Friday Fictioneers: A Frosty Start

Over at the Addicted to Purple blog, Rochelle has challenged us to write a story of ±100 words based on the photograph below.

Photo prompt © Sandra Crook

Photo prompt © Sandra Crook


Genre: Narrative Fiction
Word Count: 100
Title: A Frosty Start

“The stump said
the skunk stunk,

but the skunk
said the stump stunk.”

Say that 3 times fast, Eddie thought as he walked across the frost covered field. Crazy Daisy, the German short-haired pointer, trotted ahead of him.

Daisy went into Point and a pheasant took flight. Eddie raised the shotgun, aimed and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion. The bird flew away.


Eddie looked to see the dog sitting, staring at him.

“Sorry, girl.”

Daisy continued to stare.

“C’mon, girl, let’s get another one.” Eddie walked toward the fence line.

Daisy remained seated. What a Rube.

 Click on the button below to see more entries for this challenge.

  20 comments for “Friday Fictioneers: A Frosty Start

  1. March 17, 2015 at 2:56 PM

    For some reason this reminded me of the saying that dogs own people not vice versa. =D I’ve always found the idea of hunting dogs somehow … amusing, like who is really in charge there? I love how you play on that.

    • March 17, 2015 at 6:46 PM

      A great observation about the dogs. Who’s in charge depends on who you ask in this case.

      Thanks for your comment.

  2. March 15, 2015 at 9:21 PM

    Funny story. I think Eddie is the “country bumpkin” and Daisy isn’t as crazy as they call her. 🙂

  3. March 15, 2015 at 5:04 PM

    Poor Daisy, no matter how perfect her posture Eddie the Rube missed the point, probably got stuck at the stinky stump. Love the rhythm in your compact story.

    • March 15, 2015 at 5:08 PM

      This is spooky, I was just thinking about you. Glad you liked the story.

  4. March 15, 2015 at 1:58 PM

    A dog’s POV. Good one, Allan.


  5. March 14, 2015 at 8:13 PM

    I’m taking it that he killed the dog instead of the pheasant. Being a dog lover I find this very sad but it is a good story with that twist at the end.

    • March 14, 2015 at 8:21 PM

      As I see it, the dog is fine. Frustrated with his master, but alive & well.

      Sent from my iPhone


      • March 15, 2015 at 1:46 PM

        I was fooled by the repetition of staring. Dead bodies stare and are also immobile. It was a good flash nevertheless. 🙂

  6. March 14, 2015 at 7:21 PM

    Love pheasant, but never went hunting. Wish I had, now.

    • March 14, 2015 at 8:22 PM

      Practice first.

      Sent from my iPhone


      • March 14, 2015 at 8:32 PM

        Yeah, I guess. I can shoot. That’s not the problem. It’s my age. My body doesn’t want to move through the ditches and the weeds to get to the birds. And you know you can be standing right on top of them and they won’t move. My bones are getting tired! 😃

        • March 15, 2015 at 6:52 AM

          Perhaps the aisles of your local supermarket will yield a more bountiful harvest. It’s not the same, but it can be a more achievable goal.

  7. March 14, 2015 at 6:47 PM

    Good story but what does a Rube mean in your story?

    • March 14, 2015 at 7:20 PM

      I used “Rube” to mean a naive, country bumpkin.

      Sent from my iPhone


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