Posts Tagged ‘pure meanness’

Yep! It’s Wednesday-Friday. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for posting the picture prompt taken by Fatima Fakier Deria. And now, my 100-word story.

Susan’s dress is perfect, tiny blue flowers and cream-colored lace. New white stockings and black satin shoes.
Last night Mama pin-curled her hair. Now it hangs in bouncy blonde ringlets around her small, freckled face.
Anticipation lights her from within.
Nine-years-old today!

An hour passes. No one comes. Two hours. A breeze rises. She puts on a sweater that doesn’t compliment her dress.
Raindrops leak from the sky one by one until mud splatters her stockings and shoes.
Mama calls. Susan doesn’t go in.

Finally, a rock tumbles under the fence.
The attached note reads, “You knew no one would come.”

Today is Wednesday-Friday! Thanks, Rochelle, for posting this picture of a boxing gym. We at Friday Fictioneers only know that because there are about a half-dozen signs telling us so. Thanks, J. Hardy Carroll for providing the picture. Now, for my 100-word story. Thanks to all who read and comment on my submissions.

Photo by J Hardy Carroll

The background music to Tessa’s life was filled with squealing tires, shouting men and boxing gloves thump, thump, thumping skin.
The characters who peopled her world were drunk, bruised and mean.
Helmets, ropes, mats, and bags provided the never-changing scene work.
Only when it snowed did she feel safe for the men couldn’t drive the unplowed streets nor navigate the sidewalks.
They couldn’t come upstairs and tease her mother nor play Tessa’s violin so violently the strings snapped.
And she felt secure in the knowledge that no one would grab her wheelchair and shove her across the room.


June watched her boys tumble across the yard like puppies. Not one of them was right in the head – she knew it for a fact. Nasty old Mable didn’t need to tell her. No she did not. Clem: Ten – can’t count to one. Joe-Bob: Nine – forgets his own name. Stew: Eight – if a tree toppled, he’d just let it fall and squash him dead. It’s their daddy’s fault. Knocked each one in the head when they were little babies. But Daddy’s gone. June saw to that. Shot him. Threw him in the sea. Now she’s left with a black-haired chain of fools. She loves each link.