Prior To This

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

Lulled out of hiding, cough, convalescence, by my amigo Y’s photograph, I wrote three entries for this week’s prompt. Two shall remain buried in that bedroom-sized bottom drawer, the third I tentatively lay before you.  I hope you like it, and say so, and why. If you don’t like it, I hope you can tell me and say why, too. I think this story is the best of the three, for whatever that’s worth. I felt the other two were too flippant and silly rather than funny – which is what I was aiming for.

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

Happy reading and commenting!

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PRIOR TO THIS

by

Kelvin M. Knight

It started at the coffee table, and quickly spread throughout the house. The books, shoes and toys hiding the stairs were worst. Someone was going to trip and fall. Probably her. Hopefully her. Snatching a weight loss magazine off the coffee table, she saw herself on every page. Hurling that magazine away, she grabbed several cigarettes, then spat them all out. That bottle of bourbon! She stumbled to the sink. Here she swayed, that bottle poised above the plughole. Here tears brightened her eyes. Here she took the mightiest swig. Today. Tomorrow. Were gone. This life was here to stay.

(100 words)

This Mess

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

My muse went on a right journey with this one. This picture, the neatness and tidiness in this garden, screamed OCD (Sorry , Sandra). And when I took this thought, this compulsive character, from the garden to inside the house, the following story appeared.

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

Happy reading and commenting!

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THIS MESS

by

Kelvin M. Knight

She spent the morning in the kitchen, positioning each tin, jar, can and bottle so every label was upright and facing forwards. The tubes of tomato puree were difficult so she dropped them. Minutes later, she was realigning all the foodstuffs again. And again.

The tubes of tomato puree mocked her. ‘Why?’ She wanted to kick them. ‘Why!’ She stamped on them. Puree squirted, made a mess on the cupboard doors. Like blood. Hers. After. He. He.

He had reeked of beer. Laughing, he’d forced himself into… Again and again. Him… Her. Husband.

Convulsing, she slid silently to the floor.

(100 words)

WINGS in the WATER

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier

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Dear Readers

This is my first public attempt at FridayFictioneers style story for a wee while – although  I have been looking, reading, writing and dropping the odd comment on others’ stories ( those of you whose style I have liked enough to follow your blogs). I hope I am up to the task of commenting on as many of your stories as supportively and encouragingly as I used to; however, do bear in mind my energy reserves are somewhat limited after a period of hospitalisation recently.

Take care of yourselves.

Shalom

Kelvin

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WINGS in the WATER

by

Kelvin M. Knight

A lifetime on these canals and he knew everyone – even these tourists visiting Venice for the first time. That excitement in their voices, this light in their eyes –  belonged here in the splendour of these waterways.

His waterways, whose crystal surface he’d danced and sung over until his gondola ran dry.

Leaning back, he waved an oar that sank long ago. When these tourists waved back, his heart sang again, whereupon he saw wings in the water. Such majesty rippling, beating beautifully, and he knew: these veins of Venice would keep his spirit afloat long after this dance was completed.

(100 words)

This Place Called Now

Here we are again. Another FridayFictioneers photo prompt writing challenge. this time provided by Courtney Wright (the photographer prefers to remain anonymous).  Thanks to Rochelle for hosting us as always, and for all those who take part – sharing their stories, their likes, and their invaluable thoughts.

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THIS PLACE CALLED NOW

by

Kelvin M. Knight

All the new leaves he’d turned over lay curled at his feet. Poking at them with his toes, James wondered what he was doing wrong; no matter how hard he tried, she would not be with him.

Raking these leaves of past failures into piles, he came to the conclusion the common denominator was himself; however, he was being the best version of himself right now.

Right now and always.

Holding another new leaf to the sky, James turned it over and over until he saw her beaming at him while he sank to his knees and offered his love.

(100 words)

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To read other contributors’ stories click on the blue frog below. Have fun reading, commenting, writing, then reading and commenting some more – especially those who don’t appear to read, or indeed, comment on your stories.

