Posted in friday fictioneers

BEATS COFFEE

PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr


BEATS COFFEE

© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019

Weather was fun.

This midlife revelation rocked Andrew. For too long he’d accepted the blueness of his position: his perfectionism; his workaholic nature; his awkwardness in social situations; his loneliness.

This morning there were no storm clouds. Today the sun was glorious and Andrew’s lawn glistened. Grinning, he rushed outside in his boxers and charged downstairs to his lawn where he threw himself down. The wetness on his back was cold but exhilarating. Trembling, he stretched out his arms and legs, then waved them about. Tears of joy dripped down his cheeks as he made the biggest dew angel ever.

(100 words)


Thanks, as ever, to Rochelle for hosting this weekly photo driven writing prompt. Other writers’ imaginative take on this picture can be found by clicking the la’al blue froggy below.

Enjoy!

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Posted in friday fictioneers

BACK IN TIME

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz


BACK IN TIME

by

Kelvin M. Knight

The engine was gone yet the bonnet was still warm. PI Kowalski moved his hands away. Despite the warmth he saw nothing. Cars were tricky, yet it wasn’t that. He touched the trees nearby. Zilch. This wasn’t right. He’d misplaced his abilities before but that had always followed human intimacy. This was something else. Stepping into the engine cavity, he sat crosslegged, pressed his palms together, and grimaced. Emotions like wisps of smoke swirled around him. Someone laughed. The bonnet clanged shut. An engine roared. He felt his senses yanked backwards then that laughter again.

‘Got you, you psychic moron!’

(100 words)


This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt. To read other Friday Fictioneer’s stories inspired by Ted Strutz’s photo, please click the Blue Froggy below.

Posted in friday fictioneers

OILING THE WIND

PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen


He lubricated this cog and that, knowing he’d performed these actions countless times, but unsure why. Duty, maybe, dictating he keep these cogs turning smoothly?

Listening to the whirring sounds become a symphony, he hobbled to the next shaft, then the next. With every step he yearned to remember, yet this shadow of forgetfulness would not brighten.

Slowly this machine opened translucent weathervanes as if opening its arms in a loving embrace. That thrumming symphony crescendoed, whereupon this machine gave birth to a tornado, one whose beauty overfilled his mind with silent screams.

Collapsing to his knees, Kogin sobbed forlornly.

(100 words)


This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt. To read other Friday Fictioneer’s stories inspired by Nick Allen’s photo, please click the Blue Froggy below.

Posted in friday fictioneers

SYMPOSIUMS

The following story was written in response to Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers photo prompt. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior


 

SYMPOSIUMS

by

Kelvin M. Knight

Every time Roland went to one of these events he drank too much coffee. To keep awake, he supposed. It never worked. He always dozed off after a lunch he wouldn’t usually eat.

Why? Because it was free? Because he was bored?

The after lunch speaker asked the selfsame questions. When no one answered, he clanged a gong, banged a drum, then honked an airhorn, thrice.

‘Christianity isn’t about sleeping or skulking in the shadows,’ proclaimed this overzealous speaker. ‘Go make some noise!’

Roland adjusted his seat position. An almighty parp escaped his bloated belly. ‘Excuse me. Too many beans.’

(100 words)


If you want to read other FridayFictioneers’ stories also based on this prompt, please click the blue frog button below.

Happy reading and don’t forget – an insightful and/or appreciative comment or two or three or four makes every (even if they don’t like admitting it) writers’ day!

Posted in friday fictioneers

THESE BELLS

The following story was written in response to Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers photo prompt. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll


THESE BELLS

by

Kelvin M. Knight

He purchased this ornate clock because it reminded him of church. The look and feel of this wood was identical to the pews, whose ornate carvings reached out to the heavens. Those heavens where bells clanged in practice for Sunday morning, whereupon heaven would ripple across this village.

He swayed in eager anticipation. Such harmonies. Such humility. From these bell ringers and the congregation. Humbleness was the bedrock of Christianity here – starting with those Benedictine monks and finishing Lord knows where.

The time, the place, didn’t matter, nothing did, as long as these bells kept chiming in his soul.

(99 words)


If you want to read other FridayFictioneers’ stories also based on this prompt, please click the blue frog button below.

Happy reading and commenting!

Posted in friday fictioneers

THOSE BELLS

The following story was written in response to Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers photo prompt. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll


THOSE BELLS

by

Kelvin M. Knight

This clock reminded him of that church. The wood was identical to those pews. The carvings were the flourishes on that stonework. And those bells, clanging and clonking whenever, wherever, until Sunday arrived whereupon the bell tower became possessed.

The thought of it made him grind his teeth. The worst part was not the unsettling noise, though, it was the lack of consideration for others. Superiority was typical of that church. So much for humbleness and humility being the flagstones of Christianity.

Seeing that bell rope coiling, snaking, he closed his eyes and concentrated on this gentle hourly tinging.

(99 words)


If you want to read other FridayFictioneers’ stories also based on this prompt, please click the blue frog button below.

Happy reading and commenting!

Posted in friday fictioneers

EXPLORERS

The following story was written in response to Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers photo prompt. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner


EXPLORERS

by

Kelvin M. Knight

She knew the way. Through this darkness that once was light. This coldness that would burn her. This emptiness which filled her.

Eventually, that misshapen orb of whiteness, hanging, floating. Visceral beauty personified.

Something stirred inside her. That moon reached out. She plummeted, drifted, then rose and fell. Forgotten breaths deep inside her.

Her mind opened. Three flopped out. A trio of white dots lost to this blackness. Hers. Theirs. Streaks of bouncing greyness. They crackled. They hissed. This language they spoke she forgot lifetimes ago.

Their excitement bubbled. Their wonder expanded. These auras engulfed her as she had them.

(100 words)


If you want to read other FridayFictioneers’ stories also based on this prompt, please click the blue frog button below.

Happy reading and commenting!