We’re all taught to share our stuff, yes?
Surely this doesn’t apply to chocolate? Chocolate has a special exemption. Here’s a photo of the back of a large-size (not what I’d call “large size”, in what crazy mixed-up universe is 100g of chocolate “large-size”?) Milky Bar I bought a couple of weeks ago.
I bunged on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy and five minutes later the Milky Bar was in my tummy. All of it.
“Great for sharing?”
(And if anyone thinks they’re getting a bite of my Easter eggs they can jog on.)
It’s Storybook Corner time again! As usual, I’m getting this in just under the wire.
This is a 300-500 word story based on a photo prompt, and is hosted by Adam Ickes. This week’s photo is quite open – just a door – where could it lead?
But first, the logo!
You can read the other stories for this month (March) by clicking on the little blue froggy below.
And here’s the photo for this month’s prompt.
Marcus took a deep breath and walked through the door, shaking the snow from his boots. It was warmer inside, and warmer too at his ultimate destination, he hoped.
They had arrived twenty-two years ago amid world-wide panic. “Invasion!” was the word on everyone’s lips. “Aliens!” followed close behind.
After a few days nothing untoward had happened. Contact was made.
The Vonotvi, they called themselves. A peaceful race from the far side of the galaxy, their planet had died when their sun exploded. These two hundred were the last of their race.
They brought new culture, new technology. Technology like Space Fold Unlimited Travel allowing almost instantaneous travel across the planet between any two terminals. Operated by SFUTlinkTM under the guidance of the Vonotvi, this building held one such terminal.
Today Marcus was travelling to warmer climes. The last of his family lost in a flaming mass of twisted metal, he was leaving familiar shores and painful memories behind.
He’d heard the stories, of course. People disappearing, walking in one end and never seen again. Nobody was particularly worried. Did they really disappear? No-one had reported them missing. Most were transients. Who knew if they were missing or not?
The Vonotvi had been on Earth for decades with never a problem and besides, there weren’t enough of them to cause trouble. Conspiracy theorists, they’ll always find something. Everyone used SFUT. Commuters, celebrities, hell, even world leaders. Perfectly safe!
And so Marcus walked up to the desk, swiped his ID and joined the queue of travellers. Men, women, children. Families. Families like the one he’d lost.
He swallowed to clear the lump in his throat and approached the Threshold. A swirling, pulsating mass of colours, the Threshold was everything popular science fiction had promised. One by one the travellers entered, to emerge on the other side of the planet. Marcus closed his eyes and crossed into the “tunnel”.
Immediately the air exploded from his body. He felt weightless. He opened his eyes but had no air in his lungs to scream as his eyeballs threatened to burst from his skull. He was floating in blackness, unable to breathe. Something had gone horribly wrong!
As consciousness left him, he imagined he saw a dark shape approaching.
When he opened his eyes again, everything was clear. He stood in a large metal bay, a hanger maybe, amidst many others. A huge screen flashed images of a planet – clear blue seas, huge cities, open countryside, somehow familiar? – his enhanced brain absorbed the information. Power generation centres, transport hubs, seats of power. Tactics. Mission parameters. The vicious pincers at the ends of his arms, bonded to his flesh, felt wrong somehow. Everything felt a little wrong, but he put that thought aside as he screeched the Vonotvi battle cry, echoed by thousands of others in the hanger.
Ka Vonotvi kee’ash! “For Vonotvi to the death!”
In the gallery above, two Vonotvi, or “Patient Ones”, smiled in grim satisfaction.
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again – that came round fast! – brought to us as always by Rochelle. The photo, to which we write a 100 word story, has this week been contributed by Douglas M. Macilroy.
Quite a fun photo this one, so I’ll leave the horror and my current penchant for demonic possession alone for this week! Here’s a bit of silliness instead.
To read all the other stories, click on the little blue froggy below.
“So, a diver, a carpenter and a lawyer walk into a living room…”
“You mean bar.”
“A diver, a carpenter and a lawyer walk into a bar.”
“Who’s telling this joke?”
“Well, excuse me.”
“May I continue?”
“If you must.”
“So, a diver, a carpenter and a lawyer walk into a living room, and the kid says, ‘What are you guys doing here?’”
“The kid in the living room. Right, so the guys look at each other and then the diver says – oh boy, this is hilarious, you’re gonna love this – the diver says…“
Aw darn, that’s my 100 words all used up. Hey, I didn’t make the rules.
What did the diver say? Was it really hilarious? Do we care? Tune in again, same time next week, for a completely different story with no diver, living room and still no punchline!
Not content with trying to cram a whole story into 100 words, I’ve decided to have a go at Adam Ickes’ “Six on the Sixth” prompt. The idea is to write between one and ten six word stories. Adam provides prompt words, which we don’t need to use – it’s all quite flexible really.
It’s six words on the sixth of the month – and it’s the twelfth today! Will the madness never end? If it’s the twelfth, do I get twelve words? Just checking… no, apparently I don’t.
There is a link-up so you can read all the other contributions – just click on the little blue froggy below. It’s amazing what people manage to fit into just six words!
For my first go I’ve decided to use each of the six prompt words as themes for my stories. Here goes!
Picnic’s promise stolen by Heaven’s tears.
Blindfold damp with tears. “Ready, aim…”
A careless step. Toe meets wall.
Chocolate, strawberry and vanilla (with sprinkles).
Head to toe, the tattooed man.
Blue and red – a winning combination!
It’s Friday and that means it’s time for Friday Fictioneers!
You can read all the other stories for this week by clicking on the little blue froggy. Here he is!
I’ve edited this a gazillion times and I’m still not entirely happy (I need about 30 more words!), but here it is anyway.
What with all this stuff at work I’m way behind with my reading but I promise I will try to catch up!
The festival was over. For Manuel it had been most profitable. Wallets, assorted watches, rings… one ring caught his attention. It looked old. Really old. There was an inscription, written in a script he had never seen before.
He’d taken it from an old, gaunt man whose skin had felt like paper, and so cold – wrong somehow – as Manuel had crushed the life from him.
He put the ring on, suppressing a shudder as it seemed to melt into his flesh.
Far away, Galchallon, Lord of the Dark, smiled. New flesh to do his bidding. A new soul upon which to feast.
Yes, I know, I went with yet another demonic possession. Weird, huh? What’s going on in this head of mine?