Life’s a Stage
Here’s a cynical look at humanity to thrill and depress you for this week’s Mondays Finish the Story, a weekly 150 word photo/opening sentence challenge hosted by Barbara Beacham. The opening sentence, in bold in my story, doesn’t count towards our word count.
Click on the blue froggy to read this week’s other stories.
When the team heard the dam explode, they knew they had limited time to make it to safety.
Barry glanced behind at the raging wall of water as they desperately tried to steer towards the shore. He saw figures on the river bank.
“Help!” he screamed.
The figures were holding up phones. Were they calling for help? He could hear snatches of their excited shouts.
“Awesome… stats through the roof… YouTube sensation…”
A wave struck and he fell from the boat, smashing his head on a rock. Nigel was next, flying into the torrent, water filling his lungs.
There were more figures on the bank now, all holding up phones. Sebastian was thrown from the front of the boat, impaled and twitching on a tree branch.
Whoops of excitement issued from the bank. Finally the boat capsized to cries of “awesome!” and “mega!”
The onlookers didn’t see the final wall of water as it smashed their bodies to pulp. Fortunately, their final footage was already uploading to the cloud for the guilty pleasure of the masses.
Sharing My World 2015 Week 11
It’s time for Share Your World again, hosted by Cee.
List 2 things you have to be happy about?
Oh goodness, I’m not so good with this sort of question. A good job in a great company, and living in a country where I don’t have to worry about very much at all compared to some.
Do you prefer ketchup or mustard or mayonnaise?
Yes. Also Tabasco, Worcester sauce, horseradish sauce, mint sauce etc etc. The way I “cook”, it’s usually best not to be able to taste the food.
This is all I have in at the moment. I hope it will do.
If you were to paint a picture of your childhood, what colours would you use?
Golly gosh! I don’t know. I had a happy childhood so something bright, I suppose. Yellow, maybe.
Do you prefer a bath or shower?
A shower. Leaving alone the fact that after a bath I feel all sweaty and in need of a shower, baths are too expensive. I had an ex once whom I allowed to stay on in the place I was renting while she finished her finals at university (big mistake but that’s another story). She switched from showers to baths and tripled my water bill. Tripled!
Here’s a bonus for this week. I entered and won Evil Squirrel’s Second Annual Contest of Whatever, and here is what I got for my prize – a cool t-shirt direct from ES’s CafePress shop. This is also my very first selfie :-). And here’s a shameless link drop to my winning entry.
I tried one using the mirror and then I had a go by aiming the camera at myself and using the mirror to see what I was pointing the phone at.
Memories of a Breaking World
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, the weekly 100-ish word flash fiction photo challenge hosted by Rochelle. This week the photo was contributed by Rachel Bjerke. I’d love to know where this is, it looks lovely!
I’m not sure what genre to place my story in. I’ll go for “boring” as nothing actually happens. I’m sure there’s a proper literary word for it. I chose a rather pretentious title to spruce it up a bit, though :-).
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Rachel Bjerke
Gronedd gazed around the ruins, admiring the damp moss glistening as the sun reflected from early morning dew. At the sight, memories from centuries past rose in his mind.
Gwyneth having her first child. Haffard placing logs on the huge fire. Dafvidd taking his first, faltering steps. Such memories this place brought him; though he had seen billions of years these had been his happiest.
Bound as an Observer to this world since its birth, Gronedd would remain until its end. Seeing wars, disease, hunger, pollution, all around him… he knew his final sleep at last approached. He would spend his final days here.
Rule Britannia – MFTS
This is my contribution to this week’s Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham.
Something about this photo of a big house away from the general populace combined with the word “Brigadier” made me think of that proud 19th Century British tradition of believing that the whole world should belong to Britain and that everyone else was somehow “in the way”.
The supplied sentence is in bold in my story and you can read this week’s other contributions by clicking on the blue froggy.
A body suddenly crashed through a plate glass window at the Brigadier’s house.
“I say,” exclaimed the Brigadier. “This won’t do at all!”
“Frightfully sorry about that, Sir,” said the Lieutenant calmly as he took a sip of Port and shot the interloper in the head.
“Oh, Lieutenant!” said the Brigadier indignantly, looking at the brains leaking onto the carpet. “My favourite throw rug!”
“My apologies, Brigadier,” continued the Lieutenant, swiftly dispatching two more attackers.
“What-ho! Watch the wallpaper! I had it shipped in ‘specially from Messers Smythe and Clarke of Dinkledum Street, you know.”
Before the Lieutenant had a chance to respond, one of the attacking natives pierced his heart with a long knife.
