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Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

FF – Devourers

July 11, 2018 67 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Liz Young.

This story comes with special exclusive bonus content!

Copyright Liz Young

 

Locked in a cage. Swathed in bandages, covering… best not look. A body become toxic waste, ravaged by… see those silken threads?… arachnids of alien origin.

They devour; flesh, bones, organs, brain liquified, not quickly, oh no! slow, painful, excruciating. Is that a house spider above your bed or a devourer of flesh? How to tell?

Or is the scene a student prank? Ill-conceived perhaps, yet ultimately harmless. We choose to believe this so that we may sleep at night, yet wilful ignorance will not save us.

They are coming. They are here. Our end is assured.

 

Spider General

Click here to Fear The Spiders!

 

FF – The Music of Life

June 27, 2018 68 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Rochelle as well!

I popped a little musical glossary at the end in case you know as little about music as me 🙂

 

Bran dropped the duster and stared at the instruments, seeing his life written in music. The ebb and flow of the melody, at times allegro, others adagio. His early years, the rise and swell of a rousing march. The loss of his parents, a slow, melancholy dirge in a minor key.

His adoption by the Maestro? What music represented such misery?

“Bran! Stop dreaming! Clean! Clean, you worthless idiot!”

The belt cracked across his back. He choked back the tears and eyed the tuba, gauging its weight. Truly a blunt instrument.

The music was about to get messily, violently fortissimo.

 

 

allegro: played very quickly
adagio: a slow passage
fortissimo: played very loud

 

FF – Wife Unfazed

June 20, 2018 77 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Fatima Fakier Deria.

 

“Hey, get outta the way! Yes, you! Where’s that horn…”

Whaaaa wha wha whaaaa!

“What you lookin’ at? You wanna piece ‘a me? YOU WANNA PIECE ‘A ME? Thought not. Coming through! Oy, you with the vegetable boat. SHIFT IT! Full speed ahead…”

Smash crunch sink sink sink

“…screw you and your cabbages…”

Meanwhile, below-decks…

“Yes, Dorothy, on the canals… his stress levels? Not noticeably, no… it was supposed to be a de-stresser for top executives, yes… not working, no…”

“Aaaargh!” splash

“…think he’s fallen in… go back for him? No, I don’t think so… much more enjoyable now, yes…”

 

FF – SpyBird

June 13, 2018 72 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jean L. Hays.

I’m not all that taken with my story this week, it just seems to amble along, but never mind 🙂

Copyright Jean L. Hays

 

Inside the truck, Agent Smith describes his new invention to his superiors…

“There’s SpyBird approaching the house, its cunningly situated head-mounted micro-camera transmitting everything it sees to our monitor. See how it sneaks covertly past the window.”

Inside the drug dealers’ house…

“Hey, there’s a bird flapping around outside the window with a great big camera strapped to its head. Kill it!”

And so Agent Smith’s SpyBird was consigned to the bin of espionage history alongside his equally ill-fated MurderPen, ExplosionSoap and ElectrocutionDoorbell. He later died of massive blood loss following an unfortunate incident during development of his ScissorBladeToiletSeat.

 

Pegman – The Forever Bunker

June 10, 2018 46 comments

Here is a story I wrote for What Pegman Saw, which takes us to Palo Duro State Park in Texas.

I seem to drop in and out of Pegman when the muse takes me and when I have time. Hope that’s okay.

Copyright Erik Rathgaber for Google Maps

 

Jeff checked the environmental seals, as he did every day. The same routine, every day of his life.

Ding dong!

The doorbell! This had never happened before! He ran to the hatch, donned his environmental suit and triggered the release. Outside stood a man… in normal clothes!

“How… how…?”

“Is this bunker 27? What are you all still doing down there? The Earth has been habitable for over 100 years!”

“But… I’ve looked out, every day. There’s nothing… devastation for miles, only scrub…”

“It’s the desert. It’s supposed to look like that.”

“The desert? Why was I not informed?”

“It’s all in the literature.”

“Well, maybe, but who has the time to read all that?”

“Time? Time? You’ve had nothing but time.”

“Hmm. 100 years, you say? I don’t suppose the others’ll be all that happy. Best not tell them. Good day to you.”

Slam.

100 years later…

Ding dong!

 

FF – DocuDrone 4000

June 6, 2018 65 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Roger Bultot.

Copyright Roger Bultot

 

“Good, yes, good shot, zoom…”

“This drone is great. This’ll be one hell of a documentary.”

“Yep! Lower… careful, CAREFUL! Okay, that was his carotid artery. What a mess.”

“It’s really hard to control.”

“Watch out… urgh. I hope she wasn’t right-handed.”

“Why are the rotor blades so sharp?”

“Dunno. We got it cheap from military surplus.”

“Zooming in for a headshot. Wonder what this button does?”

 Rat-a-tat-a-tat splatter.

“Oh, hell. Headshot is right.”

“What’s the name of this documentary, anyway?”

“Originally, Faces of Art. Now… Murder at the Museum? Bohemian Bloodbath? Thirty to Life, No Parole? Take your pick.”

 

FF – Not to be Trifled With

May 30, 2018 60 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Connie Gayer. After insulting Rochelle’s heirloom last week, I thought I’d leave Russell alone 🙂

Copyright Connie Gayer

 

“What’ya doin’, Bill?”

“Planting taters!”

“What fer?”

“Uncle Frank say he givin’ me a hun’red dollars fer doin’ it!”

“Wow! A hun’red dollars! You’ll be rich. Where’d he git so much?”

“Stole it off’a Aunt Vera, he tol’ me.”

“Whoa. Scary lady. Not ter be trifled wiv. Don’t you be gittin’ mixed up in it, Bill.”

“C’mon, what she gonna do? I kin buy a new bike, new shoes, everyfink!”

“Yeah, true. An’ it’ll be Uncle Frank she mad at, not you.”

“Hey, wos dis? Somefink’s in da hole!”

“Dig down!”

“Diggin’! Ooh…”

“Wos down dere?”

“Uncle Frank.”

“Well, shit.”