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Posts Tagged ‘flash fiction’

Pegman – The King

December 11, 2017 30 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw which this week sees us at the Palace of Versailles.

Copyright from Google Maps

 

Pierre waited in the gilded antechamber, readying his performance. His anxiety increased. To play at the Palace of Versailles – an honour to be sure – was nerve-wracking in itself, but rumours were that the King himself would be in attendance. If true it was huge indeed – the King was thought dead.

The curtains opened leaving Pierre feeling exposed. Peering into the crowd, he was sure he caught a glimpse of the King’s trademark clothing – high-necked, glittering like the sun. He sat at the piano and started to play, adding his voice to the melody.

He finished, stood and bowed.

Silence.

All eyes turned to the King.

The King proclaimed in his deep voice, “Unoriginal. Return to sender, you hound dog. Thank you. Thank you very much,” struck a pose and left.

“Huh,” thought Pierre. “I hate Vegas. And the Palace of Versailles Casino and Ballroom can kiss my butt.”

 

FF – Pretty Icicles

December 6, 2017 58 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Today’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson. Thanks, Dale!

This week you get a “poem” and a story. Yay 🙂

Copyright Dale Rogerson

 

Hanging proud, bright
Stalactites of clearest azure
Dangling daggers
Certain death to those below
Or to those who upset
Or those who deliver not
That which is demanded


Meltable
Untraceable
DEATH

 

“What do you think?”

“Yeah, not bad.”

“You really reckon if we include this poem he’ll cough up everything we’re demanding?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. And if he goes to the cops it’s just a Christmas poem. No harm, no foul. What are you after?”

“Internet-enabled Furby. You?”

“iPad. Write the letter of demands.”

“Cool, here goes. ‘Dear Santa…’”

 

Pegman – New Species

December 4, 2017 30 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw, which this week is in Fukushima, scene of the nuclear accident. While I’m not entirely happy writing a funny story in the wake of all that, options seemed limited. It’s a pretty lame and silly story anyway, to be honest.

Copyright Google

 

“Where is everybody?”

“Dunno. Maybe it’s a national holiday or something.”

“I figured there might be a carnival on, what with the barriers.”

“Barriers?”

“Yeah. While you were asleep we passed barriers on the road. There was no-one there so I just drove around.”

“Woah. Maybe we’re not supposed to be here.”

“We’re Google, dude. We’re supposed to be everywhere.”

“Yeah!”

High five.

“Let’s map the rest of these streets and get out of here. Hmm, my noses are bleeding.”

“That’s weird. My hair is falling out. Hey, you didn’t used to have two heads, did you?”

“Not not that that I I remember remember.”

“Cool!”

High five.

“Hey, look. I have a third hand!”

Extra high five.

“There’s a bench. Let’s stop and have lunch.”

“Good idea. Don’t get your tail trapped in the door.”

And thus began the rise of… Homo Mutans!

 

FF – Country Holiday

November 29, 2017 72 comments

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo was contributed by Russell Gayer.

Copyright Russell Gayer

 

“No. No way.”

“You said you wanted a break in the country. Well, here we are. In the country.”

“It smells.”

“Country air!”

“There’s no internet.”

“Peace at last!”

“The bed’s all lumpy.”

“It’s the real country experience! Now, you finish unpacking while I visit the bathroom. It was a long journey. The brochure says it’s around the back somewhere.”

Two minutes later…

“Pack your bags. I’ve booked us into the hotel in town.”

“Eh? What happened to country…”

“Don’t.”

“But…”

“Just don’t.”

 

Pegman – Invasion of the Ice Cream Snatchers

November 27, 2017 40 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw. This week we are in the Isle of Wight.

It’s been years since I was there. I think we took a ferry from Portsmouth to Ryde. I seem to recall singing the Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride/Ryde” and waving my ticket around.

I went with the suggested “mysterious object in the sky”.

Copyright The Google

 

Dro’Gek stared up at the sky. “This is it! They’ve finally arrived.”

“Hooray!” replied Merk’Na. “The invasion’s on! Jee’Bak, scan it.”

“Scanning,” said Jee’Bak. “It’s… a seagull.”

“Dammit!” snapped Dro’Gek.

“Wait, though,” reasoned Merk’Na. “They might be using camouflage tech. Hiding from the humans. Check again.”

Just as Jee’Bak turned back to the scanner, the shape dropped towards them.

“It must be them!” called Dro’Gek. “They’ve seen us!”

The shape shot straight down and ripped through the little group, sending them flying. It soared away and they dragged themselves to their feet.

“It wasn’t them, then,” said Jee’Bak. “That gives me an idea, though. We had, what, two pasties and an ice cream? Now we have only crumbs. And Merk’Na has lost a hand.”

“Waah!” sobbed Merk’Na.

“Yes!” agreed Dro’Gek. “We don’t need the others. We shall weaponise the seagulls!”

And so the (rather ineffectual) invasion of Earth began.

 

FF – After He’s Gone

November 22, 2017 76 comments

Here is my little story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields herself!

 

“The house seems so… empty without him.”

Her husband nodded and opened the cupboard.

“Look,” she sobbed. “All the stuff he used to play with. The old clock. He… he… loved that clock.”

He kissed her forehead. “He did. Such happy memories.”

“Gone so fast. I miss him so.”

The doorbell rang. He peeked out the window. “Shit! He’s back! And he’s brought laundry! I told you that college just down the road was too close. Close the curtains!”

“And switch off the lights! Too late. He’s seen us… Hi dear! How are you? Dirty washing, how lovely…”

 

Pegman – What Goes Around

November 21, 2017 40 comments

Here is my story for What Pegman Saw, which this week takes us to San José el Huayate, Chiapas, Mexico.

Copyright Google

 

Juan gazed at the peaceful scene before him, a stark contrast to the life of violence and death he had left behind.

Recruited into the cartels from an early age, his proclivity for violence had catapulted him to head interrogator in short order. Finally despairing of that life, he had “liberated” a tidy sum and fled.

He’d thought he’d have longer before they found him, he mused as he hung, naked, from a crossbar. He found himself mentally chastising his protégé.

The wires Manuel had used to attach the car battery were far too thin. Everything was too dry to properly conduct the current – it would get very hot. He’d attached the crocodile clip to the wrong testicle.

Not that any of that really mattered, though he was sure having his genitals burst into flames wasn’t part of Manuel’s torture plan.

He’d had a good run, but nobody escapes the cartels. Nobody.