“I don’t understand,” barked the Brigadier as natives closed on him, knives gleaming. “We’ve brought you education, technology… all we ask is that you follow our rules!”
While the Brigadier’s soldiers, fighting for pay, cowered behind the furniture, the natives, fighting for their home, ignored the bullets and reclaimed their land.
Sharing My World 2015 Week 10
It’s time again to Share My World, part of Share Your World hosted by talented photographer Cee over at her photography site.
When you lose electricity in a storm, do you light the candles or turn on the flashlight? How many of each do you own?
The last time we lost electricity in a storm was around 30-40 years ago I think. However, now that I live in a small village, I guess there is more chance of it.
I like candles but don’t currently have any. They got chucked when I moved house. I have plenty of torches, though, secreted in strategic locations. One in my work bag, one in my car, one in the kitchen drawer and one in my bedside table. And they all work!
You are given $5,000 and the chance to exchange it for one of two envelopes. One envelope contains $50,000 and one contains $500. Do you make the trade? Why or why not?
I just did the conversion, and while $5000 sounds like a lot, it’s actually less than £3400. However, I reckon I’d still keep it. I’m not much of a gambler and “a bird in the hand” and so on. 50/50 isn’t great odds. That much money is immediately 2 months grace in case I suddenly can’t work but still need to pay my mortgage and so on.
On the other hand, with a ton of cash I could take advantage of this amazing offer that came through the post the other day.
One of only 100 people! Limited issue! Platinum! This is too good to pass up, surely. Then I turned it over and saw this.
Um, exsqueeze me? How much now? They’re obviously mistaking me for that Mr Draliman who lives down the road who’s so rich his kids’ bunny rabbits sleep on a bed made out of shredded £50 notes.
Looking at the amount of money I currently save each month, it would take me infinity months to save up this much. Because that’s what you get when divide £12,500 by zero. Infinity.
What’s your first memory?
Memories can be funny things. Did they really happen? Have they been distorted over time?
I do remember one time when my brother had his birthday read out on “Gus Honeybun’s Magic Birthdays” on the TV. It was at the house in Carnon Downs, so I was five maximum.
Gus was the station mascot for the now defunct “Westward Television” and then the similarly defunct “Television South West”.
Image from YouTube
What do you do if you can’t sleep at night? Do you count sheep, toss and turn, or get up and try to do something?
Sorry to give the same answer as everybody else, but I read. I never, ever go to sleep without reading first, no matter how late it is.
See you all next week!
New Dawn
It time for Friday Fictioneers, the 100-ish word photo prompt flash fiction challenge thing hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by long-serving Fictioneerer Sandra Crook.
It’s a great photo – I’d quite like to be there in person – but weirdly my story this week is rather, well, depressing 😦
Warning – this blog has suffered a (temporary) humour-ectomy!
To read the other stories, click on the little blue froggy.
Copyright Sandra Crook
Julio sat and stared numbly at the vodka and pills. How had it come to this? He didn’t even really care any more. He felt empty inside, like a frost had worked its way into his soul.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to die. He was sure he no longer wanted to live like this – if one could call this living. He flipped the top off the pill bottle.
Through the window the rising sun illuminated the trees in shades of gold, and seeing it he felt a tiny glimmer of warmth deep inside.
Hope?
Dropping the bottle, he reached for the phone.
Major Demotion – MFtS
It’s Monday, and there’s a story which needs finishing. Yes, it’s Mondays Finish the Story! This is a 150 word flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara Beacham where we get a photo and a starting sentence (which doesn’t count towards the word count).
The supplied sentence is in bold in my story, and don’t forget to click on the blue froggy to read the other stories.
On March 9th, 2015, three objects were reportedly seen in the skies over the Borracho Todos los Tiempos Vineyards.
Major Dickens couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Corporal, any radar contacts?”
“No, Sir!”
Nothing on radar, but visible through his binoculars. Aliens! Aliens were invading Earth, and on his watch! He reached for the radio.
“General, three inbound bogies, alien origin!”
“Major, are you sure? You have been to the therapist regarding your alien fixation, yes?”
“Absolutely sure this time, Sir!” replied Dickens. Around him troops were staring at the sky, shrugging and shaking their heads.
“Right,” said the General. “I’ve contacted the President and mobilised our forces.”
“Yessir!” replied Dickens. He looked again. There they were, hanging above the distant trees.
The corporal, shaking his head, wiped the water from the Major’s binoculars with his sleeve.
“Ah, General…”
“Yessssss?”
“False alarm, sir! Rain on the binoculars, Sir!”
“Right, Captain, I’ll call the President back, shall I?”
“Um, it’s ‘Major’, Sir…”
“This isn’t good enough, Lieutenant,” continued the General. “Don’t let it happen again. Carry on, Sergeant.”
Sydney and the Devil – Storybook Corner
Here is my submission for February/March Storybook Corner, a 100-250 word monthly photo prompt hosted by Adam Ickes. This month we have a photo of an arid landscape and, I think, some water.
Here’s the logo:
Here’s the prompt picture:
And here’s my story, “Sydney and the Devil“.
Sydney lay on his back, the burning sun slowly roasting his helpless body. His skin felt like a hardened burning sheath, his fevered mind picturing it crisping like the skin of a well-roasted turkey.
How had this happened? He thought he’d taken every precaution, yet here he was, barely able to move, the water leached out of his body to the point that even his thoughts had become scrambled. Where was he? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was the blinding light, visible even through closed eyes, the pounding in his head, the scorching pain of his skin.
It was almost funny. He’d always liked a nice bit of sun. In his delirium he tried to giggle, but only a rasping groan escaped his parched throat, prompting a spasm which took almost a minute to subside (he thought, though all sense of time evaded him).
Suddenly, looming over him was the face of a monstrosity, a face at once both strange and familiar. Its gaping maw opened.
“SYDNEY!”
The Devil! The Great Deceiver had come for him! Surely his life had not been led so badly? He tried to rise in supplication, to pray for salvation, but his damaged body betrayed him and he succeeded only in falling off his sun lounger.
“SYDNEY!” came the voice again. “If you’ve got sun stroke again, I swear you’ll never have another beach holiday as long as you live, you…”
The voice faded away as Sydney’s brain mercifully shut down in self-defence.
Sharing My World 2015 Week 9
It’s time to answer Cee’s Share Your World challenge again! Let’s jump straight in (after the logo).
How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
I often feel like I haven’t grown older at all. Time just passes. Then my shoulder starts to ache and I have trouble reaching back for the seat belt.
I’ve even started walking with a slight stoop. Unless there’s a pretty girl coming towards me, in which case my posture suddenly straightens and my stomach magically gets pulled in. Weird.
I’m going to go with “late 30s”.
Are you left or right handed?
I’m right handed. I can virtually do nothing which involves precision with my left hand. I’ve often thought I’m lucky cars in the UK have the steering wheel on the right so I can change gear with my left hand. I don’t like taking my right hand off the steering wheel under any circumstances.
If you HAD to change your name, what would you change it to?
Wow, I have to change my name! What did I see? What did I SEE?
Was I peering through a crack in the toilet cubicle door when Marty “The Muscles” Mulligan, mob enforcer, gunned down Larry “The Fingers” Flannigan, mob accountant? Was it because Larry was skimming off the top? Was it? Is that what I saw?
Did I bravely come forward and pick Mulligan out of a line up? Is that what I did? Am I now staying in a hotel awaiting the trial? Am I being guarded by two grizzled street cops who are angry because they have to babysit me? Is that why they keep snarling at me? Is it?
After the trial, will I end up in Witness Protection? Will I be working on a construction site and living in a little house with a white picket fence in an out-of-the-way town somewhere? Will I be married to a WitSec-approved wife called Sarah? Is that what’s going to happen? Is it?
So here are my name choices when I’m in Witness Protection.
- Hank Stud
- Darius Pylon
- Drax Pumpkin
- Simon Pasty
- Crispin Tragicpanties III
Where do you hide junk when people come over?
I don’t have junk, I have treasures, and they’re proudly on display! The mess of paperwork I have to sort out, I’d pop in my bedroom out of the way.
So which name should I choose for my new life? Do you see me as Hank Stud or Crispin Tragicpanties III? What should I call the WitSec-approved kids I’m going to have with Sarah? Should I booby-trap the front garden in case the mob finds me?
Invasion of the QzzQargs!
It’s Friday Fictioneers time, the weekly 100 word photo prompt writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Erin Leary.
To read this week’s other stories or to contribute your own, click on the blue frog.
Copyright Erin Leary
The two Space Troopers peered down the Great Wooden Cliff of Trevellis Prime at the QzzQarg flying saucer invasion fleet far below.
“Target lock, fire one!” announced the first. The Great Ball of Destruction hurtled downwards, smashing into three of the saucers. Pieces flew everywhere.
The Troopers celebrated.
Another moment and the final two saucers disintegrated.
“Boys…” came a voice.
“Message from the Commander!” said the second Trooper.
“… stop playing with your football and come inside! Dinner’s ready. And bring some of those mushrooms next to the fence, they’ll make a nice garnish.”
The Troopers looked down at the devastation.
“Oh, crap.”
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