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FF – Not Any More
Here is my rerun post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s rerun was suggested by Kent Bonham and the photo was contributed by Janet Webb.
I first wrote this in 2013 but I’ve fiddled with it a tiny bit here.
To read this week’s other stories click on the blue froggy.
“Hey Dad, what’s up with Bert, all alone over there?”
“He’s sulking. He doesn’t like the wet stuff. He’s worried he’ll rust.”
“Where did all the flesh-things go? Did they rust?”
“Maybe. Or maybe they melted. They never looked very hardy to me.”
“Where did all the wet stuff come from?”
“Full of questions today, aren’t you? I heard it used to be solid and far away. Then everything warmed up and now it’s all wet and it’s everywhere.”
“So why are we here, Dad? Do we have a purpose?”
“Not any more, son. Not any more.”
FF – Dangerous Waters
Here is my almost duplicate post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. It’s a rerun from September 2013 and the photo was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields.
Originally I managed to write the word “beast” about 10 times so I’ve had a go at sorting that. I was going to write something about those massive giraffes on the horizon but Elder Scrolls Online won’t play itself. Well, actually it will, but without me 😦 And I’ve been horribly busy at work so the reruns have come at a good time. A few people who are still around read it last time – feel free to reuse your comment!
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Photo copyright Jan Wayne Fields
The little boat tossed on the choppy waters of the bay as Jedrik demonstrated a simple reef knot to his grandson. The young lad watched entranced as the old man’s gnarled fingers once again worked their magic.
Scant yards away the shark, lost and hungry after a long journey through unknown waters, tracked the large beast. It had broken such creatures before. Though hard and tasteless on the outside, it knew that they always contained tasty morsels of flesh within. It had only to break the shell.
The shark altered its course towards the boat and increased speed.
FF – Counting More Sheep
As it’s another re-run week on Friday Fictioneers, I have decided in my current lazy mood to re-post the same story I wrote 2 years ago :-).
Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle, the photo was contributed by Sandra Crook and the re-do was requested by Jennifer Pendergast.
Click on the blue froggy for this week’s other stories!
“Look out! Run for your lives and don’t look back!”
“What? Are you not asleep yet? I thought you were counting sheep?”
“Yeah, awesome zombie sheep! They’ve surrounded a car and they’re eating the occupants. There’s blood and body parts everywhere. They’re bleating ‘baa baa baaaarains!’”
“Okay, this isn’t working. Try counting something else.”
“Like what?”
“Something a little more soothing. A little more sedate. Like cows. Try counting cows. I need to sleep myself, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow.”
“Cows it is then.”
Ten minutes later…
“Woah! Run!”
“Ugh. What is it now?!”
“Awesome vampire cows!”
FF – Exile
Here is my post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo is from 2012 and was contributed by Jan Marler Morrill. It was suggested as a redo by Sandra Crook.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Derek squinted, grunting in pain as the merciless sun reflected from the whitewashed buildings. On reflex he raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow but encountered only dried salt. What kind of hell was this?
How he missed the ice and snow of his homeland, how he dreamed of nights on watch, huddled in his furs as he guarded the Keep. How he longed to return! Surely the Order would take him back once he repaid his debt, once he brought proof of the Betrayer’s death? Drawing the dagger from its sheath, he slipped into the alley.
FF – Rebirth
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. She also supplied this week’s photo which is a redo from many years ago and was suggested by Kent Bonham.
After I wrote this story it occurred to me that, all unplanned, it could be a continuation of my last one, but set two years later.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Ice glistened, a delicate filigree tracing intricate patterns across the window. Edward traced his finger over the loops and swirls, a morning ritual. At last he turned away to begin another gruelling day of nuclear winter.
Reaching for the door handle, he noticed a glint of orange flicker across the wall. Turning back, he saw the window glow with light, blazing yellow as the sun, hidden these past two years, illuminated the swirls of frost with the promise of life.
The dust had settled, the long winter ended, the remnants of the human race reborn to a new dawn.
FF – Sunshine
Here is my post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This photo was originally posted a few months before I started, and was supplied by Rich Voza.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Rich Voza
“Are we not getting on the plane, Mummy?”
