Archive
FF – Little House of Horrors
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Penny Gadd.
For the other stories, click on the froggy.

Copyright Penny Gadd
Knock knock
“Hi, welcome, come in!”
“Oh, okay, thanks.”
“Here, let me show you around. Here’s the sofa.”
“Oh, yes. Nice.”
“And the bookcase.”
“Lovely. I see you have all fifteen volumes of ‘Yapia’.”
“Yes.”
“What’s that, then?”
“Dunno. It’s all in foreign.”
“Oh. And that plant. Very interesting. What is it?”
“A man-eating death plant. It’s hungry.”
“Oh, man!”
“Sorry.”
“I only came round to borrow a cup of sugar.”
“Yeah. But what can you do?”
“I know. Nice knowing you. Wow. Bummer.”
“Right? Plant, eat!”
Slobber! Chomp! Burrrrrp! More! Feed me!
“Bon appetite, plant.”
Knock knock
“Ooh, dessert!”
FF – Granny’s Stuck!
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Linda Kreger.
For this week’s other stories, click on the froggy.

Copyright Linda Kreger
“Broken leg at my time of life, that table left where anyone could trip over it…”
“Your table, Gran.”
“That house is a tip…”
“Your house, Gran.”
“Now I’m stuck on this hill, no strength, you youngsters…”
“Maybe if you’d been more careful…”
“The cheek!”
“Pull yourself along a bit?”
“At my time of life?”
“Drop your shopping, we’ll carry it.”
“You will not!”
“Please, Gran, we need you to help out here…”
“Be more careful, pull myself along, drop my shopping, help out… didn’t happen in my day… no respect, youngsters today… be telling me to release the brakes next…”
“GAAAHHHH!”
FF – Out of Date
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson.
I’m in a weird mood today so here’s a weird story. Click on the froggy to read all the other contributions.

Copyright Dale Rogerson
It appears to be a restaurant like any other…
“Superb meal, what-ho?”
“Top hole, don’t’cha know!”
“Ye-dishk’na ga… ulp, I meant, lovely…”
A diner stands and eviscerates the unfortunate. Yellow blood spurts…
… for this “restaurant” lies on a distant planet, a training ground for the infiltration of Earth. A century in preparation. Mistakes will not be tolerated!
They rise, adjust their cravats, top hats and monocles… they appear to be a century out of date! After all that preparation…
When they get to Earth they’ll look like a right load of dozy pillocks.
What a complete bollocks-up.
Invasion… cancelled.
A Bungled Camp-Out
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields.
I don’t know if you remember my completely fictional characters Rocheel and Dail and their Disappointing Day Out? Well, they’re back and joined by the equally fictional “Jon”! This week they’ve decided to go camping in the back garden…
To read the other stories, click on the froggy.

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields
“Aargh! Dail! Help!”
“What are you doing, Rocheel? Is that you under the tent?”
“It fell on me.”
“The instructions clearly say ‘insert section iii of pole B into flange A of tent flap 3, while gently tugging guide rope 7c’.”
“CLEARLY?”
“Fair enough. So, the barbecue…. hmm, nothing’s happening, maybe a bit more lighter fluid…”
WHOOMP!
“Aargh, my eyebrows, my eyebrows are gone, gone forever!”
“Well, Dail, who are we gong to blame for this debacle?”
As one, they turned to look toward the house…
“Good idea. Jon, oh Jon, could you come out here a moment please…?”
FF – False Assumption
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Randy Mazie.
This is a photo from December 2013 and I actually remembered it! I was going to just repost that story, but I wrote a new one so here’s a link to the old one instead. As a sort of drali-bonus. You’re welcome.
For all the stories, click on the froggy.

Copyright Randy Mazie
“No, we shouldn’t go in there!” Jeff was adamant.
“Ha, come on. ‘NO TRESSRASSING’? What does that even mean?!”
“It’s obvious. Come on, let’s go.”
“Chicken!” laughed Mike, already working at the boards on one of the windows. It creaked and splintered. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
Jeff peered through the window as Mike cavorted around the abandoned building.
“NO TRESPASSING!” boomed a voice. An axe swung. At first Jeff thought it had missed, then, almost in slow-motion, Mike’s head rolled from his body.
Jeff ran.
Just because you can’t spell, doesn’t mean you’re not a psychotic axe-wielding maniac.
















