Coming Home
Here’s my contribution to Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100-ish word flash fiction challenge hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle. This week she contributed the photo herself!
As usual I glanced at the photo at lunch time and then just let my brain work away and do its thing. Except it didn’t. Finally I managed to come up with a story of sorts, which you can find underneath the photo!
To read all the other contributions (more are added throughout the week), click on the little blue fellow below.
The military transport sliced through the frigid air, winging its way home.
Home. The word always conjured up images of friends, family, familiar surroundings. Images of lush, rolling hills. Images of… normality. Safety.
No more arid desert. No more violent, unseen death waiting around every corner, behind every hill. No more stomach-churning spicy foods or bland combat rations.
He wasn’t there for his son’s first day at “big school”. He had never seen his baby daughter. He had missed her first steps, her first words.
His family would be waiting for him at the airstrip, waiting to take his coffin… home.
Shopping Around the World July
I thought I’d join in with Bacon and Fozzie’s Shopping around the World feature this time around. The idea is post the costs of various items so that we can see how much things cost around the world!
Here’s the list. My prices come to you from Cornwall, South-West England.
Toilet Paper
I always buy Andrex Puppies on a Roll. It’s a bit more expensive but I don’t care. It absolutely has to be Puppies on a Roll. Because it’s cute. Even when I was saving up to buy a house I splurged on Puppies on a Roll. Why? Because it’s cute.
One time I couldn’t get Puppies on a Roll and I was most dismayed.
That’s a picture of a 4 pack but I always buy a 9 pack (sometimes you even get 3 rolls free!).
A 9 pack costs me £4.49 (€5.67, US$7.60).
Regular package of ground beef
Small problem here – what’s a “regular package”? Come to that, what exactly is “ground beef”? Minced beef I guess? I’m going to post the price of the stuff I buy – store-brand lean minced steak beef, 500g. That costs £4.00 (€5.06, US$6.77).
Store bought pizza
I always buy thin-crust pepperoni pizza (store brand). This costs £2.25 (€2.84, US$3.81) for one, but I always buy 2 for £4.00 (€5.06, US$6.77). They’re not the highest quality pizza, but I add cheese and plenty of Tabasco sauce on the top. Yum 🙂
Package of hot dogs
I haven’t bought these for years, but I located several examples for all sorts of prices. They don’t come in packages in this country, generally. Proper sausages (i.e. the Great British Banger!) come in packages, but hot dog sausages come in tins, usually in brine.
This is probably the sort of thing I would buy, were I to buy them, and this tin of 8 hot dog sausages would set you back a very reasonable £1.29 (€1.63 , US$2.18).
Tell you what’s really nice – hot dog sausage, slice along the sausage but not all the way through, fill with Marmite so it melts and stuff it in bread. Mmm! Bit messy, mind.
Package of bacon
Mmm, bacon. I buy store-brand back bacon, 8 rashers, unsmoked (300g) costing £2.55 (€3.22, US$4.31).
Mmm, bacon.
Sunday Stills – Looking Through Windows
Sunday Stills this week, hosted by Ed, is entitled “Lookin’ Through Windows”. We’re asked to post a photo looking out through a window but the frame has to be in the photo.
I decided to take a couple of pictures looking out through the windows of my little house.

Looking out my bedroom window, at the front of the house. It’s next door that’s for sale, not me! That’s the path I walk down on my way to the fish and chip van for my Friday tea.

Here’s a view of a little piece of my back garden, viewed through the bathroom window. That bit of fence with the honeysuckle (?) is the end of my tiny garden.

Half an hour later I arrived at work, first one in. Here’s a picture of my little Fiesta, all alone in the car park, taken through an office window.
Extinction
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, a weekly flash fiction challenge with a photo this week contributed by Marie Gail Stratford. As always, our 100 word fiction is overseen by Rochelle.
This week I drew inspiration from the rather witty words printed on the chopstick wrapper. To be honest, I have no idea what I’ve written, what genre it is or if it even makes much sense! Is it a damning indictment of Mankind? Maybe. Or maybe it’s a quirky story about cutlery. Quite how I got this out of a picture of a Chinese takeaway I don’t know.
To see this week’s other stories, click on the little blue fellow below.
A cleverly-aimed chopstick could take out an eye – the Chopstick People had decimated the Spoon People – but an expertly-wielded fork could disembowel. The Fork People easily subdued those of the Chopstick.
Before long the Fork People fell to followers of the Knife, who fell in their turn. Progress, proliferation. Power was everything, desired, required.
At last came People wielding such utensils as had never before been seen. They used them on the Spoon People, the Chopstick, the Fork and the Knife. Finally, when all other People were destroyed, they used them on each other.
For such is the way of People.
An Unfortunate Choice of Lunch
It’s Thursday and high time for my entry for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100-ish word flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle.
This week’s photo has been contributed by fellow Fictioneerer Adam Ickes. To read the other contributions, click on the frog below.
My contribution this week is a bit random. But so’s the photo.
“Hello?” came a voice. “I need the Browski file.” A head poked round the corner. “Whaaaa… you’re a… a… sheep!”
“Indeed!” smiled Kevin, Ram in Charge (records department). “Never fear. We love humans, us.”
“Absolutely love ‘em, yes,” echoed the goat at the next desk.
Kevin handed the file over.
“Um, thanks, um,” said the newcomer, leaving quickly.
“Lovely chap. I love humans, me,” said Kevin. “What’s for lunch today?”
“Me too, love humans!” The goat perused the menu. “It’s… oh shit, lamb chops.”
“Bastards!” snarled Kevin, grabbing his shotgun and pumping a shell into the chamber. “Death to the murdering human scum!”
“Human scum!” echoed the goat.
Underbelly
Here we are on Thursday with Friday Fictioneers, the prompt for which was posted on Wednesday. Confused? Never mind, because it’s story time, hosted as always by Rochelle.
The photo which prompts our 100-ish word story this week was contributed by Kelly Sands and features big clouds over houses. But are they clouds? ARE THEY? Or are they actually Something More Sinister (dum dum dummmm)? My story this week is a bit nuts, so bear with me.
The other stories this week can be found by clicking on Bracken, the little blue froggy, below.
Here’s the photo of the clouds. OR ARE THEY CLOUDS? etc etc.
It came from Outer Space. NASA had pictures and everything.
One evening in late May it had appeared over the sleepy hamlet of Little Frimpton. The residents took it in their stride, as country folk often do.
“What be that, Jed? Looks loike clouds. But not clouds.”
“That be the underbelly o’ one o’ them giant aliens, Jethro.”
“Oh. ‘Nother ale?”
In June it broke wind, hospitalising several members of the Little Frimpton Knitting Circle during a particularly complicated crochet demonstration. Gas masks were distributed to the villagers.
They could only hope that nothing more solid would follow. Though as one pragmatic farmer noted, “It would be good fer moi fields.”



















