she knew she had only moments. her escape would be noticed soon and the dogs would be on her trail. her bag had been packed and hidden for days but her chance had finally come and the door was unguarded. she snuck past the gate somehow not waking the sleeping guard dog from his slumber. she could…
Category: friday fictioneers
friday fictioneers
if only we had listened
by Tara Jo •
We tried to listen, but the excitement was just too much, we grabbed our towels and ran. We loved those unpredictable waves, telling each other , “go farther” to see who would be knocked down first. We love the water, at home the fast rushing river or creek, or the calm smooth lake, tasting nice…
friday fictioneers
It seemed like a good idea at the time…
by Tara Jo •
Mom and Granny were busy with something and it was HOT outside. There was no pool to play in, the slip and slide had offered it last slide ages ago, and we just wanted to cool off a little. We found something that our young brains thought would work just fine. Put it on a…
friday fictioneers
The outline of a memory
by Tara Jo •
It had to be nearby; she remembered walking this path to picnic in the shade with her grandparents. Now the area seemed so different yet so much the same it was hard to remember, should she have turned into the woods sooner, she remembered there was a tiny arbor at the end. Suddenly, she felt…
family, friday fictioneers
The Hunt
by Tara Jo •
As they speak in hushed voices, the telltale sound of the dogs gets louder. She shares her thoughts, he listens and replies. They can tell by the sounds of the baying that the dogs are closing in on their prey. Howling voices getting louder, shoulders tense, eyes begin to dart to the side of the…
friday fictioneers, photography
hope
by Tara Jo •
Friday Fictioneer She saw the sign and decided to apply. Thinking as she filled in the blanks… no experience, no references, no chance. She waited for the call knowing what the answer would be but tried to keep her spirits up for their sake at least. Another day with no call, not a surprise, they…
friday fictioneers, memories
a memory of a fence, post
by Tara Jo •
I remember this as a gate to be opened and closed if you wanted to go past our barn. More often than not it was just climbed over, unless we were hauling trash to the dump. Funny now that taking the trash out means rolling the bins to the street, it is a hated chore.…