draliman on life

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, the 100 word story challenge hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by long-standing FF member Sandra Crook.

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

Copyright Sandra Crook

“It’s an eyesore!” some exclaimed.

“A pre-Raphaelite-modernesque statement of individuality and form!” declared others, brazenly inventing art terms on the fly.

“Is it paint? Mosaic tiles?” wondered yet more.

“It’s lovely and warm and cosy,” the owner muttered, largely to himself because nobody else was listening.

Then it rained. It rained and rained and rained. And the building creaked and groaned and creaked and groaned some more. And then it fell down.

Because, you see, while a knitted woollen tea cosy is just the thing for keeping your favourite beverage warm, it’s no good on a house.

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100 word challenge hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jean L. Hays.

My story this week was “inspired” by the famous song “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66” as I have no imagination (it’s written all over the photo!), and also because I was trying desperately not to write such a dark story as previous weeks.

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

Copyright Jean L. Hays

When Freddy ran short of fuel he shouldn’t have stopped at a run-down bar and petrol station in Nowhereville, USA.

When Freddy parked up he shouldn’t have been so careless.

When Freddy saw the bike he’d hit knock down twenty others like dominoes he shouldn’t have gone in and announced it with a big grin on his face.

When Freddy saw twenty-one angry bikers rise from their seats he shouldn’t have said “Ooh, I’m scared, ooh…” in quite such a sarcastic tone of voice.

On a more positive note Freddy got plenty of kicks on Route 66.

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

Not a comedy this week, but not as dark as my preceding stories! To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Peter Abbey

Stefan risked a quick glance back at his erstwhile captors as he made his way gingerly along the tunnel. Ahead, the exchange prisoner approached and further on, the safety of his own troops.

Months of torture and his captors had decided he knew nothing. Sweat broke out on his brow as reality hit – a few more seconds to safety, to divulging the enemy’s plans in detail.

As the two men drew level Stefan felt a blade slide between his ribs.

“Why?” he gasped as his life ebbed away.

“For the cause,” replied the other as a hail of bullets took him down.

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

Right, this is getting out of hand. I need to find my comedy muse once more.

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

Copyright Claire Fuller.

Simon ran his hands lovingly over the treasures on the shelf. Each evoked an exciting memory.

‘That was a wonderful day in Bournemouth’, or ‘I remember what fun I had collecting that’ ran through his mind as he carefully took each one down in turn and studied it. It was his birthday, his treat day, and today he would add to his collection.

Gathering the tools of his trade, he set off towards the nearby school. The added danger fuelled his excitement.

He had never preyed so close to home before.

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. She also supplied the photo this week!

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

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Frederick looked across the darkened room to the windows and sighed. He dimly remembered when those windows looked out over just the vista portrayed in the pictures which now covered them. He peeled away the corner of one and peered out.

Nothing had changed. A barren wasteland, devoid of all life bar a scraggly plant here, a grotesquely mutated animal there.

He’d stockpiled massively before the war, but the years had dwindled his supply to almost nothing. No-one was coming, no rescue. Facing painful starvation, his decision made, he knocked over both lamps and waited for the fire to take him.

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

For some reason, the first thought that came into my head when I saw this picture was that scene from inside the Death Star with those little robots scurrying about the place :-).

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

Copyright Amy Reese

Clutching his half-empty bottle of whiskey, Manfred watched the tiny bot as it sped down the corridor towards him. Off to fix another broken lightbulb or clogged sink, no doubt.

That was his task!

Once.

Now all he had was his drink and a cold corner to sleep in.

He raised his leg and as the bot drew level, brought it down with as much force as he could. The bot shattered. Alarms sounded.

“Jobs for humans!” he shouted as hidden hatches opened, disgorging security bots, their weapons pods already extending to eradicate another undesirable element of twenty-second century paradise.

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

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

Copyright Roger Bultot

“That’s some security.”

“Keep running!”

“It’s just like in ‘Resident Evil’.”

“Which didn’t end well. Keep running!”

The men burst through the door and fell, gasping. Behind them the laser grid flickered out, having chased them down the (now sliced and diced) stairway.

“Talk about your lethal response. Anyone would think they had the crown jewels in there!” said one.

“They did.” The other opened the bag to reveal crowns, necklaces and other bejewelled goodies.

“Awesome! Good job they didn’t have a backup system.”

Neither man noticed the ticking emanating from a suspiciously large sceptre at the bottom of the bag…

Here is my opst for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The picture this week was supplied by Shaktiki Sharma. To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.

I think I’ve written something like this before but this picture had me stumped 🙂

Copyright Shaktiki Sharma

“Beautiful, truly beautiful!”

“Indeed, Tarquin, a masterpiece of modern times. The ordered chaos, d’ya see? Life in a nutshell.”

“Yes, yes, and the detritus covering the window, surely a cutting comment on today’s society.”

“Of course, never seeing the world around us for the rubbish we surround ourselves with – insightful!”

“Beautiful.”

“Beautiful indeed.”

“I must meet the artist!”

“Look, this must be him! I say, my good man…”

“Oy, you two! Can’t you read? This section of the gallery’s closed for refurbishment. Piss off!”

“Um.”

“Ahem.”

Here is my post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle and with a photo contributed this week by Sandra Crook. To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.

A silly little piece of nonsense this week.

Copyright Sandra Crook

“This, we believe,” droned the guide robot, “is a tattooing machine, from around the nineteenth century, old Earth date.”

The crowd “oohed” and “ahhed” before following the guide to the next room.

“Hurry up, dear,” said Filenza.

“One sec, I wanna try this out!” replied her husband.

“Are you mad? If you want a tattoo use an ink transference materialisation module.”

“Nah, this’ll be fun. Old school!” he replied. Filenza followed the others as her husband placed his hand under the needle and pushed the pedal.

“Aaaaargh! It’s not a tattooing machine! Aaaaargh!”

Long-suffering Filenza rolled her eyes. Idiot.

“Coming, dearest!”