We need to include at least two different types of animal, and there must be some form of game involved – and what better than the Annual Worldwide Woodland Games?
I have been sure to label my creations, as the DraliDoodles team is not very good and it’s impossible to tell one type of creature from another!
Without further ado, let’s meet the teams.
Hello everyone, and welcome to my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers, a weekly 100-ish word flash fiction photo challenge hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo comes to us courtesy of Dawn Q. Landau and features some people walking up a railway line with a dog trailing behind.
They could be on a Sunday afternoon stroll or… or… well, if this photo doesn’t scream “post-apocalyptic dystopian future” I don’t know what does!
To read this week’s other entries, or to add one of your own, click on the little blue froggy.
Julie trudged along the railway. The others were far ahead, but she was tired, so very tired.
Once there were trains running along these tracks, she thought. Before the Pulse, when there was electricity, there were trains and computers and… food.
At that thought, her stomach twisted. How long since her last meal? Two days? Three? She rummaged around, stuffing the crumbs she found into her mouth.
How far is this promised “sanctuary”, anyway?
How much longer could she last without food? She looked back at her beloved dog hungrily.
One day you’ll perform one final sacrifice for me, old friend. But not today.
It is time for Barbara Beacham’s “Mondays Finish the Story” here at the Drali blog. We get a photo and a starting sentence to prompt us to write our 150 word story.
My title this week is rather ironic since my muse is absent today. I blame it on a very busy day at work. The genre for my story this week, therefore, is “wishy-washy”. It’s a few words over, but after researching the invention date of the typewriter I had to make some last minute adjustments.
The supplied sentence is in bold in my story, and to read this week’s other contributions, click on the little blue froggy.
The old typewriter had a mind of its own. A mind, and a flair for the creative.
As quill, pencil and typewriter, Underwood (for that was now his name) had steered many of the greats. Where would they have been without him? Austen with her ridiculously-titled “Pride and Peanuts”? Or Tolkein’s “The Hedgehog” and planned three-parter “Lord of the Hedgerows”? Underwood had soon put them straight, working tirelessly behind the scenes. Even stubborn Dickens had been persuaded to change direction only three pages into “A Christmas Singalong With Mulled Wine and Whatnot”.
Now everyone used computers. Pah! Soulless machines. He would never stoop to inhabiting such a beast. A typewriter he would remain.
So he couldn’t connect to Facebook. So what? One of the greatest muses of all time, reduced to a paper weight. Yesterday’s news.
So no-one was more surprised than Underwood when his owner’s son came in from school, threw his iPad on the bed, sat at the desk, loaded some paper – and began to type.
Now, I’m probably not the best person to ask to do this. I’m not sure I know anything about love. 99% of my flash fiction is either comedy, dark humour in which someone dies in an unexpected and humorous fashion, or dark, in which one or more people die in a horrific fashion. I’ve written enough apocalyptic stories that I’ve probably wiped out somewhere in the region of fifty billion people. In fact this is so expected that in my one attempt at romance, in which the woman “melts” at the end, at least one commenter thought she literally melted.
So, here goes.
Playstation 4, rock on!
That’s the silly one out of the way.
Lives shared, forever one
That didn’t sound too bad. Let’s try another.
Two hearts, one head
That didn’t sound quite right. I’ll rephrase.
One heart, two brains
That’s even worse. Well, you get the gist.
Her face, butterflies flutter
Now we’re back on track! How about a four word Haiku:
Cynic or realist? You decide.
Floating blissfully in Heaven
I like the floaty theme. Here’s another:
Drifting in dreamy skies
Yeah! Now let’s try “the four stages of lurve”:
Fear, excitement, bliss, comfort
It starts with “fear” for me, anyway, or at least “extreme nervousness”. There weren’t enough words allowed for the fifth stage, disillusionment. I’ve ruined it now.
And for my final phrase:
This drawer’s for you
I did it! I did it! Sort of. Finally, there is supposed to be my favourite love quote from a book or film or whatever. Well, good luck with that. Sorry. I tried :-).
I’m not going to tag others as I don’t know who to tag, but if anyone else wants to try, go for it!
Here is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers for this week. This is a weekly challenge hosted by Rochelle and this week the prompt photo was contributed by Marie Gail Stratford. Thanks, Marie Gail Stratford!
To view the other stories or to contribute one of your own, click the blue froggy.
It had existed since the beginning of time, its crystalline shell holding safe its essence. It had seen stars explode, planets burn. Many of these cosmic catastrophes it had caused, for it was bored and spiteful.
Now it had found a new victim for its amusement. The planet Earth.
Hiding in plain sight on a mantelpiece in a small terraced house in Catford, it gathered its will and made ready to strike…
… and smashed on the floor, its billions of years of existence and hatred shattered.
“Timmy! What have I told you about playing football in the house? That was a wedding gift.”