draliman on life

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.”

Here is my story for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This week’s photo was contributed by Sonya from Only 100 Words.

To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Sonya

“There it is!” cried Maglatosh, rushing forward.

“Yes, yes, on the pavement next to that ugly yellow plant life,” replied Gringadesh. “We are so close, Maglatosh!”

Maglatosh bent over for a closer look. “These symbols on the cover, they must be the ancient glyphs of Gragnok, The Destroyer.”

“Indeed,” replied Gringadesh. “I’ve never seen them myself, but they must be, yes!”

The companions stared at each other for a moment, scarcely able to believe that after so many years they had finally found it. The key to the destruction of Earth.

Gringadesh bent down, levered the hatch open and peered inside. “Look! As prophesied, the Sacred Valve of Gragnok!”

“Turn it, turn it!” yelled Maglatosh. “The Earth shall die!”

Gringadesh turned the valve. From the other side of the wall, a frustrated voice called out.

“Miriam, my hose pipe’s stopped working! Did you turn off the water?”

“Hmm,” mused Gringadesh. “Maybe this isn’t the Sacred Valve of Gragnok after all.”

“I concur,” said Maglatosh. “Our search continues!”

Here’s my story for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, hosted by Priceless Joy. This week’s picture was provided by Louise from The Storyteller’s Abode.

To read this week’s other stories, click the blue froggy.

Copyright Lousie at The Storyteller’s Abode

“What… what… what’s going on? It’s yellow. It’s all… yellow! The chair, the walls, even you… I have to get out of here…”

“Mr Jenkins, please calm down…”

“Out here, the sky, yellow! The buildings, yellow! The beach… okay, the beach was always yellow. But the rest…”

“Mr Jenkins, please come back inside!”

“Never again to see the blue of the sky, the blue-green of the sea. All is tinged, spoiled, tainted… oh, woe is me, woe is me!”

“Mr Jenkins, please, you’re overreacting!”

“Easy for you to say, easy for you with your reds, your blues, your greens. My life is yellow now! Yellow, yellow, yellow…”

“As I’ve already explained, Mr Jenkins, you need the dye in your eyes so we can check for scratches to your cornea. It will wear off in a few minutes.”

“… yellow, yellow… huh? Oh, right, you did say that, didn’t you? Well, come on then, check for scratches. I haven’t got all day, I’m a busy man.”

Here is my story for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This week’s photo was contributed by Etol Bagam. Click on the blue frog for this week’s other stories.

Copyright Etol Bagam

“And here we have what was known as a ‘bar’. Please feel free to look around, and ask me any questions you wish.”

The crowd wandered around the little room, oohing and aahing.

“Excuse me, what was this strange table for?”

“We believe it was an educational tool. These balls probably represented planets, and helped patrons understand gravitational mechanics.”

The crowd oohed and aahed some more.

“What was in these bottles?”

“A good question! These held a flavoured mixture of toxic chemicals. They imbibed this mixture, would you believe?”

The crowd looked shocked.

“And these little plates held the burnt remains of a poisonous weed, smoked by the patrons.”

“My goodness,” said one of the crowd. “It’s no wonder they all died!”

“Indeed. After they blew their world apart, all our survey team found was this one little room, which we carefully transported across the galaxy to this museum. We can only thank Przzglub that these self-destructive hoomans never developed interstellar travel.”

The crowd nodded in agreement as they moved to the next exhibit.