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Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

FF – Wear a White Hat

August 5, 2020 65 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jennifer Pendergast back in April 2015.

This week I used lots of “tham thars” to add an authentic Wild West feel. I hope I didn’t overdo it 😉

If you want to read a more sensible tale, here’s the story I wrote back in the day.

 

“Quick, Jed, through tham thar railroad cars an’ inta that thar desert!”

Blam!

“They’s gettin’ closer, Herb!”

“Shuddup an’ run, Jed! Darn, I’m right regretting tham thar grits I ‘ad fer breakfast, all this runnin’.”

“Quit bellyachin’, them varmints is a-comin’ closer!”

Blam!

“Why they shootin’ at us, Herb? We ain’t done nothin’ wrong!”

“I tol’ ya, ya shouldn’t’a bought that thar black hat. I bet in years ta come, bad folks’ll be wearing tham thar black hats in them new-fangled movin’ pictures. Yer ahead-a yer time!”

“Yer red shirt ain’t helpin’!”

Blam!

Splat

 

FF – Worth Another Look

July 29, 2020 57 comments

Here is my sort-of story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo was contributed by Jean L Hays – way back in 2013!

Yes, it’s summer rerun time. This photo’s from December, as I found out as I started my search in January 2013…

dolphin_01

Copyright Jean L. Hays

 

“Hey, dude. We get a freebie this week.”

“What’s that then?”

“It’s summer rerun time. We can use our story from seven years ago.”

“Isn’t that, like, cheating?”

“Of course not! The very idea.”

“But that story was from ages ago. From ‘The Before Time’.”

“The what?”

“’Before.’ Before we wrote the good stuff.”

“The good stuff? High quality weed?”

“No. You know. Our trademark blend of humour, sensitivity and horrific dismemberments.”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s have a read, then. Hey! This could work! It’s mildly horrific.”

“It is! Let’s go for it.”

Read it here – Dry Clean Only.

 

FF – Not To Be

July 23, 2020 55 comments

Here is my contribution for Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle hosts, and also provided this week’s photo.

I’m a bit late this week. I finally got a little holiday now that furloughed staff are back in the office, and I forgot what day it was!

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

“Ah, darling, the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd…”

“I’d say you had that backwards, lovie-darling, but have you seen the audience tonight?”

“Plebs to a man.”

“Why let such riff-raff in? We are Actors. The hoi polloi have no right to enjoy our supreme talent, lovie.”

“Agree, darling, agree.”

Um, guys, your mics are on…

“Oh, um, well, lovie, that’s enough rehearsal for next week’s play, ‘The Arrogance of Actors’, um, um, oh.”

Guys, you know it’s the ‘El Lobo’ cartel’s annual get-together tonight, right…?

“To be… or not to be, that is the…”

Rat-a-tat-a-tat-bang-bang-rat-a-tat!

 

Not to be, evidently.

 

FF – You Can’t Get the Staff

July 15, 2020 64 comments

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

Copyright Jean L Hays

 

“Ooh, a surprise by the gate, I wonder what it could be?”

Nancy excitedly opened the box. She peeled back the lid and froze. Eyes wide, she dropped it, screaming. Her husband’s head rolled out, dead eyes staring at her as she sank to her knees.

Her fists clenched, resolve fixing her features. Trey Walker. She would track him down. She would track him down, by God, and she would… have very stern words with him.

She’d told him specifically to leave the head round the back.

Out of sight.

You just can’t get the staff these days.

 

FF – Problem Solved

July 8, 2020 58 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by A. Noni Mouse. Hey, that’s how I spell it too!

Copyright A. Noni Mouse

 

That’s the dishes done. Maybe I should put everything away. You’re ever a stickler for cleanliness, aren’t you dear? Oh, how you shout when I do something wrong. And your fists… oh, your fists…

No, I’m going to leave them be. Let them drip dry. I don’t suppose you’ll mind, will you dear? Not after that lovely treat I added to your supper last night.

