Friday Fictioneers – Toxic

Photo courtesy of Marie Gail Stratford

Photo courtesy of Marie Gail Stratford

This is where I stand.

Dry. Empty. Broken.

But there was a time when you were with me.

I can still remember when I gave you my all:

The warmth of my embrace

The energy of my laughter

The constant thrill from looming danger

But you left, and I know why.

I can still remember when I took so much from you:

The lightness of your spirit,

The depth of your smile,

The sense of security for your being

But there was a time when you weren’t with me.

Dry. Empty. Broken.

This is where I’ve always stood.


For more creative stories inspired by the photo above, click here.

Friday Fictioneers – Stuck


Photo courtesy of Sandra Crook

Sometimes, self-awareness is also self-punishing.

To know that we’re here, not moving

To know that you’re bound to one direction, and me to another

To know what you want and what you need

To know what I need and what I want

To know that I cannot consistently provide either of those

To know that you cannot consistently provide either of those

To know what you deserve

To know what I deserve

To know that we share such strong passions and emotions

And to know that we cannot be together

Sometimes, the most potent and inescapable way to punish oneself is to just be aware.


To read more stories based on the image, please check here.

Friday Fictioneers – Dialogue


Photo by Renee Heath


Suddenly, the lights went out. Both were quite thankful it happened. Sometimes honesty travels better through the dark.


One thinks:

We want a new beginning. But is there such a thing?

Because there’s no going back from molten passion and solidified pain.

Maybe I’ll just let the flame flicker.


The other thinks:

We yearn for a brighter glow. But is it worth it?

For when one builds a flame, somebody may get burned.

Maybe I should just keep my distance.


They say it takes around 10 minutes before the eyes completely adjust to the dark. Will it be enough for them to see each other?


For more stories based on this prompt, please check here.

Friday Fictioneers – Tuner


Photo by Björn Rudberg

It’s cold here, I thought.
So after every song, I have to adjust my strings.
The guitar tends to go out of tune due to the temperature.

She said she doesn’t feel anything anymore.
So every time we saw each other, I tried something different.
Maybe I’d hit the mark and be in tune with her disposition

Strings get fragile too.
The loosening and stretching wear them down.
And with one slight turn, I broke a string.

I get fragile too.
The stretches I did wore me down.
And with that final empty look, I broke down.

I’m done here. I don’t want to play anymore.



For more flash fictions based on this image, check here.




Friday Fictioneers – Rhythm


Image courtesy of Douglas M. MacIlroy

Blaring alarm when the clock strikes 7

Sweeping bristles against the teeth

Pattering water in the shower

Whispering grumble of the car engine

Off-sync drumming of footsteps on the streets

Splattering coffee against the paper cup

Mocking ding of the elevator

Marching keys of the keyboard

Brooming of the printer head

Scraping of the fork against the Chinese take out box

Marching keys of the keyboard

Brooming of the printer head

Freeing ding of the elevator

Whispering sighs of the car engine.

Music of the tiny running footsteps…

Creaking of the front door door…

Heavenly giggles of children…






An ode to the ideal tune and rhythm of life.

For more entries on this prompt, check here.

Friday Fictioneers – Linger


Image courtesy of Janet M. Webb

You don’t know this.

But I frequent that restaurant by your place. I sit and drink and I treat myself with the sight of your beauty – a reminder of how generous life can be. Just like a captivating portrait, I am affected by your image: full of history; full of passion.

You don’t know this.

But I frequent that restaurant by your place. I sit and drink and I torture myself with the sight of your beauty – a reminder of a forsaken past. Just like a captivating portrait that I can only admire from a distance: I cannot hold; I cannot own.

You don’t know this.

You don’t have to.


Okay, first things first. I was too preoccupied with a bunch of things that I skipped several prompts in Friday Fictioneers. I deeply apologize. Although I still checked  the prompts along with some of the stories written about it. Needless to say, the ideas in my brain were cursing me for keeping them imprisoned. Maybe I will backtrack and set them free in my future posts.

Anyway, I am back and here’s my contribution. Please feel free to share your comments and insights.

Also, more amazing entries inspired by the photo prompt may be found by clicking this link.



I went a little over 100 words. Again, my apologies. But I felt it wouldn’t work if I trim it further.

Friday Fictioneers – Outsider’s Eulogy


Dear you,

I have always loved you – despite your penchant for the normal.

But that’s not me. Not to say that one is better than the other; it just means we’re different. I remember taking you to that grungy, vandalized street corner. You asked me why. I said there’s beauty and peace in chaos and contempt.

You accepted me; you loved me.

But the polarity between the assuring black and white against the vast gray expanse became overwhelming.

So you said goodbye. And I understand.

There are no heroes and villains; we’re just different.

I’m sorry and thank you,



I skipped last week’s Friday Fictioneers because

1. I’ve been too busy and more importantly,

2. A friend challenged me to write something happy, which I find very challenging.

But I’ll get back to that image.

This week, I decided to experiment on the structure once again. I hope you will indulge. Some might even debate if this is a short story or not. But isn’t it  why it’s called experimental? It goes against the canon. Nevertheless, I hope you’ll be affected by it.

For more amazing stories on this week’s prompt, please visit this link.

Friday Fictioneers – Fresh Start


Photo by Sean Fallon


He says yes to Leo. He doesn’t know what they’ll do for the quick bucks. But he’s desperately tired of a city that is unforgiving to illiterates.


He’s in the car with Leo, waiting for something. Or someone.


They’re driving along a dark, deserted highway. He gets the cash and a new phone. Leo’s girl has fallen asleep at the backseat.


He vomits.


He wakes up and smiles. Throwing up was enough to forget. He goes out and searches for Leo; he’s in for the long haul.


News breaks that a woman’s leg has been found on the highway.


Click this link to view other stories based/inspired on this photo.


Friday Fictioneers – Untouchable


Before they went out, an agreement was proposed: to not let the passion drown logic.

They both agreed.

So they walked along the empty, quiet alleys of his kingdom; their presence and words making the connection alive. He wore a cloak, enjoying the liberty of anonymity. She carried a joyous glow, not believing it’s really him she was with. They walked in parallel lines, mocking the absence of what they wanted. The gravity grew stronger; the affection became irrepressible.

He’s been longing to feel again. So the king broke the rule; he held her hand.

And she turned into gold.