draliman on life

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. It’s a brand new photo this week, supplied by Vijaya Sundaram.

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

Copyright Vijaya Sundaram

Jorgen watched the fireworks as they burst in triumphant splendour over the distant town.

His town.

His burning town.

A town full of corpses. His family, his friends, men, women, children. The woman who helped his kids cross the street to school every day.

All gone now. All gone.

And the invaders were celebrating. Celebrating! Drinking their fill, gorging themselves while everything he’d ever known turned to ash.

Resolute, his decision made, he checked that the knife was secured to his belt and melted into the shadows, heading towards the smoke and fire.

Here is my post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. It’s another summer rerun so I’m rerunning my original story (with a couple of tiny twiddles), as I had a read earlier and quite liked it. It’s from January 2015. Dee Lovering requested this rerun and the photo was submitted by Georgia Koch.

Click the froggy for all the other stories.

Copyright Georgia Koch

Franco’s friends (if it could be said that he had friends) were astonished when he joined “Save Our Barges”. An ex-mobster, charity was never his thing.

He chatted to the great and good, raised funds and worked tirelessly until at last he made it onto the charity’s board… until at last he was granted access to the Betty May.

The charity’s latest restoration project, the Betty May was locked away in dry dock, awaiting much-needed love and a tender touch.

That night the Betty May burnt down to ash. Some of Franco’s secrets were best left buried.

Here is my post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This one is a rerun from March 2014 with a photo supplied by Adam Ickes, requested by Sandra Crook. I was going to write a new story but I quite like the story I wrote last time so I’ll repost it (with a few changes).

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

Copyright Adam Ickes

Taking a deep breath, Shelley gathered her courage and approached the little wooden bridge. The new varnish gleamed – she couldn’t even tell that it had been damaged.

Edging forward she looked into the gulley, a run-off for melting winter snow. A tear stung her eye as she cast her mind back to the week before when everything was all right, everything was normal – the buzzing of the little dirt bike, the laughter of her brother, his excitement as he tore onto the bridge.

A tiny miscalculation, and everything changed.

Forever.

She placed her flowers next to the bridge and walked away.

Here is my almost duplicate post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. It’s a rerun from September 2013 and the photo was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields.

Originally I managed to write the word “beast” about 10 times so I’ve had a go at sorting that. I was going to write something about those massive giraffes on the horizon but Elder Scrolls Online won’t play itself. Well, actually it will, but without me 😦 And I’ve been horribly busy at work so the reruns have come at a good time. A few people who are still around read it last time – feel free to reuse your comment!

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

Photo copyright Jan Wayne Fields

The little boat tossed on the choppy waters of the bay as Jedrik demonstrated a simple reef knot to his grandson. The young lad watched entranced as the old man’s gnarled fingers once again worked their magic.

Scant yards away the shark, lost and hungry after a long journey through unknown waters, tracked the large beast. It had broken such creatures before. Though hard and tasteless on the outside, it knew that they always contained tasty morsels of flesh within. It had only to break the shell.

The shark altered its course towards the boat and increased speed.

As it’s another re-run week on Friday Fictioneers, I have decided in my current lazy mood to re-post the same story I wrote 2 years ago :-).

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle, the photo was contributed by Sandra Crook and the re-do was requested by Jennifer Pendergast.

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

Copyright Sandra Crook

“Look out! Run for your lives and don’t look back!”

“What? Are you not asleep yet? I thought you were counting sheep?”

“Yeah, awesome zombie sheep! They’ve surrounded a car and they’re eating the occupants. There’s blood and body parts everywhere. They’re bleating ‘baa baa baaaarains!’”

“Okay, this isn’t working. Try counting something else.”

“Like what?”

“Something a little more soothing. A little more sedate. Like cows. Try counting cows. I need to sleep myself, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow.”

“Cows it is then.”

Ten minutes later…

“Woah! Run!”

“Ugh. What is it now?!”

“Awesome vampire cows!”

Here is my post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo is from 2012 and was contributed by Jan Marler Morrill. It was suggested as a redo by Sandra Crook.

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

Copyright Jan Marler Morrill

Derek squinted, grunting in pain as the merciless sun reflected from the whitewashed buildings. On reflex he raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow but encountered only dried salt. What kind of hell was this?

How he missed the ice and snow of his homeland, how he dreamed of nights on watch, huddled in his furs as he guarded the Keep. How he longed to return! Surely the Order would take him back once he repaid his debt, once he brought proof of the Betrayer’s death? Drawing the dagger from its sheath, he slipped into the alley.

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. She also supplied this week’s photo which is a redo from many years ago and was suggested by Kent Bonham.

After I wrote this story it occurred to me that, all unplanned, it could be a continuation of my last one, but set two years later.

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

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Ice glistened, a delicate filigree tracing intricate patterns across the window. Edward traced his finger over the loops and swirls, a morning ritual. At last he turned away to begin another gruelling day of nuclear winter.

Reaching for the door handle, he noticed a glint of orange flicker across the wall. Turning back, he saw the window glow with light, blazing yellow as the sun, hidden these past two years, illuminated the swirls of frost with the promise of life.

The dust had settled, the long winter ended, the remnants of the human race reborn to a new dawn.