Speaking of which, I do believe you’re starting to smell. I think I’ll pop you in the garden. Under the new patio, with a nice view of the compost heap.

You always loved the garden, didn’t you dear?

 

FF – RoboCity

July 1, 2020 52 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Na’ama Yehuda.

I had a lot of trouble thinking of a story for this one, and a very busy day at work too.

Copyright Na’ama Yehuda

 

“We’ve been here ages. Nobody’s moving. What’s going on?”

The manhole covers opened and a horde of machines, emblazoned with ‘StreetBot’, shot out and began cleaning the road. A nearby pedestrian noted the motionless cars, saw his chance and began to cross. A bot, emblazoned “JaywalkerBot” appeared, took aim and fired.

His bullet-ridden corpse was, of course, dragged away by a small army of ‘CorpseBots’.

“I say, they have a bot for everything! Well, I’m not waiting here any longer.”

His car moved off through the red light.

Unsurprisingly – I’m sure you’ve guessed – enter heavily-armed, missiles primed, ‘RedLightBot’…

 

FF – Tales From The Battlefield

June 24, 2020 55 comments

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

I’ve been working my way through the “Sharpe” films recently. Based on the novels of Bernard Cornwell, they tell the tale of a soldier during the Napoleonic wars of the early 19th century, raised from the ranks to become an officer (but not a Gentleman, obviously).

 

“I say, by Jove, it’s hot enough to fry an egg out here!”

“Think I’ll try.”

Sizzle.

“I say, Sir, you may not be a Gentleman but by the Devil’s beard you shall act like one!”

“Calm down.”

“The cheek! Fetch your musket, Sir, we go to decimate the village yonder!”

“It’s farmers. Women and children.”

“They have defied the British Empire, Sir, and they shall pay, Sir!”

“I have a better idea.”

BANG!

“Ugh. You’ve killed me, Sir!”

“Yep. I’m off to warn them the English are coming. Fancy a fried egg while you bleed out?”

Fling! Splat!

“Urgghhhhhhh…”

 

FF – Nobody’s Fool

June 17, 2020 64 comments

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

 

Simon waits until the window cleaner advances up the ladder, safely away, before opening his concealed safe.

Simon is nobody’s fool.

The window cleaner smiles as he checks his phone app, streaming footage from the camera concealed in his boot. It shows the location of the safe, the positions of the fingers on the keypad. Once the safe is closed, he will retreat, to return that night.

Simon fancies some fresh air. He opens the window, knocking the window cleaner from his ladder to a messy death far below.

An unfortunate accident?

Simon is nobody’s fool.

 

FF – Natter Natter

June 10, 2020 63 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Ronda Del Boccio.

 

“Ooh, look down there!”

“Yes, look down there!”

“Take a selfie!”

“I will take a selfie!”

Click

“Ooh, such fun, more Champagne?”

“Ooh, yes please…”

Natter natter chitter chatter blah blah…

The burners exchanged a look through their empty, soulless eyes. An unspoken agreement passed between them. As one, they tilted forward. As one, their valves rotated. As one, they belched forth cleansing flame, incinerating the noisy humans.

Lacking pilot, rudderless, the balloon floated on.

It would likely crash soon. And it was somewhat charred and smelled of barbecue.

The burners didn’t seem to mind.

They liked the quiet.

 

FF – Attack

June 3, 2020 68 comments

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

Copyright Ted Strutz

 

Jeff twisted and turned, but still they came. They were getting closer now, braver. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

Sensing movement, he ducked towards a wall. Too late. A rush of steely wings slammed into his face. Onwards he ran. Safety, so close. Only 20 metres away he could see his wife, beckoning.

Too slow.

Something crashed into him, scratching his hand. He looked down sadly. Two crinkle-cut crisps and half a picked gherkin where once had been an entire Happy Meal.

He raised his face to the skies and screamed.

“BLOODY SEAGULLS!”