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Posts Tagged ‘flash fiction’

FF – Unethical Productions Ltd

February 21, 2018 55 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Marie Gail Stratford.

 

“The last flower on Earth. Already dying. That’s why we at Save The Beautiful But Endangered Bees rely on your donations… no! The planet relies on your donations to save our pollinators…”

“Cut!”

“What’s wrong?”

“There are living flowers in the shot. We need to…”

Bzz! Bzz!

“Eek! A bee! A bee!”

“I thought your charity loved…”

“Kill it before it stings me!” (Flail! Thwap! Stomp! Stalks away angrily.)

“Wow. Not a great advert for his charity. Tell me you got that on film.”

“Yup.”

“Great. It’ll be perfect for our other charity client, Kill The Nasty Noisy Vicious Bees.”

 

FF – Sudden Reversal

February 14, 2018 72 comments

 

[QUICK INFO!] – none of my comments are showing up on others’ blogs and my spam folder was full of others’ comments this morning. Check your spam folders 🙂

 

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale.

Copyright Dale Rogerson

 

The snow lay heavy on the ground. All was silent, sound muffled, like the whole world held its breath. Nearby a street lamp cast a warm, welcoming glow.

Josh smiled, lay down and waved his arms and legs around. He stood and admired his snow angel.

How beautiful. What a fantastic…

The world shook, then turned upside-down! Josh screamed as he was catapulted against the house opposite. It shook again until at last he lay breathless on the ground, both legs shattered. It began to snow.

Get miniaturised! they said. Have a peaceful holiday in a snow globe! they said.

Bollocks.

 

Pegman – Entrepreneur

February 12, 2018 25 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw. This week we are in Terni, Italy.

This was the birthplace of Saint Valentine, celebrated on February 14th. I chose a rather idyllic scene from the outskirts of the town. Let’s see how it all began!

Copyright Google

 

Valentinus looked over his lands and smiled. Life was good.

It had started out slow. He’d carried a love letter from a suitor to his sweetheart. Once others heard, his services were in demand.

Ever the entrepreneur, he’d monetised it. Charged people to take part. Hired a local artisan to build little boxes, each with two sections. If someone liked someone else they placed some papyrus with their name on in the corresponding person’s right-hand section. If the names matched in two right-hand sections, Valentinus would arrange a meeting (for a small extra fee, of course). The left-hand box and he’d let them down gently.

Easy peasy.

He called it “Tinderus”. It sounded catchy, he thought. He was providing an essential service. A service to love. (What a great strapline, he thought.)

He ought to be canonised after he died, he reckoned. “Saint Valentinus” had such a nice ring to it.

 

FF – Misplaced Sympathy

February 7, 2018 69 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by JS Brand.

Copyright JS Brand

 

Five scuba gear-clad heads appeared above the glassy ocean.

“There’s the target, lads. We can’t mess this up. Danny ‘Drug Man’ Davis is responsible for hundreds of deaths. Check your explosives.”

“Wait a sec. He’s staying there? What a dump!”

“Yeah, it looks like someone picked up a load of houses and stacked them on top of one another.”

“From high class casinos and Lamborghinis to this pathetic shambles?”

“How the mighty have fallen. Poor bastard.”

“He’s suffered enough. Do we abandon the mission?”

“Nope.”

“Is he even in there?”

“Who cares? That shameful excuse for a hotel’s gotta go.”

 

FF – Something Stirred

January 31, 2018 86 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. She also provided the photo.

I was completely stumped (hahaha, that’s the only funny you get this week from me) by this photo. So I bashed something out late in the day.

 

Danny looked around him. Everywhere he looked the forest had been transformed into a barren field. He lay down his chainsaw and opened his rucksack. Pulling out his water bottle, he took a long draw and sighed contentedly.

They said we had to preserve the trees. They said they were a valuable habitat. They said they converted ‘cardom diproxide’ to air, or something. He didn’t really listen and didn’t care.

Sometimes he thought, when he cut into a tree, he could hear it scream. So what if it did? It was only a tree.

Deep within the Earth, something stirred.

 

Pegman – Second Time Lucky

January 29, 2018 42 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw which this week takes us to Bristol, England.

This week sees the return of our hapless, newly divorced traveller (though don’t worry, this is a self-contained story). Let’s see how he gets on!

 

“So, here I am, my suitcase filled with bikinis and sandals.”

“Lovely.”

“No, not lovely. I have a selection of sunhats. Litres of sun tan cream.”

“It’s best to be safe.”

“Days on the beach, I thought. A trip to Marseilles, maybe even Barcelona, I thought.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure that’s really on the cards.”

“No, it’s not, is it. We’re standing here in the pouring rain. And it’s freezing.”

“The weather is somewhat disappointing, I’ll give you that.”

“No, I’ll tell you what’s disappointing. Come with me to Montpellier, you said. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, you said. I’ll book the lot, you said. You seem to have lost an ‘l’.”

“An ‘l’, darling?”

“Oh, we’re in Montpelier, all right. Montpelier, BRISTOL! With ONLY ONE ‘L’!”

“I had a similar mishap when I was holidaying with my ex.”

“Goodbye forever. Don’t call.”

 

FF – Not Fit for Purpose

January 24, 2018 96 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Sandra Crook.

Just in case, I should explain that in the context of a car, the “boot” is the UK English word for the “trunk”.

Copyright Sandra Crook

 

Marco exited the building followed by his minions, dragging between them two men, hands bound, sacks over their heads. Billy leapt out of the car.

“Over here, Boss!”

“Boys, chuck these scum in the boot and we’ll… what the hell is that?”

“Me new car!”

“Uh…”

“All the latest gadgets!”

“It has a boot the size of a peanut. We’ll never get ’em in there.”

“The old car was full of bullet holes.”

“Let ‘em go, lads. It’s their lucky day. Billy, inside. You ‘n me gonna have a… chat.”

“Ooh, great! Let me tell you about its amazing fuel consumption…”