Playing With Love

This is it, my secret clubhouse! Now you’ll know the whole of me…!

Copyright-Dawn Q. Landau

This?

Yes, this!

Seems a bit worn down. Useless.

Well, I’m not certain about that, and it IS mine.

All yours?

All mine!

I think I’ll take it. Yeah, I want it. It’s mine.

But I was only sharing. I wasn’t actually offering…

I don’t care about that. I want it. I own it now.

But… I loved it.

You shoulda kept it secret then. Like I did all my loves.

But I already gave you everything…

Yeah, well you’ll think better next time now, won’t ya?

•••

As the above may (in my usual convoluted and overly dramatic fashion) indicate, this will be my last foray into the Friday Fictioneers clubhouse.

I would really like to thank Rochelle and the rest of my fellow Fictioneers for the support and sense of family that you’ve provided me with while we’ve been together.

I’ll miss you – God Speed.

Bad Old World

Where some see doors, others hear voices. And just as doors can be either opened or closed, voices too, can be listened too or ignored. And in either scenario, every once in a great while, a person can have that glimpse backward, one just long enough as to realize that they will never return to the bad old world…

That was where this week’s Friday Fictioneer prompt took me, and here is the hundred plus words that resulted from that train of thought. I hope you enjoy…

Copyright – Rich Voza

Justin… I can’t stand it anymore, the jumble-fuzzy goin’ on up in me ‘ead. It’s too noisy, a right muffled-roar cacophony, it is.

C’mon, you’ve gotta get yerself outta there, is what.

Outta where?

Outta your ‘ead, is what. You’ve a bad case of listening too much to yer own voices, mate, n’ not nearly enough to others.

What others?

Yer friends. Yer tribe. Yer voices of reason. Y’know, all them blokes what tells you how nice n’ good n’ beautiful on the inside you is.

Oh… But they’re just being nice.

Right they are! And why’dya think they’d be doing that, then?

Hmmm. Supposin’ it’s maybe they be taking a shine to me?

The real You, they do!

Justin… Are they right in doin’ so?

I suppose you’ll never know, not until you do likewise.

•••

(yes, you’ll have to listen to the song to see how the story ends.)

Thousands Are Sailing

OK Friday Fictioneers. I know that by the mere fact that I’m “mashing” these two prompts together, I’m foregoing any publishing possibilities. But still I felt strongly enough that you should all know of Red’s “Flash In The Pan” series, as I see this as a worthwhile endeavor, deserving of your unbridled talent. That being said, here’s my response to both Flash In The Pan‘s “Regress” prompt, as well as this week’s Fictioneer photo:

Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

Disdain.

He couldn’t quite explain it, but disdain was exactly what his mouth tasted at that very moment.

The dull roar of clamoring footsteps, in slow regress through the main hall, made him simply want to scream while listening inattentively to the thick accent standing before him. It muttered under muddy breath, “Von Stoffen.”

“Von-wha?”

“Von STOW-FENN.”

What in the hell sort of name was that? Stupid krauts. Every last one ‘em would be looking for a handout. He knew it.

Scribbling hurriedly on the form, he barked dismissively, “Well now you’re ‘Stover.’ NEXT!”

Disdain. Yep, he could taste it.

•••

Welcome to “Flash in the Pan”

∞

PS: My thanks to you both, Red and Rochelle, as any excuse to use The Pogues for my song of the day, is a worthy excuse indeed ;)

Move On Up

“The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn’t thought about it.”

~ Sylvia Plath

Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I wonder,

∞

How can someone so singular in mind,

Be so double in their standards?

∞

How can someone so longing to be freed from outside opinion,

Be so ready to compartmentalize all others?

∞

How can someone so desiring of respect from this very same outside,

Be so ready to marginalize all those who would freely give it.

∞

I wonder,

But in knowing that no answer to my puzzlement is forthcoming,

∞

Decide to wonder no more.

•••

Deciding that Rochelle’s image provided a near-perfect excuse to empty my mental closet of some very old and unneeded worry, I jumped full-on with this week’s Friday Fictioneers. I hope you decide to jump on (full or otherwise) as well…

Somewhere.

One walks free. Another runs – either from or to. And a third is locked rigid, never to walk nor run from where they are, right now, forever.

Here are the 100 Friday Fictioneer words that came to mind when the picture was fully taken in; a draft originally slated for my other, “woe is me,” blog that never saw the light of day. Not until now.

I hope you enjoy.

Copyright -Renee Heath

the thing that ran away, the thing that you don’t want anymore, the thing that is gone…

is it ok to still weep at its passing?

the thing that is to be, the thing that you desire so badly, the thing that is *just* ‘round that corner…

is it ok to sob over its delay in coming?

the thing that is, the thing that weighs heavily upon you right now, the thing that relentlessly encases you…

is it ok to lament that it’s neither the former nor the latter, but rather just a painful, albeit hoped-filled, bridge between the two?

•••

A special thanks to my dear sister and friend Renee for this weeks photo prompt. I’d tell you to go and check out her site, but I am certain that all of you already do…