Going Back

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Sitting in a plane seat for hours, inactive and restless, was difficult for Tate. It reminded her of high school and the ongoing drone of the teachers’ voices. The Haagen-Dazs, however, made her think of sunny days with her girlfriends. As each scoop melted in her mouth, thoughts of their antics and conversations swirled in her mind. Sighing, she savoured the last mouthful. She needed to get back together with them. They had been her rock and she had been drifting along aimlessly since her departure. The plane was taking her home and bringing her closer to her people.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2020

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

A Moment of Change

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Time spent in the garden breathing in the scents of damp earth and perfumed flowers were her best moments. Gazing up, she looked past the checkered dome to the clear blue sky. She itched to be out there like the birds she saw flying high. But she would never have the courage to leave on her own.

“I wonder what it would be like out there. The elders claim the dome protects us. But is it necessary?”

The boy had twinkling eyes and an earnest gaze. Her heart leapt out to his. Connected. Maybe he would venture out with her.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2020

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

Point of View

PHOTO PROMPT © Mikhael Sublett

“How could they do this? Tear apart a perfectly solid wall that suited me just fine!”

“It was the best way to settle the argument though. You were not listening to reason.”

“But the mess!”

“I am sure the twins will help clean. They wanted to show you their point albeit dramatically. You know that you can be a bit dogmatic at times.”

“True … This room is so much lighter – and so much better for the work I do.”

“See, no harm. Let’s have a cup of tea then we can call them down to help clean up.”

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2016

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

Unchained

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

She was here. Finally. Macy breathed in the foreign smells and allowed the cacophony of sound embrace her. No longer would she have to hear her mother’s repetitive criticisms hurled at her in bitterness; nor would she have to apologise for every misstep by her younger siblings. Instead she was free to breathe without restraint, to sing with joy, to shout from the rooftops if she wanted. The bonds tying her to her family had been broken with no regret. Her sense of relief had been palpable.

She hailed a taxi and stepped into a life of her own making.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2016

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

The Caretaker

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

The emptied lockers told of those who had left in desperation seeking safety from what was to come. Emptied spaces echoed with the footfall of the caretaker as he meandered the corridors with the knowledge that soon the remaining boxes would be gone. He had no desire to run and was ready to meet his death. He had lived long enough and was tired of the day to day struggle to survive. He would stay here, defend what belonged to others, and buy them time. And in so doing, he may – maybe – absolve himself of a life lived selfishly.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2016

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

Echoing Silence

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Harsh sunlight shone on the desolate playground; the lack of children’s voices echoed in vacant spaces. Life was emptier and less purposeful without the younger generation. Two months ago, children had forcibly been taken en masse. Adults were still unsure of the reason for the forced removal; but rumblings were beginning to stir. Distrust of those in charge fanned hidden embers of discontent.

Children were hidden deep within the bowels of the earth. Their DNA had the key to unlocking the solution to future disaster and their resilience made them the perfect guinea pigs. Echoing screams were unheard above ground.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2019

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

An Anti-Revolution

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

All over the city, lines of people snaked around corners humming with resignation and discontent. Two weeks had passed since the last time these adult men and women waited to receive living assistance from their government. The Industrial Revolution had finally peaked and the machines were doing all of the human work; people had lost a dignified way to earn a comfortable living. Each year the lines got longer; and each year the restlessness grew. The assistance given was paltry causing families to co-exist in small, cramped spaces. The time was near for an anti-industrial revolution. The masses were ready.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2019

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

Trapped!

Looking up, Mira wondered how she was going to get out. Not only was the underground room far from the main house, but there was no ladder in the vicinity. She thought of her daughter and the question this morning:

“Mommy if you had a super power, what would it be?”

She’d answered flippantly. Now, though, she wished she had the strength of Superman and his ability to fly. Screaming with frustration, she paced the musty space. Her only hope was that Mitch remembered her intention to come here when he got home. If not, she’d have an unpleasant experience.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2019

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

Searching For Clues

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Taking his glasses off, Thomas slowly rubbed his eyes. Searching for clues in the book was difficult: this was the text she’d been reading when she disappeared and the subject matter wasn’t enthralling.

“You know she may have left of her own accord?”

“No Nathaniel, I know my wife. She’d never abandon her children – they mean the world to her. There was something about Highgate she figured out – something that put her in danger. I know it.”

Putting on his glasses, he turned to the text again. He could not give up! He sensed Sylvia’s life depended on it.

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2019

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

The Way To Our Heart

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

I say the way to my heart is for the man to cook.

They say if you want to win a man’s affections, cook for him. Daily.

I say if he wants to please me, he should spend the time in the kitchen.

They say women are cooks, men are chefs.

I say I am tired of daily meal planning. Let him have a turn.

Why is it that women are expected to be the ones who shop for groceries, plan the week’s menu, cook the meals. In modern society, women are also working at full-time jobs and bringing in the money. Our second job (raising children, running a home, and cooking) should be shared with the husband/partner.

I say the way to a women’s heart is through her stomach.

I say women are the true chefs, putting together meals on a budget and what is found in the fridge.

I say our reign of the home kitchen is over. We want to pass the sceptre to someone else.

What do you say?

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2019

(This post is linked to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturdaychallenge)