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A Cautionary Tale
Here is my entry for June’s Storybook Corner, hosted by Adam Ickes.
I usually post my entry with mere hours to go, but I have three weeks yet – are you impressed? Here is the logo.
In the Name of Progress
It’s Friday Fictioneers time! Our host Rochelle is taking a break, but the show must go on and this week’s photo (originally a prompt from August 2012) has been contributed by Madison Woods.
To read all the other contributions click on Bracken, the little blue froggy.
Copyright Madison Woods
It had stood for countless ages. Wars had been fought around its trunk. Lovers had embraced beneath its branches. Countless generations of forest creatures had lived and died high in its canopy.
It had seen sunshine and rain, peacetime and dreadful war. It had witnessed good times and bad, famine and prosperity. It had survived the hottest of suns, the harshest of winters and the most furious of gales.
Centuries of memories lay embedded within its massive trunk. Rock, bone, metal.
The earth shook and the tree wept chlorophyll tears as the bulldozers drew closer.
Progress
Here is my story for Adam Ickes’ “Storybook Corner“. This month I am literally down to the final few hours before the deadline! Maybe one month I will get this sorted out a bit earlier.
The idea is to write 300-500 words to a photo prompt. To read the other entries, click Bracken, the little froggy. Coincidentally, this month’s (well May’s) prompt is also of a frog.
(After a bit of Googling I’m adding this disclaimer: all company names used in this story are entirely fictitious and any similarity to actual company names is entirely coincidental.)
That wasn’t the prompt picture, that was the logo. The prompt picture is below.
Hoppy jumped up to the brow of the hill to look around.
(Frogs don’t have names as humans understand them, they refer to each other based on description. “Hoppy” is more succinct than “He Who Is Mostly Green With A Little Brown And Lives Next To The Second Lily Pad On The Left”.)
The noise was coming from a series of – Hoppy could hardly believe his buggy little eyes – monsters! Huge beasts of destruction! Great gouts of smoke blew from blow holes, great mashing jaws destroyed everything in sight. Trees exploded into splinters. Small hillocks disintegrated.
They were moving fast, and moving directly towards him!
Hoppy jumped away as fast as he could, his little back legs propelling him high into the air.
Glancing back, he could see the monsters, gaining on him. His little heart pounded faster and faster as he fled. All around him other creatures, some of them his friends, ran past, terror in their eyes. From behind Hoppy heard a voice – “Wait up! Wait for me!” It sounds like “He Who Is Green With A Bit Of Orange And Talks Too Much But Is Generally A Nice Enough Fellow”, thought Hoppy.
The cries suddenly cut off. Hoppy didn’t want to stop and look – he knew the monsters had caught up to his friend. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he raced on with renewed energy.
He knew the monsters were gaining.
Just up ahead he could see a large structure. It was made of the same stuff as trees, but a different colour, and stretched to left and right as far as he could see. If he could only reach it, and slip underneath, surely he would find safety!
The fence (as humans call it) was close, but the monsters were closer, and gaining. Hoppy bounded as fast as he could, but the dreadful maw of one of the monsters caught his back leg and flung him through the air.
His lifeless little body splattered across a sign which proudly proclaimed:
“Coming soon – Woodland Pines! Two hundred environmentally friendly homes for the eco-conscious. 20% already sold. Phone now for details! [Eco-Homes Ltd: protecting the ecosystem so you don’t have to]”
Built To Last
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers! This week our lovely hostess Rochelle is taking a break so the prompt is from long ago – long before my time at Friday Fictioneers as well.
The photo has apparently defied all attempts at enlargement, but appears to be of a house under construction or renovation, and was contributed by Mary Shipman. I managed to resist my first urge, which was to have a body discovered in the wall.
To read all the other stories this week, click on Bracken, the little blue frog.
Copyright Mary Shipman
Work at the construction site was in full swing. Carpenters, plumbers, electricians – all scurried around with planks, pipes and wires.
“Two inch planks here, Frank.” The contractor pointed at a doorway.
“That’s not really up to code…”
“I’m not made of money!” joked the contractor.
“Uh, boss?” asked the plumber. “There’s some mistake, this pipe is lead-lined…”
“Got a great deal on that pipe!” laughed the contractor.
“Ten gauge wire into this fuse box,” the contractor told the electrician.
“Twelve, boss, surely?”
“Ten, Mark.”
The contractor was pleased. The new children’s home would be completed on time, and well under budget.
Blurred Reality
Here is my Friday Fictioneers submission for this week, hosted as always by the talented Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Ted Strutz, to which we need to write a story of roughly 100 words.
This week’s photo appears to feature some dentistry tools. Sorry to be a bit obvious in my story, but I’m not passing this one up.
To read this week’s other submissions, click on the little blue froggy (whose name is Bracken).
Copyright Ted Strutz
The whirring of the drill rang in Simon’s ears as The Dentist’s leering face loomed before his eyes.
“Pain!” laughed The Dentist, chief “agony technician” of the Vekta Crew. “You shall feel… such pain!” Simon closed his eyes in terror and felt…
… someone shaking his shoulder.
“Wake up, honey! You’re having a bad dream!”
Simon opened his eyes to see his wife looking down at him.
“That was a bad one!” he smiled.
His wife’s eyes grew cold. “Or is this the dream?” she snarled, her face morphing into that of The Dentist.
Simon screamed as the drill bore down into the sensitive pulp of his tooth.
Memories
It’s that time of the week again! What time of the week, I hear you ask? Friday Fictioneers time!
Hosted as always by the talented Rochelle, 100 plus people from around the globe write a story of roughly 100 words in response to a photo, supplied this week by Douglas M. MacIlroy.
To read this week’s other stories, click on Bracken, the little blue froggy.
Copyright Douglas M. MacIlroy
“What a beautiful day it was today!” exclaimed Samuel.
“What was that, dear?” asked his wife. She smiled to see him relaxing in his den, cosy slippers warming his feet.
“Sitting by the water, watching the boats. We should go out on one of those boats tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow?” Sheila’s face fell. “Oh, Samuel. That was so long ago.”
“What? Nonsense! Who… who are you?”
Sheila turned away sadly, leaving her husband staring at the picture – a memento of their honeymoon. Maybe tomorrow he’d remember where he was. Who she was. For now, she left him lost in their past.
Ashes to Ashes
It’s Friday today and that means it’s Friday Fictioneers time! As I write this there are already nearly 100 stories of roughly 100 words each up on the link page, can you believe? I was going to post my story yesterday, but I just got a PlayStation 4 so I’ve been a bit distracted 🙂
This week’s photo has been contributed by Friday Fictioneerer Jennifer Pendergast and the whole challenge is ably hosted as always by Rochelle. To read the other stories for this week, click on Bracken (the little blue froggy).
Copyright Jennifer Pendergast
Randolph raced through the shade towards the welcoming light beyond the archway. Three months he’d been a captive. Abused, mistreated. His neck hurt; he rubbed the wounds as he ran.
And the hunger! They’d given him a sickly red liquid to drink, but always the hunger returned.
What had they done to him?
He burst into the sunlight, his shout of triumph becoming a scream as his skin blistered. His pursuers stopped short of the archway, staying in the shade. Flames consumed his body and his view of freedom disappeared as his eyeballs liquefied.
His ashes blew across the field on the summer breeze, free at last.
Get Orf Moi Laaand!
It’s fake Friday and therefore time for Friday Fictioneers! This week’s photo, to which we are challenged to write roughly 100 words, has been contributed by Erin Leary and the whole shebang is hosted as always by the talented Rochelle.
The story I wrote for this week was nearly 200 words even once edited so I’ve done an altered cut-down version. I’ll keep the original and maybe post it some other time. No depth to this one, just a bit of silliness 🙂 .
To read others’ contributions, click on Bracken (the little blue froggy).
Copyright Erin Leary
“Don’t even think about it,” warned the farmer as he saw Bobby eying the fence. “That land belongs to Mad Frank.”
Bobby laughed and leapt over. “Hey, the grass really is greener over here!”
The farmer shook his head sadly.
A hillock opened, a device shot up and there was a loud roar. Bobby’s head exploded, spraying gore in all directions. As his lifeless body toppled over, a second hillock opened and a loudspeaker appeared.
“Get orf moi laaand!” it roared. “You have ten seconds to comply!”
“Classy. Missile first, then the warning,” mused the farmer, wiping brain matter from his face. “Real nutter, that Mad Frank.”
Six on the Sixth – May
It’s not the sixth, but this challenge is open all month! Yay!
Adam Ickes provides six prompt words and the goal is to write little six word “stories”. We don’t need to use all the prompt words.
I’ve actually done two this month because in the first one I’ve stretched the rules to breaking point. I’ve used the six words but not in six sentences as such. However, I’ve broken it into six lines of six words each. My second offering is more in keeping with the rules, I think.
To read other people’s submissions, click on Bracken (the little blue froggy). I named him during Friday Fictioneers yesterday and I’m hoping it will catch on, as little blue froggy works so hard to link up our stories and he deserves a name.
The six prompt words Adam has suggested for this month are:
rainbow
flask
war
tiny
insane
pink
Denial
Rainbows danced crazily through his head.
He drank deeply from his flask,
fuelling the war raging within him.
A tiny part of him asked
Am I going insane? The answer,
“Course not, I’m in the pink!”
Okay, the last line was a bit rubbish, but what am I supposed to do with “pink”?
Rainbow
Beautiful bands of crazily coruscating colour.
Flask
Chicken soup, still warm, sustained him.
War
Tinker tailor soldier sailor. All dead.
Tiny
Man mountain. Friends called him Tiny.
Insane
Wibble wibble hatstand flying cows ptang!
Pink
Noooo! My best shirt! Laundry accident.
Counting Sheep
It may not be Friday, but it’s certainly time for Friday Fictioneers! Hosted every week by the talented Rochelle, a whole host of people write a roughly 100 word story in response to a photo, which this week has been contributed by fellow Fictioneerer Sandra Crook.
To read the other stories for this week click on the little blue froggy, whom I have named “Bracken”.
Copyright Sandra Crook
“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!”
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