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Friday Fictioneers – Going Green?
Here is my little story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo this week was contributed by Melanie Greenwood.
You’d have thought a picture with a plane in it would have instantly forced any number of stories into my head, but no! Finally, I came up with this one.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the little blue froggy.
Copyright Melanie Greenwood
“Ah, the sleek lines, the beautiful curves… one’s aeroplane is not bad either!”
“Oh, Tarquin, you’re making me blush.”
“Come, darling Genevieve, let us board our jet.”
“Indeed, light of my life. Are the Farquharson-Smythes also attending?”
“Why of course, my scrumptious sweetmeat, that’s their aircraft just leaving the runway.”
“Super. I say, you there, watch what you’re doing with the luggage! That’s genuine snow tiger pelt! You can’t get the staff.”
“True, my love. Come, we must away! The ‘Rich Hypocrites Save Our Beautiful Green Planet Benefit’ waits for no man. Fly, Jeeves, and don’t spare the jet fuel!”
Friday Fictioneers – Backwards
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle. The photo was provided by Jean L Hays. It’s apparently another rerun, but before my time!
If you look closely, everything outside the window is the wrong way round! I’m still trying to get my brain to work out the specifics of it all :-(.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Jean L. Hays
“Open your eyes and take a look outside.”
“Everything’s… backwards! You weren’t kidding. The 708 Fulton really is a dimensional transport vehicle! Who’d’a thunk it?”
“Indeed! How old do you think I am?
“Um… thirty-five, thirty-six maybe?”
“Three hundred and five.”
“Wha…”
“Time travels backwards here. For every year I spend in our world, I spend a year here… getting younger! The net effect? I never age!”
“Woah… really?!”
“No, not really! Man, you’re so gullible! I positioned a mirror while your eyes were closed.”
“Whaaa… grrrrrr!”
“?eeffoc fo puC. eeh eeH”
“!ylevoL”
Friday Fictioneers – Christmas Cat Goes Clubbing
Here is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Scott L. Vannatter. That looks a lot like a driving licence in front of the cat, I wonder what he’s up to…?
To read the other stories for this week, click on the blue froggy. And have a wonderful Christmas everyone :-).
Copyright Scott L. Vannatter
Meow. Let’s see, that’s my fake ID ready. Name: “Pussy Willow”. Date of birth: “27/01/2012”. That should get me in.
I hear all the clubs are full of the cutest kitty cats at Christmas-time (whatever that is – all I know is at this time of year there’s loads of paper and boxes to play with).
Do I have everything? ID… check. Catnip… check. Have to hide that somewhere the bouncers won’t find it.
I’m gonna get some action tonight. Meeeeeow!
Have fun everyone, but drink your milk responsibly and take it easy with the catnip. Merry Christmas (whatever that is)!
Friday Fictioneers – Scorched Earth
Here is this week’s tale for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle also provided this week’s photo. To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
“How could this have happened? How could they not have noticed?”
“Maybe it’s hard to notice tiny amounts of chemicals building up in the atmosphere.”
“Until they catch fire and burn the Earth.”
“Yes. Until then.”
“How long do we have, do you think?”
“See that glow? That’s London burning. An hour, maybe?”
“I bet it’s an amazing sight from the space station.”
“I bet it is. The whole world on fire. It’ll burn until the oxygen runs out.”
“So this is the end.”
“For us. The world will recover. Nature always finds a way.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Friday Fictioneers – The Beginning of the End
Here is my tale for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo this week was contributed by Luther Silar.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Luther Silar
“Waaaaa! Waaaaa! Uncle Jeremy shot Flapper! Waaaaaa!”
“What the hell did you do, Jerry?”
“I thought that the Christmas turkey had escaped.”
“IT’S YELLOW!”
“Big Bird’s yellow.”
“Big Bird’s not real! Turkey’s aren’t yellow!”
“What is it then?”
“It is… was a ‘Flapper Enhanced Robotic Companion’. Look at Timmy’s little face. You’ve shot his present. You’ve ruined Christmas.”
“Robots? Huh. Good job I shot it, then. It’s the Rise of the Machines. What’s this, now?”
I am Robbie, your helpful Kitchen Companion. You have murdered Flapper. Therefore I will now terminate you.
“See? Told ya.”
Friday Fictioneers – Cosmic Toilet
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo this week was contributed by Roger Bultot.
I’ve gone for a silly, rather juvenile story this week. If you’re not familiar with “Dr Who”, all you need to know is that he travels through time in a TARDIS which is stuck looking like an old police box since its chameleon circuit jammed, and it’s bigger on the inside than the outside.
Click on the blue froggy to see this week’s other stories.
