draliman on life

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

Ah, the bustle of the big city, all of life happening around me, walking along eating my pizza slice, some kids on the corner, looking at me funny, coming right at me!

Woohooo!

“Hey, my lunch! Come back with my lunch! I’ve had enough of the city.”

Much later…

Ah, the quiet of nature, beauty all around me, paddling along eating my packed lunch, a huge bird on a log, looking at me funny, coming right at me!

Squaaaaak!

“Hey, my lunch! Come back with my lunch! I’ve had enough of nature.”

😦 Not safe anywhere 😦

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

I did go looking for my post for this photo from 2014 and eventually found it. But I decided to write a new one as it was a bit of a downer.

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

Spring, and the river runs clear, Nature’s canvas. The world begins.

Summer, and the river teems with life. The world flourishes.

Autumn, and the river fears. Its creatures die, choking on Man’s effluence. The world teeters.

Winter, and the river mourns. Putrid sickness flows sluggishly to empty seas. The world dies.

Spring, and the river flows clear. New life appears. The world, reborn. A second chance.

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

It could happen anywhere. At any time. To anyone.

It had started two years ago. The folding of the fabric of reality. Nobody really understood it, not even the scientists, though everyone unanimously agreed that “something had gone wrong somewhere”.

Look at that poor cyclist. Riding along, minding their own business and suddenly they’re at one with the wall. What a way to go.

It’s not always fatal. One time, a prominent politician got so reconfigured he ended up literally talking out of his ass.

No-one noticed for a month.

The world’s always been a bit twisted though, I guess.

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

“Open your eyes, darling! Ta-daaa!”

“And that is?”

“It’s an original 1914 Harley-Davidson!”

“Okaaaaay…”

“Original frame, engine, fittings, look at this bit, oops, I can probably stick that bit back on…”

“…”

“… look at the style, the form…”

“…”

“… it’s an absolute classic! A bit of a rub down, a lick of paint and it’ll be as good as new!”

“…”

“Just imagine zooming down the road, my sweet. You’ll be the talk of the town!”

“…”

“Anyway… happy anniversary, my cupcake! So, what did you get me?”

“A divorce.”

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

Warning – this week’s story may be a tad “spicy”, but it’s the first thing that leapt into my mind 😮 and now I can’t think of anything else.

“What do we have, Constable?”

“An explosion, Sarge. No casualties, thank god, but there’s wreckage blown everywhere.”

“Right then, let’s have a look. What’s this thing?”

“No idea, Sarge. Maybe… this bit would go here, and… urgh, no!”

“Hmm, I reckon maybe you put this part around here, and then this bit would go… no, no, no!”

“I think maybe… maybe we’re better off not knowing, Sarge.”

“I think you’re right, Constable. Bag it all up!”

“Right you are, Sarge. I really don’t understand why anyone would want to blow up ‘Helga’s House of Pain’ anyway…”

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

Gary rubbed his hands, blowing on them for warmth. It was freezing this morning, but such a beautiful day!

He could hear birds chirping in the trees. They must be cold! Even though the sun had risen, it was weak. The temperature wouldn’t rise above freezing until Spring.

He reached the pond, small but deep and a favourite spot for young lovers. A local “Casanova”, he’d been here only last night.

She shouldn’t have rejected him but the ice, as he had hoped, was completely opaque. He’d be hundreds of miles away before they found the body.

Such a beautiful day!

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

I take a picture of myself… taking a picture of myself! A loop is created… the universe will collapse! I can feel atoms beginning to unravel… I look outside… all is darkness… IT WORKED bwahahaha!

“Mum! Mum! It’s all dark outside! I’ve destroyed the universe!”

“The sun’s gone down, dear. It’s late. Go to bed. School tomorrow.”

“Darn. Therefore, mother, I shall try two mirrors facing each other. The infinite loop will surely destroy the universe bwahahaha!”

“That’s nice, dear. Now go to bed.”

A reprieve for life as we know it. Until tomorrow, universe. Bwahahaha!

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

He’d found the bauble in a bin. Not the meal he’d hoped for, but still… looked nice over his sleeping bag.

The sharp crack of an air rifle woke him. Around him lay his shattered bauble. A lad – no more than twenty – stood, laughing.

“Alright, grandpa!”

The lad lifted the air rifle and shot again, again. The snow spurted to the left, the right.

“Run, useless tramp!”

He fumbled in his bag, retrieved a souvenir from a long forgotten war, and blew the lad’s brains out. They looked kinda pretty in the snow.

No respect. Sometimes he wished he’d died in the Gulf.

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

He watched as the fields raced past. Plenty of greenery, that had recovered quite nicely. But no people. No birds. No animals. Only plants.

This wasn’t life. Sitting at the carriage window every day, watching the remains of the world rush by.

The Train. A blessing or a curse?

He walked to one of the Termination Cubicles. Tapping in the required codes, he accepted the warning and the external window opened.

In seconds he was dead, the poisoned air searing his lungs. Once the air was recycled, he would be too. Nothing wasted.

Maybe one day people might survive outside again.

Maybe.