Friday Fictioneers: Not Home Anymore

It is time once again for FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. That is the challenge where about 100 authors use 100 words to tell 100 stories about 1 picture.

This is our picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Here is my story:

Not Home Anymore

by JE Lillie

Johan strode into the white-marbled hall.

A woman in an organza gown lifted her nose in the air. She fanned herself twice and drew the nosegay at her wrist to her face with a disdainful gaze.

Johan thought back to the little farm he had worked with his own hands these last years. The mountain streams he had fished. Lisse, the faithful, common wife he had shared his bed with.

“Johan my son! You have returned!” King Ecthbert called. The old man gathered Johan into his meaty arms as courtiers gasped in dismay.

The palace was not home anymore.



Find the other stories realted to this picture by clicking the underlined link above.

Friday Fictioneers: Behind These Gates

It is time once again for FRIDAY FICTIONEERS ,  the challenge where 100 authors gather to share 100 word stories all from 1 photo prompt. To see all the stories click the underlined link and follow the blue frog. Here is our prompt and my 100 word story.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Photo Prompt by J Hardy Carrol

Behind These Gates

by JE Lillie

I stand on the porch just beyond their reach.

They can sense me. I can sense them.

Another step closer and they could mindswipe me.

Father has trembled the gates. They know one touch would shake them to pieces.

Daddy’s power is highly coveted. So is mine.

Since the Mutant Wars everyone can read minds. Many can mindswipe. A few like Dad have the power to tremble,turning inanimate objects into sonic killing weapons. One in a hundred million can necrotame.

I go back inside. Behind these gates I am safe from becoming their greatest weapon.

Friday Fictioneers 12-30-16: Serenade

It has been a while since I had an opportunity to just sit down and write extra posts. This week my goal is to participate in all the challenges I once took part in weekly. I am having just so much fun!

It is time to take up Rochelle’s weekly photo fiction prompt. If you would like to join in just click on the photo below and you will be whisked over to Rochelle’s place and there you can discover the rules of play.

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma


By JE Lillie

She had little to show for the last two years, just what was in her duffel. He owned the rest. When he told her about the new woman it had taken her only fifteen minutes to clear out.

Standing on the lift platform she realized it had all been a dream. Reality couldn’t be rolled up in under a half hour. She promised herself it would never happen again.

The street player arrived then and opened up his guitar case. As he began to play she smiled. He smiled back, and the dream began again.

Coming Soon…Pork Chops

My debut novel with Author Tracy Lee Karner will be coming out this fall!

Pork Chops With the Sentinels Of Azatan…is a coming-of-age story about a misfit boy named Honey, a comic-book super-hero obsessed dad who abandons him, and a new-age flighty mother who is often oblivious to his needs. It combines humor and tragedy under the themes of forgiveness and grace, and is set in Massachusetts in the 1970’s.

For those of you who might think that title is a bit quirky, just remember how much I like quirky things!

It is going to be a fun read so jump on board by joining my e-mail list…

At the moment my MailChimp pop-up is not working properly so just leave me a comment down below and I will send my e-mail your way so you can send me yours.



Friday Fictioneers: Flicker

It is time once again for Friday Fictioneers. This is the challenge where about 100 authors share 100 stories in 100 words all concerning 1 picture chosen by our hostess Rochelle.

Please click the underlined link above to find all the stories written  from this picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman

PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman

I am writing this story off of my first reaction to the picture. At first I saw the swatches of fabric to the right of the lights as fresh dipped candles hanging and drying.


by JE Lillie

We walked hand in hand down to the boat house. I could see the candles flickering in the windows.

I reminisced about my father lighting candles in a blackout, telling ghost stories until midnight.

Grampa’s lantern with it’s little candle shone into the dark joy of many a family camping trip.

My father had proposed to my mother by candle light.

As I opened the door to the boathouse I thought how perfect it all was.

Then she said, “It’s so dark in here. Can’t we turn on the lights?”

I let go of the little black box in my pocket, “Sure.”

The lights clicked on.



Friday Fictioneers 4-22-16: The Snare

It is time once again for Friday Fictioneers. This is the challenge where about 100 authors share 100 stories in 100 words all concerning 1 picture chosen by our hostess Rochelle.

Please click the underlined link above to find all the stories written  from this picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Madison Woods

Photo by Madison Woods

The Snare

By JE Lillie

I tried to warn him.

But hearing succumbs to the louder beating of the heart.

I saw her thorns from a long way off.

All he saw was curves.

I caught the essence of bitterness that is sure and certain poison for men.

