draliman on life

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.

Copyright Kelly Sands

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.”