Copyright Roger Bultot
“Wow, look, that could be the TARDIS. Like off Dr Who!”
“It’s a portable toilet.”
“No, let’s go inside to see if he’s in there!”
“Who?”
“The Doctor, of course!”
“It’s a portable toilet.”
“Hmm, it is a bit of a tight squeeze. And very dark.”
“That’s because it’s a portable toilet. Hey, what’s that noise?”
“I thought since we’re in a portable toilet I’d offload that curry I had last night.”
“Oh my God. Let me out!”
“Aaaahhhh, that’s better. Hey, the door’s opening. Oy, occupied!”
Creeeaaak.
“What the Hell are you two doing in my TARDIS? And what is that smell?”
Friday Fictioneers – Vera Versus the Devil
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted as always by Rochelle. This week’s picture was contributed by FF stalwart Sandra Crook.
I’ve had a very odd and worrying week, so here’s a very odd story to go with it, best I can summon up right now.
Meet my heroine, doddery old Vera, as she sits on the beach enjoying a nice cup of tea. Feel free to apply a Northern English accent to her words :-).
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Sandra Crook
“Look at them cliffs, dearie. Lovely view!”
“I CARE NOTHING OF VIEWS! I AM COME…”
“Nice cup o’ tea?”
“… TO, um, TEAR YOUR REALM TO SHREDS…”
“And a tasty biscuit?”
“… um, AND DRAG YOU TO THE DEPTHS OF, um, yes, thank you… WAIT! I CARE NOTHING OF BISCUITS…”
“What did you say your name was, dearie?”
“Um, YOU WILL BURN, um, ‘Satan’, Ma’am.”
“Ooh, I knew some Seytons once, from over York way, are you related? Strange bunch. Nice bit o’ Madeira cake? Fresh this mornin’.”
“Um, BURN IN THE FIRES OF… oh, what’s the point.”
“Ooh, where’d he go? Odd fellow.”
Friday Fictioneers – People in Glass Houses
Here is my little story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted every week by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by C.E. Ayr.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright C.E. Ayr
“What’s that, Daddy?” asked little Sammie.
“That,” replied Daddy, “is a cattle grate for ants.”
“Geoffrey!” snapped Mummy. “It’s a drain, Sammie.”
“Ooh,” said Sammie. “Is Daddy a liar then, Mummy?”
“Yes, Sammie,” replied Mummy, “he is. That’s why I’m divorcing him.”
“Gahhhh!” yelled Daddy, eyeballs bulging. “You &&*$^%^% what?!”
“Language, Geoffrey,” said Mummy calmly.
“What’s ‘divorce’, Mummy?” asked Sammie.
“That’s when Mummy loved Daddy very much, but Daddy turned out to be a womanising asshat so she’s throwing him out,” explained Mummy.
“Ooh,” said Sammie. “Should I call Uncle Frank ‘Daddy’ from now on, then?”
“Frank from Accounting?!” yelled Daddy.
“Gahhhh!” exclaimed Mummy.
Friday Fictioneers – Those We Leave Behind
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers on this Armistice Day. Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle, and this week’s photo was kindly supplied by J. Hardy Carroll.
Click on the blue frog for this week’s other stories.
Copyright J Hardy Carroll
Cynthia watched, eyes damp, as her twin daughters scampered over to the grave. She saw them solemnly place the flowers before heading back.
They’d never met their father – he’d been deployed overseas while they were still living safe and unaware beneath her heart. This year they were old enough to place the flowers. In a few years’ time they would understand the sacrifice their father had made. They’d understand why he wasn’t there, why he’d never been there for them. Why he’d had to go.
Cynthia understood. But that didn’t make it any easier. There were some wounds even time couldn’t heal.
Friday Fictioneers – Pioneer Monkey
Here is my story for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo is by Dale Rogerson. Thanks, Dale!
To read this week’s other contributions, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Dale Rogerson
“What-ho, Simpkins, our submersible prototype returns!”
“Indeed, Pendergast. But wait, it is full to the brim with water!”
“Dash it. Quickly, retrieve the monkey.” They opened the hatch and pulled out a rather waterlogged simian.
“How fares he, Simpkins?” asked Pendergast.
“Speak to me, Chester!” shouted Simpkins, hammering on the monkey’s chest. Water spouted from its mouth.
Ook.
“Thank Heavens! Chester lives!”
“A palpable success, Simpkins,” said Pendergast. “I’ll wager you’re glad to be out of there, Chester!”
Ook! Ook!
“Tomorrow,” said Simpkins, “we shall trial our rocket ship, powered only by the flatulence of cattle. To the stars, Chester!”
Ooooook.
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