All he smelled was her breath on his neck.

She took my hand and there was a betrayal in the gentle grip.

“Her hands are smooth as silk.” He said bedazzled.

My tongue tingled with the flavor of his destruction  that day.

He tasted her lips as the parson said “You may kiss your bride.”

I am not entirely sure why but as soon as I saw the picture my mind flashed to this passage in the Old Testament.

“This is the way of an adulterous woman:
    She eats and wipes her mouth
    and says, ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

21 “Under three things the earth trembles,
    under four it cannot bear up:
22 a servant who becomes king,
    a godless fool who gets plenty to eat,
23 a contemptible woman who gets married,
    and a servant who displaces her mistress. Proverbs 30:20-23


Purposeful Practitioner: The Careless Prince!

I am joining in on a new challenge today hosted by Roger Shipp. His blog can be found HERE ALONG WITH THE STORIES OF HIS OTHER CONTRIBUTORS.

The photo prompt for this week is…


And our opening line is, “You lookin’ at me?”

The Careless Prince

By JE Lillie

“You lookin’ at me?” The mirror said in its best Brooklyn accent.

” Hey you wit da horns stop ya starin’.”

If it had spoken in an English accent, even French, I probably would have tumbled to the fact that I was in the house of Brunhilde. But everyone knows magic mirrors don’t come from New York and well witches are supposed to be all bumpy and scaly not super- modelesque.

Then again Charmings are not supposed to be plumbers. But after the glamour wars the royal family fell on hard times and hiding out as day labor seemed to be the thing to do.

Cindy had called us not three weeks ago and told us that the witch was hunting heads again, but I didn’t take it seriously. I should have listened. I wasn’t under the sink five minutes before Brunny was waving that wand of hers, turning me into a deer.

Cindy wasn’t kidding. Brunhilde was hunting heads. She cut mine off and stuck it to the wall. Now I can only stare into my reflection and listen to the mirror practice his shtick for the next prince who walks through the door.

Friday Fictioneers: Behind the Bamboo Curtain

Here is another posting for Rochelle’s Challenge, FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. This challenge involves writing a 100 word story from a photo prompt provided by Rochelle. You can click the underlined link to read Rochelle’s story and those of her contributors.

The photo prompt  and my story are below:

PHOTO PROMPT - © ceayr

Photo by: ceayr

Behind the Bamboo Curtain

by JE Lillie

My memory is long. As far back as I can remember it has always been me vs. him. Nephew vs. uncle. Reynard vs. Isengrim.

We have amassed and lost fortunes to each other. Throughout history The fox has  outwitted the wolf. The wolf has overpowered the fox. He is stronger. I am smarter.

  I think though, I have finally lost. He has trapped me behind this bamboo curtain. The magic woven in keeps me in human form. To weak to transform I cannot heal from the knife he has thrust in my back. Reynard, the fox, at last is dying.

 For more on Reynard the fox…


Friday Fictioneers: Looking Into the Sun

It is time once again for Friday Fictioneers. That’s the place where 100 authors share 100 words to tell 100 stories from 1 photograph shared by Rochelle our hostess.

Take a peek at all the stories Rochelle’s contributors have shared from the photo below by clicking the underlined link above.

Here is my story:

Copyright Jean L. Hays

Copyright: Jean L. Hays

Looking Into the Sun

by JE Lillie

I smiled. The movement was as unfamiliar to me, as slow dancing in the rain. Now I had done both of those things.

I ran nervous fingers through my sopping hair and looked at her, the inspiration for smiling and dancing. I sipped my coffee and wondered how it had grown to this.

“You’re quiet.” She said.

She twisted water out of her own curly locks into a hand towel she had hidden in her purse.

It made me question, did she dance in the rain often?

She smiled at me and I no longer cared. It was like looking into the sun.



Friday Fictioneers:Reflection

Friday Fictioneers time folks! The time of the week when 100+ authors share 100- words with the world. We base our stories on a photo prompt given by our A number one hostess Rochelle. Check out all the stories by following the little blue frog at THIS SITE.

Here is the prompt and my story is below that.

Kitchen Window

photo by: © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


by JE Lillie

The sun is setting again. She is at the sink doing dishes. I am at the table in my usual spot drinking coffee after dinner.

We are stuck, she and I, in this maddening loop ever since the day I sent him away. We eat dinner in silence. She does the dishes. I drink my coffee. She looks out the window. I catch the longing in her eyes turned outward. Then I see her glaring back at me in the window’s reflection. It echoes my own thoughts, suggests what we both think. I should have gone.