I was sitting in the kitchen when the lovebirds, Marlene and Bob, returned to the WG* we share with two others. From what I hear, Bob is an American student here in Germany. The lovebirds talked, and were about to kiss when Marlene looked at me and shrieked, “A spider!”
Next thing I knew, I was on the floor at her feet. I gulped as she raised her foot to step on me. I squirmed under the sole of her penny loafer as she increased the weight until my body, unable to support the weight, collapsed with a loud crunch.
*WG, Wohngemeinschaft (lit., living community), in Germany, is a living arrangement in which people live together to share expenses.
This is a post for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, photo by Victor and Sarah Potter.
Elena stomped out her cigarette before entering the Swedish ice bar and ordering a cosmopolitan. As she took her drink and began to sit down, she felt a slap to her rear. She knocks him over with a kick to the chest and steps on him. An American guy said to her, “Nice boots! Would you like to dance?”
Elena looks down and says, “Yes”. POW! The American is punched in the face, and a man calls him racial slurs. The American responds in Swedish, and as they begin to fight, security guards remove the Nazi from the premises.
This is a post for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, photo by Roger Bultot.
After her jog in the park, Diana Knight changed her outfit from sneakers and a jogging suit into a blouse, skirt, and loafers. Suddenly, as she grabbed her jacket, she received a message that her boyfriend was being held hostage. On the street, a man made a vulgar comment and grabbed her posterior; she kicked him in the stomach.
Once she arrived at the destination, she knocked out a few guards with tranquilizers. She freed her boyfriend, then BANG! Shots were fired. Diana knocked over the assailant and jumped on his chest. Her boyfriend then kissed her cheek and she hugged him.
This is a post for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields; photo by Sarah Potter.
Businesswoman Regina Jacobsen gave a presentation at Nick Wright’s college. Nick cut hearts out of the bread as he made a PB & J sandwich. Suddenly, he dropped his sandwich and Regina stepped on it while stopping to greet Nick. He said, “Hey, Regina! Your boots look nice on you!”
Regina looked down and raised her foot upon seeing the sandwich, stuck to her boot. Nick removed the sandwich and Regina said, “I am so sorry…especially with the heart!”
He pointed to the heart and smiled. They leaned forward to kiss amid cheers and toasts.
This is a postfor Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, photo by Kelvin M. Knight.
Mike finally reached the top of the mountain, where he cried out, “Is there anyone up there? I am at a loss! My life is wasted! What should I do!?”
He thought of the lost years supporting a leader claiming to for God, the trauma of that controlling environment. Mike wept. Suddenly, in a vision, he saw flowers growing at his feet. A dove flew by, singing. He saw people abandoning weapons. He saw himself in a room among a group of people. Mike asked, “Was that You, God?” A gentle breeze blew.
Mike confidently left the mountain.
This is a post for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields; photo by Danny Bowman.
Istanbul, 24 April 1915:
The door fly open and soldiers enter the home, arresting Dikran Chökürian, one of many Armenian writers.
Eastern Turkey, a few months later:
The Najarian family huddles together at the sound of hooves signaling the approach of Turkish death squads. Marta holds her daughter Mari close as a soldier grabs her and holds her down while she screams, “Hayır!”* repeatedly. The soldier ignores her, insulting her. He then shoots her.
The villagers are deported, and marched through the desert. Mari collapses from fatigue and dehydration. A soldier shoots her.
A Turkish family shelters a survivor.
*Hayır is Turkish for “No”.
This Friday Fictioneers story is dedicated to the 1.5 Armenians killed in the Armenian Genocide during WWI. Hitler later asked, “After all, who today speaks of the annihilation of Armenia?” The answer is many do. #NeverForget. To this day the Turkish government denies the genocide. The event started with the deportation of around 250 Armenian intellectuals on April 24, 1915, of which writer Dikran Chökürian was but one.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields has arranged for this Friday Fictioneers, and Liz Young provided the photo.
Fahrünnisa, being short on time slipped on a pair of low-heeled dress shoes instead of the oxfords, and stomped a spider that showed up. “That’s bad karma”, Max said.
“Get in the car”, she replied, pushing the unlock button. She started the car and floored the accelerator. Once at the conference, a man snatched her purse and ran off. The thief gave the purse to a vendor. When the vendor refused to hand it over, Fahrünnisa stepped on the tomatoes. She and Max then fell over when they were injected with syringes. “Don’t oppose Erdoğan”, a voice said.
This is a post for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, photo by Magaly Guerrero.