“No, sweetheart, not today.”
“But… the sun is nearly down and you said it would be daytime when we took off.”
Sophie looked to her husband for support, eyes moist.
“That’s not the sun, pumpkin,” he told his little girl. “Let’s go back inside.”
“Are we far enough away, do you think?” asked Sophie quietly as their daughter scampered back to the terminal.
“From the initial blast, yes,” said her husband, “but the wind’s blowing from that direction. Fallout.”
Sophie shuddered, her tears drying in an instant as a second sun burst over the terminal building.
FF – Maestro
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo this week was contributed by John Nixon and is another repeat. Before my time, however, so it’s new to me.
It’s a mad-looking picture so I’ve written a mad story. Perhaps next week this crazy writing will end and I’ll manage a more sensible story :-).
For this week’s other entries, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright John Nixon
His fingers flew across the keys, sweat glistening, heart pumping faster and faster, breathing becoming laboured… he lost himself, becoming one with the piano itself, impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
With a flourish, he hit the final triumphant chord, turned, gave a quick bow and collapsed, exhausted, into his seat.
His audience looked on, faces blank. Finally, one of them spoke.
“That’s all very well, Mr Davis, but where were you on the night of the fourteenth between nine and eleven pm?”
Note to self: Interview Room 1 is no place for a piano. Move to canteen.
FF – The Importance of Specificity
Here is my post for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo, provided by Douglas M. MacIlroy, is another redo, but this time I was around for the original.
Therefore I have done a sort of a story. It’s a bit puerile. I remember I had no real ideas the first time around either, but my original story, “Punchline”, can be found here.
I’m a bit later this week as yesterday evening I had dinner with Louise (aka afairymind from The Story Teller’s Abode) and her mum (Millie Thom) and Dad. Within minutes we were chatting like old friends, they’re just as lovely in “the real life” as in the blogosphere!
To read this week’s other stories/reruns, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Douglas M MacIlroy
“Go on!” yelled Fred excitedly. “Grab a bat and whack me! I’m invincible in this helmet, it’s indestructible! No more head trauma for me!”
Glee etched on her face, his little sister did as she was told, swinging the bat as hard as her seven-year-old arms would allow. She’d dreamed of this moment!
THWACK!
Inside the diver’s helmet, Fred’s eyes widened in shock. His mouth gaped open, and with a barely audible “ugh” he slumped to the ground, clutching his splattered groin.
The moral of this story? Say what you mean. Be specific. Because squashed nads hurt. Like, a lot.
FF – Rustic Real Estate
Here is my post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Piya Singh and I believe it is from a few years ago.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Piya Singh
“How are we gonna sell this?”
“I’ve offloaded worse.”
“It took us three hours to get here – on foot. There’s no heating, no plumbing and no electricity. Hell, it doesn’t even have interior walls.”
“Ah, but if you turn the wheel at the front the whole cottage rotates, so you always get the sun! Very forward-thinking, Victorian inventors.”
“Yeah, pretty awesome, but a wheel requiring twenty people to shift?”
“Details, details…”
Picturesque period property, privacy guaranteed. Open-plan, “olde worlde” feel, benefits from all-day sunshine via unique rotational architecture. Ideal for “back to nature” commune of twenty plus. £750,000 o.n.o.
FF – The Accidental Plagiarist
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week she also supplied the photo!
To read the other stories for this week, click on the blue froggy.
“The waves, with gentle susurration speak to me, as angels’ voices speak of peace…”
“You’re on a poetry kick again? It’s rubbish.”
“It’s for a poetry competition.”
“Seriously, it’s mindless pap.”
“Haters gonna hate.”
“Try again.”
“Okay. Water, water, everywhere and all the boards did shrink…”
“That’s better, but it sounds kinda familiar.”
“It’s cool. And then… Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink. I’m sending it.”
(click!)
“I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before. We don’t want a repeat of the last competition you entered. How did it go again?”
“I wandered lonely as a cloud…”
Our poet’s “inspiration”:
“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” (often known as “Daffodils”), William Wordsworth, 1804-ish
“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, Iron Maiden 1984 🙂 heh heh, or Samuel Taylor Coleridge if your prefer, 1797/8
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