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Posts Tagged ‘flash fiction’

FF – The Bigger Sin

May 10, 2017 75 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo comes from Rochelle as well. I hope it wasn’t her car 😦

(Just in case non-Brits are not aware, a shopping “trolley” is called a “cart” in the US.)

Click on the blue froggy for this week’s other stories.

 

“I’m waiting, Son.”

“Well, Dad, I went grocery shopping, see, and someone crashed into it with their trolley.”

“So, someone rammed their trolley into the car at… what? 50, 60 miles per hour?”

“That’s about the size of it, Dad.”

“The Hulk, was it? And this isn’t you on the camera sneaking out at 11pm?”

“Hmm, looks like me but isn’t. Weird.”

“Son…?”

“Okay, I snuck out on a date with Suzy and had a ding.”

“Cheerleader Suzy? Straight-A-student Suzy? Hot Suzy?”

“Yep!”

“Woo, nice one, Son! High five!”

High five slap.

“But you’re grounded for lying. ‘Til you’re 50.”

 

FF – Their Future in Our Hands

May 3, 2017 80 comments

Here is my quirky not-really-a-story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo comes from Fictioneers stalwart Sandra Crook.

For this week’s other stories click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Sandra Crook

 

Picture the scene. A sleepy English village. Ignore the French flag. The French flag is unimportant. This is a sleepy English village.

Concentrate instead on the loving couple, hand in hand, oblivious to anything but each other.

But what’s this? Suddenly a hundred Friday Fictioneererers Fictioneerrers Fiction Writers appear!

Maybe our couple will wander safely home for tea and crumpets. Maybe they will become innocent bystanders of a drive-by shooting. Or imagine, if you will, hordes of undead boiling forth to feast on their flesh.

We don’t know. We just don’t know.

Their future is in OUR hands.

Don’t cock it up.

 

FF – On the Thoughts of Ghosts

April 26, 2017 76 comments

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

I had no real ideas this week, so fair warning – you need a really weird sense of humour to see anything in this, and even then, it’s likely to be “huh?” It’s a wee bit surreal 🙂

Copyright Liz Young

 

Typical. With all the “space-saving grave relocations” going on, his coffin had to be on the one plane which blew up mid-air.

His tombstone had landed in a public park. The rest of him was scattered the length and breadth of Wiltshire.

When he’d been alive he’d often needed to be in several places at once. Now he was. It was rubbish.

He supposed he’d better start haunting someone now he was no longer stuck in a coffin.

Or several someones. The length and breadth of Wiltshire.

That tenacious dog playing with his shin-bone could be his first victim.

Boo!

 

FF – No Pain No Gain

April 19, 2017 68 comments

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

Click on the blue froggy for this week’s other stories.

Copyright Magaly Guerrero

 

“So what’s all this gubbins for, again?”

“The heels are for my night out.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“The art book reminds me of the suffering endured through the ages for the sake of beauty. Like me in my heels.”

“Okay…”

“The red book is a medical reference so I know everything that’s gone wrong with my feet after my night out in my heels.”

“And the little suitcase?”

“Antiseptic, plasters and whatnot. To fix my feet up ready for my next night out. In my heels.”

“I’d switch to flats if I were you.”

“Dad, don’t you know anything? Men!

 

FF – Senseless Waste

April 12, 2017 69 comments

Here is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo is from Dale Rogerson. Thanks, Dale! I have a very clear image in my mind of my two protagonists 🙂

(In case it’s not used where you are, a “copper” is a police office. I guess, thinking about it, that’s where the American word “cop” comes from.)

To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Dale Rogerson

 

“I can’t believe it, Jenkins.”

“Nor me, Sarge.”

“All my years as a copper, to see this.”

“Frightful, Sarge.”

“In his own home, his own home!”

“His castle, Sarge.”

“Safely locked away from the stinking, all-encompassing evil out there.”

“Evil, Sarge. All-encompassing.”

“What a waste, Jenkins, a stupid, senseless, waste!”

“Senseless, Sarge.”

“His safe haven, away from prying eyes, and he still couldn’t bring himself to eat the whole pizza.”

“Pathetic, Sarge.”

“I’ll be ripping the piss out of him when he gets back from the shops. And Jenkins? No need to call me ‘Sarge’ when we’re off duty.”

“Understood, Sarge.”

 

FF – The Aspiring Poet

April 5, 2017 69 comments

Here is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was sent in by Jellico’s Stationhouse.

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

 

A bicycle, yet not; a shadow, a merest thought of what was once a bicycle; an imagining, if you will, a suspicion of shape, of purpose, not yet formed in the mind of… whom? May we even dare to imagine this being, this shadow, this merest hint…

“Oh, good God, will you ever shut UP!”

“I’m channelling my inner poet.”

“Well, I’ve had enough. I’m off down town. I’m taking my bike.”

“No, wait, my muse, ridden away… hmm…”

Never more to cast the merest hint of shadow, a void where once the thought of a maybe-bicycle enters one’s imaginings…

 

FF – Pilot Boats

March 29, 2017 65 comments

Here is my story (sort of) for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This weeks’s nautical photo was contributed by Fatima Fakier Deria.

It’s a lot harder than you think to deliberately write something awful. My stories are getting ever madder bwahahaha.

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

 

The gloriously-restored ship sets sail, its canvas billowing majestically as the stalwart (yet horribly uninformed) helmsman steers erroneously to port. The graceful ship plows catastrophically into the harbour wall, its timbers splintering in majestic fashion. The gloriously-attired crew members fall into the fatally-cold (yet majestic) sea as the majestically glorious ship sinks gracefully to the bottom on its gloriously majestic (yet final) voyage.

This has been an advert for Porthmiggin Harbour Authority – always use a qualified Pilot – We’re expensive but so’s your boatTM

 

[Also, new PR intern required. Plain, simple language skills a must. Own thesaurus preferred. Apply within.]