draliman on life

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

According to MS Word, “This language may be offensive to your reader.” You have been warned 😮

Shoes. Comfortable. Keep your feet warm. Take you where you need to go.

But what if they don’t? Occasionally, you get a well dodgy pair. They pull you into a pub, a gambling shop. They force you to kick some poor unsuspecting mug in the nuts.

Some shoes can be right proper bastards.

And what do you do then? You hang them. Hang them by the laces until they be dead.

It may seem harsh, but it’s the only way.

Keep your wits about you. Are any of your shoes right proper bastards? If so, act now.

Stay vigilant. Stay safe.

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

The scientists gasped as the quantum time-space manipulator hummed to life. The broken ruins before them transformed – pristine buildings, people everywhere… people under attack! The Ancients, an advanced yet savage, cannibalistic race thought to have left Earth millennia ago, were killing, burning – feasting.

“It’s like we’re actually there!” enthused Professor Hayworth, team leader. “A doorway to the past! This will rewrite history!”

One of the Ancients turned towards him and threw a spear. It slammed through the professor’s chest, throwing him backwards.

The scientists had forgotten what any schoolchild knows – a door, once opened, works both ways.

The Ancients flooded through.

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

I used to play wiv da kids across da street. But den deir parents tried to take our stuff an’ break our houses. So our parents built a big fence. Now I can’t play wiv dem any more. An’ dey is nasty now too. Dey grabbed my teddy bear Mr Fluffles through da fence and dey kicked him aroun’. I can’t reach him. He looks lonely. Dey won’t give him back. Poor Mr Fluffles.

I hope our parents can make up soon.

It cold tonight. Mr Fluffles doesn’t have any heating. I hope Mr Fluffles is okay.

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

I wonder what’s in there? thought the little boy as he wandered past. The doors and windows were barred, stopping him getting in. Sometimes he thought he heard noises inside, a voice maybe. He had asked, but his Dad told him it was just his imagination.

There was nothing in there.

I wonder what’s out there? thought the little girl as she sat in the dark. The doors and windows were barred, stopping her getting out. Sometimes, she thought she heard noises outside, a voice maybe. She had asked, but the Man told her it was just her imagination.

There was nothing out there.

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

“Daddy, why is it leaning?”

“Ah, son, that’s because when the aliens borrowed it for study they didn’t put it back straight.”

“Frank! Stop filling the kid’s head full of nonsense!”

Meanwhile, in orbit…

“Helmsman K’Charg, look at it! It’s on the piss! What does the Prime Directive say? Hmm? Hmm?”

“Umm, after borrowing an alien artefact for study, put it back the way you found it?”

“Exactly!”

“I think we’ll have trouble with that human specimen, then. I removed its head to look inside but when I glued it back on it wasn’t working anymore.”

“Oh, K’Charg, you idiot!”

“Hahaha!”

“Hahaha!”

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

I had nothing this week and finally, several days later than usual, ended up with this.

Did you notice? That the world is getting a little askew?

Don’t worry if you didn’t. It happens very slowly. Very slowly indeed. Just a tiny bit at a time. So it’s hard to spot.

Little by little everything goes sideways. Things aren’t quite right any more. If we don’t do something, pretty soon up will be down and left will be right and no-one will even have noticed.

But have you noticed?

Close your eyes and look at the world with your mind.

Does it look quite right to you?

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

I lurk behind the pulped tree matter, planning my move…

“What’s Miss Fluffypaws doing up there?”

“She’s fine, sweetie, leave her alone.”

… all undetected, I await, invisible, until it’s time to strike…

“She looks like she’s lurking.”

“She always looks like she’s lurking.”

… little do the two-legs suspect that their end is at hand…

“She’s looking at me funny, Dad!”

“Well, that’s cats for you.”

… I prepare to pounce, this is the Age of the Cat!…

“She knows we’re the ones who supply her food.”

… the two-legs make a good point… cancel attack… prepare to take nap… zzzzzzzzz

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

“You forgot where you parked the space module? It’s camouflaged as a truck and it could be on any planet, in any galaxy, in any time period? It could be anywhere, anywhen?”

“Yep. No wait, there it is.”

“What are the odds? Hang on, some bits have fallen off.”

“That’s just the disguise. No wait, it’s the warp drive.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Nope. How will we get back home to Klaziquarg?”

“I have a plan. I’ll put on an orange wig, get myself elected to high office and divert the nation’s finances to fixing our ship.”

“Make Klaziquarg great again!”

“Huzzah!”

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

Sebastian hurried home, shivering. He’d freeze before long. Midday? Might as well be midnight.

Looking up he could see candlelight flickering in a few homes. Some said they made the tallow from dead people. Rubbish, what a waste! A decent-sized dead person could feed a family for a week.

He swore as he stumbled over a frozen corpse and picked up his pace. Many would kill him for the food he’d found. Probably the last tin of beans on the planet.

Nuclear winter was no joke, but on the plus side, the human race had finally solved global warming.

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

Patrons screamed as a black-clad figure smashed through the ceiling window, dropping to the floor.

“Come out, Lobster!” he snarled. “Your evil-doing days are done!”

“Good evening, Sir,” said a waiter, quite unphased. “Table for one?”

“What? Where is the Lobster?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Sir. Maybe a cocktail while you wait?”

“I’m a top agent, dammit!”

“That’s nice, Sir.”

“I’ve got the wrong address again, haven’t I?”

“Indeed. We do have lobster, if Sir would care to choose one?”

“Fine. I’ll destroy the lobster one way or another.”

“Certainly, Sir. I’ll have the ceiling repairs added to your bill, Sir.”