Model Me

Here we are again. Another FridayFictioneers photo prompt writing challenge. this time supplied by Karen Rawson – she of What Pegman Saw fame. Thanks, Karen, and thank you Rochelle for hosting us as always.

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MODEL ME

by

Kelvin M. Knight

She said draw. That didn’t work. She said paint. Oily blobs congealed. She said write poetry. Words bubbled then burst. She suggested model-making. I grinned. Building things was fun.

I patted clay for the hill until it was the perfect size for those seventy-seven uneven steps. I smoked several cigarettes for the bonfire ash, planted twigs for those trees.

Those trees swaying my memory as I built that log cabin again. Her face grinning as she entered, then screaming as she fell. Wood and bone chopped equally well.

Laughing, I created a model village to celebrate them all.

(100 words)

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To read other contributors’ stories click on the blue frog below. Have fun reading, commenting, writing, then reading and commenting some more – especially those who don’t appear to read, or indeed, comment on your stories.

The Mathematics of Love

Here we are again. Another Wednesday. Another FridayFictioneers photo prompt writing challenge. this time supplied by the effervescent Dale Rogerson. Thanks, Dale, and thank you Rochelle for hosting us yet again.

To read other contributors’ stories click on the blue frog below. Have fun!

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THE MATHEMATICS OF LOVE

by

Kelvin M. Knight

She doodled circles on her napkin. He scribbled formulae on his. Round and round his mathematical symbols roamed. Her favourite shape was a circle. Now was not a good time to show him this, though.

‘Good or bad,’ he exclaimed, trying to stir the grand circles dangling from the ceiling with his forefingers. ‘Why didn’t I see this before?’

His outburst caused those standing nearby at their tables to gawp. She smiled politely at them.

When his napkin was full, she offered him hers. His eyebrows shrieked. Sipping his aperitif, she nodded affectionately. His wow face lit up her heart.

(100 words)

Party Time

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Dear Friday Fictioneers (and anyone else reading this)

The following flash fiction story was written in response to Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers photo prompt by Fatima, posted this week (28/03/18 for Friday 30/03/18).

My humblest apologies for posting this today, two days late – I wasn’t sure I would be able to find the time but I am glad I have.

I hope you enjoy reading my little story as much as I have writing it this cold and wet and windy yet hopeful Bank Holiday Monday morning.

To read other FridayFictioneer stories based on the same photo prompt, or to join in with the fun, click the la’al Blue Frog below, remembering writing is reading, and commenting on what you think went well and not so well in others’ stories informs your storytelling as well as helping other writers – wheresoever they may be on their writerly journey.

Happy Easter everybody!

Kelvin

get the InLinkz code

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PARTY TIME (Revision B)

by

Kelvin M. Knight

‘I need a party.’ Her jaw ached at these words.

His fuzzy head remained motionless.

‘You… disagree?’ Words were stones in her mouth.

He passed her a pen. Grimacing, she wrote crookedly: I want the finest bubbly, the sweetest strawberries, the most clotted cream.

Whistling her tune, he steered her outside. The fresh air made her gurgling song stop. The trees’ leaves weeped into something white. He held out her hand. Feeling the empty garden furniture, she observed whispers of her youth.

Such energy. Such gaiety.

Sobbing, she collapsed into his arms.

Now his head moved. ‘I love you, Mother.’

(100 words)

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PARTY TIME (Revision A)

by

Kelvin M. Knight

‘I need a party.’ Her jaw ached at these words.

The fuzzy head of her manservant remained motionless.

‘You… disagree?’ Words were stones in her mouth.

He passed her a pen. Grimacing, she wrote crookedly: I want the finest bubbly, the sweetest strawberries, the most clotted cream, and all my friends from every corner of this great continent.

Whistling her tune, he steered her outside. Her singing was gurgling. Her smile was thinner than her limbs. Yet, child-like sparkles returned when she saw the empty garden furniture.

Observing whispers of her youth, she sobbed.

Now his fuzzy head moved.

(100 words)