draliman on life

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?

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’…

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…”

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

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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.

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

Copyright 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.

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!”

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

I couldn’t really think of anything this week. Very busy with work and then I spent the evening on a long walk so time got away from me!

Copyright C.E. Ayr

“And so, children, the blast of sound from the speakers blows the sand off the beach, thus leading to loss of land mass.”

“Sir, my mummy said it’s to do with The Climate Change, and…”

“FALSE NEWS! Go and stand in the corner!”

“Yes, Sir sniffle sniffle.”

Later…

“We can’t have this, Mr Trimp. I know your third cousin is a big shot in the States, but even so… if nothing else, your bright orange skin is scaring the kids.”

“Grr…”

Ring ring

“Hey cuz, I have a problem needs “handling”… Headmaster annoyance… yes, make it look like an accident again…”

Here is my contribution for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields.

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

“Look, babe, just what I need!”

“A straw hat.”

“Yes! Just right for my Revolution!”

“Your revolution.”

“Aloooohaaaa! Power to the People! The government shall fall!”

“That’s not what ‘Aloha’ means.”

“No?”

“No. Love, peace, an all-encompassing force…”

“That’s it! An all-encompassing force!”

“… which holds together existence.”

“Oh.”

“We’re supposed to be on holiday. I’m having an ice cream.”

“There’s ice cream? Can I have one?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Nice! Then we can find me a more suitable revolution hat.”

“Yes, dear. (This would be cute if you weren’t 51. I married a child. My parents warned me, did I listen?…)”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. She also supplied the photo this week!

This one is so madcap crazy it made me smile 🙂 So don’t expect a deep and meaningful discourse on man’s ability to litter even the most picturesque of spots.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Ah, walking in the woods, listening to the birds…”

THUMP!

“Well, what’re the odds?”

“Yeah, I know, right? We finally get out in the sunshine and a fridge falls on Roger. Must have fallen out a plane. I’d sue. Hey Roger, I’d sue!”

“I don’t think he can hear you. I wonder what’s inside?”

Creak

“Hey, it’s Roger!”

“Hi guys! The back of the fridge was missing, I ended up inside!”

“Well, that seems unlikely.”

“It does. I think we’re dreaming…”

Woo-ooo-ooo…

“Yep. We were dreaming. Roger’s been flattened alright. I can see his arm sticking out.”

“Well, shit.”