Friday Fictioneers: Finally Found

Rochelle hosts Friday Fictioneers here:

Tony pulled up to the curb slowly, not wanting to risk having a small child run in front of the car. When you stopped at these roadside tag sales you never knew what you would find and if they had a big section of used toys you would usually find a few kiddos running wild. He was looking for a shelf for the kitchen. Nothing too big, nothing too wide or fancy, just something to hold the spices and maybe a few dressings.

Getting out of the car, Tony started scanning the sale to see where he might find this kitchen shelf when he saw it. He stopped, almost feeling like he might pass out, as if in a dream state. Sitting on an old whicker chair sat the old violin, his old violin, that his granny had given him when he graduated college. He hadn’t necessarily loved the ornate design but granny had had it painted special for him and for that he loved it. When he had moved into his new place he had left a few boxes at his parents house, figuring he would get them at some point that he had the room. He didn’t know that they would have a clean-out day and donate all of the “stuff” in the garage. When he realized what he had left in that “stuff” he was heartbroken.

Tony walked over to the violin, almost as if to not catch anyone’s attention, feeling like if he caught someone’s attention they would want the violin and snatch it away first. Picking up the beautiful instrument he could feel the tears welling behind his eyes and his throat starting to get tight as he held back his emotions.

The guy running the tag sale walked over. “Hey, what do you think of that old thing? My mom had picked it up at some thrift shop thinking I would love it but its a little too girlie for me. Do you play?”

“Um, well, sort of,” Tony stammered, now that he knew the guy thought it to be too girlie he didn’t want to admit it was his. “My niece is starting to play and her birthday is coming up. I’m her Godfather too so I wanted to give her something really special.”

“Well, I was asking $25 but if you really want it you can have it for $20. It would be nice to know someone loves it. I won’t play it,” the guy said laughing.

Tony took his wallet out of his pocket and took out a twenty-dollar bill. He handed it to the tag sale guy and nonchalantly walked away, not wanting to show this guy how ecstatic he really was. Getting into the car he laid the violin on the front seat next to him and smiled. “Thank you, Granny, I love it!”


This story is pure fiction but I wrote it after remembering a story my dad told me a long time ago. Apparently, he, Tony, had a beautiful violin, something expensive and a brand that most violin enthusiasts would know. He loved it and cared for it, as he learned to master playing it. One day he took it to a music shop to get tuned and cleaned properly. He picked it up and put it near the music stand in his living room. He didn’t play it again for quite a while, not really recalling why. He did remember that when he opened the case the next time it was NOT his beautiful instrument. The shop had switched it out with a typical, store-bought brand that was sort of cheap, maybe the kind for beginners who don’t want to put a ton of money into the playing until they were sure they liked it. He had been heartbroken and he never played again. It still breaks my heart to think of that.

Friday Fictioneers: Those Americans Again!

Rochelle is the host of Friday Fictioneers where we are asked to write a complete story in less than 100 words:

Those Americans! They don’t give a hoot about property, they only want to see what they want! 

For God’s sake, Fern, it isn’t that big of a deal. They didn’t park on anyone’s grass!

Not this time. But if someone would say something then maybe it wouldn’t be a problem. 

What are you going to do, really? Have a giant sign at the airport and border entries telling people to be respectful of our property? 

Well, yes, that would be a start!

Fern, no one is going to listen when they can get a clear image of that old castle. 

©2022 CBialczak Fiction

Friday Fictioneers!

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Find the prompt here to join in:


A shadow lurked in the hidden recess of the abandoned doorway. No one would see him here, nor would they think they had to look for anything. He had the city glued to his every movement, his every activity but they hadn’t been able to find any clues as to who this man was who was taking innocent women from their homes and leaving them for dead in the ruins.
What he didn’t foresee was what would become of his next victim. She was stronger than most and she would survive his torture, so that she could bring him in. 

©2022 CBialczak Fiction

Friday Fictioneers

To join in visit Rochelle’s site:

This weeks photo:

Up upon a wooded hill
inside a wooden shack
stone makes up the front walls
and mud holds up the back

Its here that mother nature
can rest her head in Spring
working hard all winter
So we hear robins sing

And in this house so little
a being waits inside
letting Mother Nature be
alone, and for he’ll hide

And when it’s time to come out
the weather’s turned up warm
He cleans up all the old debris
and any from the storms

The yard never gets pretty
it stays plain like his home
but happy is this little one
The little garden gnome.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

Friday Fictioneers

Rochelle host Friday Fictioneers:


Mikey, move to the left a little. No, step back a tiny bit. Yes, stay there! Okay, now put your hands up in front of you…Awesome, lean in a little, like you are actually holding it up.

Dad, this is the same picture that every tourist takes here.

No, this will be different. Let’s make it different.

Dad, how can you make this different? 

Trust me, Mikey. Okay now bring your knee up. 

What do you mean bring my knee up?

Like you need your knee to help you hold up the tower. 

Dad this is so dumb


©2022 CBialczak Fiction

Friday Fictioneers

Rochelle is the host:

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Go ahead Billy, if you think it’s such a good idea. 

No way, I’m not opening the door. I didn’t say it was a good idea I just said maybe he left some money in it or something. 

By the smell of it he must have left his lunch in it, it smells disgusting!

That’s a strong smell for an old, rotting lunch. My lunch has never smelled that bad even when I’ve forgotten it in my backpack for the weekend. 

Well, what is that smell then?

I don’t know. Like I said, go open the door and we’ll see. 

©2022 CBialczak Fiction

Friday Fictioneers

Rochelle is the host of Friday Fictioneers

Marcia walked in and saw that all the tables on the perimeter were taken. Inside she cringed. She really didn’t want to meet Brian, her blind date, and be seated in the center of all the people. She didn’t know what he looked like or what they would even talk about! How embarrassing if they sit there silently eating their meal in front of everyone. She would feel awkward. It felt like if you were going to sit where you were the center of attention you should at least look like you are happy and having fun. (100 words)

©2022 CBialczak Fiction

Friday Fictioneers

Rochelle is the host of Friday Fictioneers!

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A New Day

From my window I could see the water lapping upon the shore, hear the surf hitting the land, smell the salty water. I was here to relax, to enjoy time by myself, to take time to reflect upon the last year that held so many feelings and memories. So I sat. I watched the water move by itself. I thought of all the days I have lived, the people who I have loved, and the things I have done. There is some regret and some sadness but today is the day I will open my eyes to a new beginning.

©2022 CBialczak Fiction

Friday Fictioneers

Visit Rochelle’s site to participate

Marcus walked up to the table with some apprehension.
“Is someone sitting here?”
He noticed the other glasses on the table.

“Nope, go ahead,” replied Veva, not moving her eyes away from the newspaper in front of her.

“Do you eat here often?”

“Nope, first time,” replied Veva; again not making any move to look up.

“What did you order?”

“Sorry, but don’t you see I’m trying to eat?” Veva asked.

Marcus was taken aback a little but for the first time in a long time he felt more relaxed than ever.

Friday Fictioneers

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Find the prompt on Rochelle’s site:

My focus had been on my feet, trying to maintain my footing despite the uneven ground or large roots protruding into the path. It wasn’t until I heard the snap of a branch that I looked up and saw the root cellar. 

Slowly I approached and could hear the soft hum of a guitar. Was I hearing things? As soon as I walked around the side to the front of the building I  saw him. It was a  young boy, guitar in hand, rocking  in an old wicker rocker, singing softly to himself, eyes closed, in  his own little world. 

©2021 CBialczak