A Bungled Camp-Out
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields.
I don’t know if you remember my completely fictional characters Rocheel and Dail and their Disappointing Day Out? Well, they’re back and joined by the equally fictional “Jon”! This week they’ve decided to go camping in the back garden…
To read the other stories, click on the froggy.

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields
âAargh! Dail! Help!â
âWhat are you doing, Rocheel? Is that you under the tent?â
âIt fell on me.â
âThe instructions clearly say âinsert section iii of pole B into flange A of tent flap 3, while gently tugging guide rope 7câ.â
âCLEARLY?â
âFair enough. So, the barbecue…. hmm, nothingâs happening, maybe a bit more lighter fluidâŚâ
WHOOMP!
âAargh, my eyebrows, my eyebrows are gone, gone forever!â
âWell, Dail, who are we gong to blame for this debacle?â
As one, they turned to look toward the house…
âGood idea. Jon, oh Jon, could you come out here a moment pleaseâŚ?â
FF – False Assumption
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Randy Mazie.
This is a photo from December 2013 and I actually remembered it! I was going to just repost that story, but I wrote a new one so here’s a link to the old one instead. As a sort of drali-bonus. You’re welcome.
For all the stories, click on the froggy.

Copyright Randy Mazie
âNo, we shouldnât go in there!â Jeff was adamant.
âHa, come on. âNO TRESSRASSINGâ? What does that even mean?!â
âItâs obvious. Come on, letâs go.â
âChicken!â laughed Mike, already working at the boards on one of the windows. It creaked and splintered. âLast one inâs a rotten egg!â
Jeff peered through the window as Mike cavorted around the abandoned building.
âNO TRESPASSING!â boomed a voice. An axe swung. At first Jeff thought it had missed, then, almost in slow-motion, Mikeâs head rolled from his body.
Jeff ran.
Just because you canât spell, doesnât mean youâre not a psychotic axe-wielding maniac.
FF – Looking the Other Way
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Ted Strutz.
For the other stories, click on the little stylised froggy.

Copyright Ted Strutz
âDid it go okay?â
âWhat?â
âThe bomb. Planting the bomb in the seaplane.â
âWhat? This bomb?â
âI told you. To plant the bomb. In the PLANE!â
âOops.â
âSo. The Jackalâs drug shipment gets away from us again. Get out of my sight, you MORON!â
Agent Johnson walked away, full of insincere apologies. He disliked playing the incompetent fool, but he lived in a huge house, his kids were in expensive schools, his wife dripped diamonds.
The Jackal was very generous to those willing to go that extra mile. This should be worth at least a new swimming poolâŚ
FF – Think it Through
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Sandra Crook.
Click on the froggy for all the stories.

Copyright Sandra Crook
âItâll be amazing, my love! We shall live as in Steam Age times! We shall eschew modern technology and replicate a simpler time!â
… Christ… âI donât know. I rather like my home digital assistantâŚâ ⌠last week it was âopen a meditation retreatââŚ
âSteam trains, washing in the stream, clean air, making our own entertainmentâŚâ
The train went past. They began to hack and cough, smoke filling their lungs.
âAs I was saying, my love⌠dirty transport, bubonic plague, no antibiotics, filthy smoky air, boring evenings with no Netflix⌠we should respect the status quoâŚâ
âI think that would be best, dear.â ⌠idiotâŚ
FF – See No Evil
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Roger Bultot.
For the other stories, click on the froggy!

I’m off to the cinema this evening to see Spiderman, hence the early posting of my story. I thought I’d use some of my lunch break to write this, rather than rush this evening đ

Copyright Roger Bultot
See no evil.
That was the central tenet. Nobody wanted to know. Nobody cared. It was the law. THEY enforced it.
When Samuel saw thugs beating up a boy, he couldnât look the other way.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldnât. But he did it anyway. He shouted at them.
They abandoned their attack and fled.
Maybe he would be lucky? Maybe THEY hadnât noticed?
A creaking disabused him. The hands on the Watcher opened. It looked at him.
He headed home. Maybe he would have time to say goodbye to his wife before THEY came for him.













