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FF – Memorial Rose
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson.
Beth stroked the rose petals. She had snagged the flower from Jake’s funeral. A bit of a risk – Jake’s widow, Margie, might have seen her, but Jake had loved roses.
Such a shame – “accidental shooting”. Wrong place, wrong time.
It had become obvious, over the past few months, that Jake was never going to leave Margie. Beth had got this lovely flat out of him, though.
Surely, if she wanted the flower to remember him by, she wasn’t the psychopath that quack had said she was?
Anyway, no time to dawdle. She had a pistol to dispose of.
FF – Allergies
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Na’ama Yehuda.
Agent 9 took a deep breath and crept closer, picking his way through the flower beds. His target was in sight, a small, unassuming man – no-one would suspect what he carried in the briefcase at his side.
Agent 9 placed a finger beneath his nose, closed his eyes and proceeded. Close, so close… he could almost touch the man now. He held his breath a moment, concentrating, and released… better. He reached out towards the man… closer… closer…
aaaaaCHOOOOO!
The man ran, taking his suitcase nuke with him, ready for sale to the highest bidder.
Hay fever’s a bitch.
FF – The Last
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Carole Erdman-Grant.

He’d seen places like this everywhere. After the bombs fell they’d become havens for the depraved, daubed with gang signs making clear their purpose.
He saw no-one, however. He hadn’t for over a year. Violence, starvation and radiation had taken the world.
Many animals had survived the radiation-induced mutations, but he was the last human.
“I am the last! I am the final living… ugh.”
He didn’t even see the huge, mutated claw which took him. The last human he may have been, but there are worse things out there now than humans.
Welcome to the Age of the Mutant.
FF – Roses
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by David Stewart.
Smiling ruefully, he realised he’d made two lunches again. Sometimes he thought he could hear her. Any little noise in the house, in the garden. Like she was still there.
Sometimes he forgot she was gone.
She had been a good wife. She kept the house well. If only she hadn’t been such a nag. Do this, do that, you’re lazy, lazy!
It was enough to drive a man to murder.
Shrugging, he shuffled over to the back window. His rose bushes were flourishing. Ironically, though she hadn’t been much of a gardener in life, his wife made fantastic fertiliser.