always the feisty one, Pepper was. Last to emerge from the egg but first in every yard-race since.

“No, Son,” the quail stretched tall. “It is all in the plume. Once it grows, hold it high, bob it well.”

 

 

To join Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers prompt, click here.

 

Waiting for Sam

Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt © Roger Bultot

 

He’ll meet her at the exhibition at Noon, he’d promised.

“You’ll see. Twelve on the dot.”

“Like Cinderella?” she had joked.

“Sort of.”

She scanned the crowds, the balconies, the empty domes that rose above like marble skies.

Laughter echoed. People milled around.

She checked her watch again.

It had inched, traitorous, well past twelve o’clock.

Like Cinderella with no fairy godmother, she thought.

Never should have eaten that pumpkin Sam had bought.

 

 

 

To join Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers prompt, click here.

Digging to China

Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt © Connie Gayer

 

He didn’t want to hear a word against the possibility.

“It is a round world, Meg,” he said,

And listened not to facts nor feasibility.

“China is there at the bottom, you will see.”

He said and spread the shovels all around for company.

It’s been a long first year of him retired

And the days stretched on.

“Go ahead, dear,” Meg agreed,

For China may let her keep her sanity indeed.

 

 

To join Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers prompt, click here.