Friday Fictioneers – The Weight of the World
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100 word photo prompt hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Ted Strutz, and you can read the other stories by clicking on the blue froggy.
I decided not to take such a literal view of the photo this week. If it doesn’t make sense, hopefully my tags will help.
Shuddering, he closed his eyes. How could he make this decision? He couldn’t think.
But the People relied on him. They had elected him to make the Big Decisions. His thoughts whirled, spinning, too fast to grasp. He hoped that at any moment the ride might stop and he could get off, but it only span faster.
At last he took a breath and opened his eyes. Before him stood his Chief of Staff and senior General, standing six feet apart, hands on the console. He nodded solemnly. “The word is given. God forgive us.”
As one they turned the keys.
MFTS – Prince Brian
Here is my story for Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. The photo was also taken by Barbara, and the supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story. On top of that we get roughly 150 words to finish the story!
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Few knew about the castle hidden inside the island.
Prince Brian, Lord of the Island Isles, Protector of the Weak, preferred it that way. But now he crouched, hidden within the castle, listening intently.
There it was again!
A faint voice, distant but getting closer. His arch-nemesis, Grayvon. She’d found him! He huddled deeper into the corner of his castle, fear creeping through his body. This was it. This was the end.
“Brian!” screamed the voice.
Grayvon was approaching! Brian, brave and strong though he may be, was no match for her. He closed his eyes and waited for the end. Suddenly he was bathed in light as the castle roof was ripped off! He gritted his teeth.
“Brian!” snapped Grayvon. “I’ve been shouting for hours! Your dinner’s ready. And when you’re done, put all these cushions and blankets back where you found them, please.”
“Yes, Mum,” muttered Prince Brian, Lord of the Island Isles, Protector of the Weak, as he shuffled off to wash his hands.
Daily Post Photo Challenge – Boundaries
This week’s Daily Post Photo Challenge is all about boundaries – of any description.
The path is clearly marked. Do not cross this boundary! (Godrevy, Cornwall.)
The boundary between Earth and the infinite beyond. (Out the front of my house, Cornwall.)
Safety and… well, falling off a cliff :-(. (St Michael’s Mount, Cornwall.)
Trees Behind My House
Here are some trees behind my house, taken from my dinky back garden earlier this evening. But the photo looked too sharp. What to do?
I found a “soften” button on “old faithful” (Jasc Paint Shop Pro 8) so I set it to 10% and there was another setting as well (“edge importance” or some such which I also fiddled with) so I clicked it and it all went blurry. Then I found a “sharpen” button so I clicked that as well to stop it being so blurry! I don’t know what I’m doing :-).
Friday Fictioneers – Her Broken Heart
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s picture was contributed by Marie Gail Stratford.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Sitting slumped at the desk, she looked across at the easy chairs. The one on the left had been his. Empty now. Empty as her broken heart.
He was gone. Gone forever. Her love, her life, her everything.
Wiping a tear from her eye, she grabbed the mouse – his silly, ziggy-zaggy, beautiful mouse (that thought brought a lump to her throat) – and began searching. Chainsaw hire, mini-diggers, concreting and patio services…
If her wonderful, beautiful, perfect Barry and slutty Sally from Accounts Payable enjoyed each other so much, they could bloody well spend eternity in the same hole.
MFTS – The Unexpected House
Here is my story for Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. We get a photo and an opening sentence, which is in bold in my story. To read all the other contributions, click on the blue froggy.
I’m not sure what my story is supposed to be. Horror? Comedy? Comedy horror? It made me laugh :-).
The A&B Building was made entirely from driftwood. But no-one in the sleepy town of Little Stickle would ever know the hideous truth. The sudden appearance of the building one morning had been quite a surprise!
The residents were cautiously excited.
The construction crew had horrible, blood-spattered flashbacks.
The police were baffled.
Also in the news that morning was the strange disappearance of a visiting 100-piece Country and Western ensemble. The townsfolk loved their Country and Western, and almost all had turned up to listen. What a disappointment they were!
The residents had booed.
The construction crew had thrown bottles and gotten terribly, terribly drunk.
The police had shaken their heads.
In the morning, there the new house was.
The residents wondered why it smelled faintly of dead animal.
The construction crew wondered what the sticky red substance on their tools was.
The police wondered what had happened to the rubbish Country and Western band “Driftwood”.
Literary Lion – After The Fall
Here is my post for Laura’s fortnightly “Literary Lion” challenge. We get 400 words to write a story relating to a prompt word, which this fortnight is “fall“. Sorry there’s no photo :-(.
Dravik shook his head vigorously.
“No, Crannik! Don’t go out there, it’s dangerous!”
Crannik sighed. He’d heard the stories, told to naughty children right before bedtime. How a rebellious faction of Inlanders had been exiled beyond the Wall. How they were supposedly there still (or at least their descendants, Crannik supposed). All this had happened a long, long time ago, if it had happened at all, and personally Crannik had his doubts about that.
“The Fallen – doomed to life in the Beyond, to eke out a wretched existence, to die in misery for their crimes.” That was how the story, and Crannik was convinced it was just a story, ended. There was some evidence that The Fall was in fact real, but Crannik suspected it had been a minor uprising rather than the hideous deeds of a cannibalistic faction.
“Come on, Dravik,” he urged, “it’ll be fun! Think of the adventure!”
Dravik just shook his head and walked away. Crannik laughed and set out, reaching the boundary of Inland in good time. He’d found the hole in the Wall many weeks earlier and quickly slipped through, walking away from the familiar, deep into the Beyond.
He walked for hours and as darkness fell, he made camp. He huddled closer to the fire as unfamiliar sounds came from the forest around him. He was willing to admit, this was pretty creepy. A night bird, insects… a snapping twig… breathing? Crannik leaped up and ran, crashing through the undergrowth, sobbing with fear. He could clearly hear something following him, and now… in front of him! He slid to a halt as a shadowy figure appeared from behind a tree. He fell to the ground, breathless, shaking. The figure came closer, closer…
“Ha!” laughed Dravik. “So you don’t believe in The Fallen, huh? Certainly ran fast enough, didn’t you! I’ve been tracking you all day!”
“You little…” Crannik’s sigh of relief became a gasp of horror as he saw Dravik’s eyes widen in shock. His friend clutched at the metal-tipped shaft protruding from his chest, blood trickling from his mouth. He slumped to the ground.
“You damaged the meat, fool!” snapped a harsh voice from the darkness.
“Be silent!” barked another. “We’ll eat him first, and put the other in the larder!”
Crannik clawed himself to his feet and ran.















