Buster Must Die!
This is my contribution for Evil Squirrel’s Third Annual Contest of Whatever.
Despite the fact that I can’t draw, I’ve entered a story in pictures! The only rule this year is that we must include Buster, and Buster Must Die! You can’t tell from my pictures, but Buster is a possum, who dies on a regular basis so this is nothing new for the poor chap. In fact, having to keep him alive would have been a bigger challenge.
If you’d like to see what Buster really looks like by someone who can draw, click here.









FF – Imagination
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Today’s photo was contributed by FF regular Sandra Crook.
You can read this week’s other stories by clicking on the blue froggy.

Copyright Sandra Crook
“Check this out! It’s really a time machine.”
“No way!”
“Yes way! See the hourglasses? What time is it now?”
“Um… big hand’s on the… um… twenty-five past three.”
“I’m going to spin the central bit, round and round and…”
“Oy! You kids! What’re you doing to ‘The Sands of Time’? Clear off!”
“Run!”
“Phew, that was close. Did it work?”
“What time is it now?”
“Um… twenty-six past three. Wow, we’ve travelled forward a whole minute!”
“Told ya! Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yeah! What shall we do now?”
“See that spiky thing over there? It’s really a spaceship.”
“No way!”
FFfAW – Punishment
Here is my story for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, hosted by Priceless Joy. It has a similar theme to a Friday Fictioneers story I wrote a couple of weeks ago, sorry about that.
Click on the blue froggy to see this week’s other stories.

Copyright Ady
Simon Watson yelled as he went sailing across the playground to land in an unceremonious heap on the hard ground, his books scattered around him. Billy Masters’ growl of delight was cut off by an angry adult voice.
“Billy Masters! Stop right there! What have you been told about fighting? Go and sit on the red bench. Well? Go on!”
Billy went and sat on the red bench. The “punishment” bench. He was used to it. He ended up here most break-times. Finally the bell for classes went – freedom!
Simon worked hard, made the most of his education. Billy went from detention to young offenders to…
“The court will rise.”
“Mr Masters, for this crime, there can be only one punishment. You will spend the rest of your life in prison. Take him down.”
Judge Simon Watson shook his head sadly as Billy was led past. “Back on the red bench, Billy. This time it’s for good. No bell this time. Sorry.”
FF – This Land (is) Mine
Here is my story for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted as always by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by The Reclining Gentleman.
The photo is quite a lovely scene, therefore my story will not be bwahaha :-).
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright The Reclining Gentleman
Albert finished planting the last flower and stood up gingerly, his old bones making the task a chore. He shook his head angrily.
Thirty-seven years he’d worked this allotment, his little patch of England. Now it was destined for pointless “luxury housing”, but who was going to listen to a sickly old man, even one who’d fought for King and Country in Belgium and France?
He tottered away as quickly as he could. He could hear the bulldozers approaching and wanted to be far away when they encountered his war “mementos”, carefully buried and primed under the flower bed.
FFftPP – Oh Deer
Here is my (very short!) story for Roger’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. The optional opening sentence is “Are you lookin’ at me?”, and you can read all the other stories by clicking on the blue froggy. The image is from the public domain archive.

Image public domain
Are you lookin’ at me?
“What did you say?”
“Eh? Nothing.”
Or chewin’ a brick?
“What was that?”
“Huh? I didn’t say anything…”
Either way you’ll lose your teeth.
“Right, that’s it! Take that!”
BOP!
“Ow! By dose. You broke by dose!”
Heh heh. Who said being shot, decapitated and mounted on a wall wasn’t going to be any fun. Ah, here comes another pair of likely victims.
“Oh look, what a darling room! All these old things.”
“Yes, it is rather snug.”
Are you lookin’ at me…?
FF – Sinking
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Erin Leary. To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
I shot wildly over the word limit this week, I hope it still reads okay now that I’ve cut it all back to sub-100 :-).

Copyright Erin Leary
Tears of grief stung his eyes as he traversed the swamp. Though a virtually featureless expanse of water and plant-life, he found the spot easily.
This is where he dumped them, watched them sink slowly into the mire – his wife, always so critical, so exhausting; his daughter, always Mummy’s girl.
No longer able to bear the guilt, he stood in that spot, sinking, drowning, until darkness overcame him.
Almost immediately he opened his eyes, blinking. Is this Heaven, he thought? The extreme heat, strong smell of sulphur and the pitchfork poking him in the ribs said otherwise.















