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FF – Treatment Failed
Here is my story for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The picture this week was contributed by J Hardy Carroll.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright J Hardy Carroll
Josie looked up at the burned out windows as she huddled in the shadow of the broken building. The other kids thought this place depressing but she liked it here. Sometimes she fancied that if she looked hard enough, she could see the ghost of her mother staring down. It made her feel safe.
Her mother had been a “resident” here at Saint Joseph’s Home for the Feeble of Mind until the Great Fire of 1972. They’d been trying to cure her of her compulsion towards arson.
Josie shook her head sadly. Guess it didn’t take.
FF – The Final Sacrifice
Here’s my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. I’m a bit earlier than usual as I have a day off today! The photo was supplied by Marie Gail Stratford.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Marie Gail Stratford
The city looked so beautiful, so peaceful from up on the ledge. Harry watched the people, ant-like, scurrying around, busy with their own lives. He felt strangely disconnected.
He had lost the house trying to prop up his failing law firm, the last straw for his long-suffering wife. She’d left with the kids. He had nothing left.
Hearing his law partner approach, pleading with him to come back off the ledge, he shook his head sadly.
“Here’s what you do. This roof has easy access, no locked door and no safety rail. Sue the owners. Save the firm.”
He jumped.
FF – Modern Art
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Ted Strutz.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Ted Strutz
“Jeez, mate, what the Hell is that? What a mess!”
Pedro looked the passer-by straight in the eyes. “It’s new, it’s bold, it’s modern, it’s art!”
“Yeah… it’s not though, is it? It’s crap and you’re a hack.”
“Hmm, maybe it could use a little extra something…” mused Pedro, eyes flashing angrily. “Wait right here.”
For days the artwork “Man With Head Smashed In By Sledgehammer Next To Toilet Of Flowers” took the art world by storm. That is, until the sun came out and the “beautifully detailed figure” (Modern Sculpture Magazine), the “utterly lifelike mannequin” (Art Today), started to stink.
The End of Days
I thought I would do a story for Sunday Photo Fiction this week, which is hosted by Al Forbes and asks for a story of around 200 words. The photo looked like fun! It’s a smidge over 200 words, sorry. I cut it down as much as I could!
To read the other stories, click on the blue frog.
With a flash of lightning and clap of thunder a dread figure appeared. All the Peoples of the Earth looked up in dismay.
“THIS IS THE END OF THE DAYS OF MAN!” it declaimed. All the Peoples of the Earth wept in fear.
“YOUR TIME AS A RACE HAS COME TO AN END!” it continued. Everyone cowered in terror. “TODAY IS YOUR LAST… huh?”
There was a faint ringing sound. The Peoples watched as the demonic figure tapped its ear.
“I’m a bit busy, can’t this wait?” it said in a more normal tone of voice. “Say what now? You’re kidding me… huh?… No, no, I’m not happy, this is unbelievable. Fire the intern! Bye, bye, goodbye, bye.”
“AHEM. PEOPLES OF THE EARTH, HARKEN! THERE HAS BEEN A SLIGHT COCK-UP IN THE COMMUNICATIONS DEPARTMENT.” The Peoples of the Earth shivered in confusion.
“ALLOW ME TO START AGAIN.” The figure cleared its throat. “THIS IS THE END OF THE DAYS OF DAN. IS THERE A DAN HERE?”
A small figure hesitantly raised its hand.
“AH, DAN, COME WITH ME, PLEASE. YOU’RE ABOUT TO HAVE A VERY BAD DAY. AS FOR THE REST OF YOU… I GUESS YOU’RE FINE. FOR NOW. FAREWELL!”
With another flash of lightning, both demonic figure and unfortunate Dan disappeared.
FF – Hard Times
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle is our host and she also provided this week’s photo!
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Myron contemplated the dilapidated factories across the river. They used to be so busy, he mused. Back when there was money. No longer. Times were tough. With the closure of those factories, days of joy and laughter spent with his wife and son had become a hand-to-mouth existence.
Something had to give. Myron had taken action.
At least now there’s one less mouth to feed, he thought. As if on cue he saw a bundle being swept downriver.
“Samuel!” he yelled angrily. “Your mother’s floating off again. Fetch her back and this time use all your gym equipment to weigh her down!”
FF – Into the Shadows
Here is my little story for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100 word flash fiction hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Emmy L. Gant.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Emmy L. Gant
Delvor cast his eye over the city as the sun slipped behind billowing clouds, admiring the spires and majestic buildings, testament to the achievements of Man. Despite these grand structures, the city was quiet, seemingly deserted.
Would that it were, he mused as he shifted his gaze to the shadows; inky black, far too black, unnaturally black. Delvor was Chosen. Delvor could see that which was hidden to most, the things which lived in the dark places, under beds, inside wardrobes. Things which killed the unsuspecting, the unaware, mutilating without mercy.
Girding himself, he unsheathed his obsidian dagger and advanced.
FF – Still Useful
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers at last. Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle and this week’s photo was contributed by Sean Fallon.
You’d hardly believe it, but I spent all of yesterday trying to think how I could add a salt shaker and iPhone charger so I could work in the line “I’m charging you with a-salt and battery.” Sadly, it was not to be :-(. So here’s yet another post-apocalyptic nightmare for you instead.
To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Sean Fallon
Seamus stared sadly at his cache of batteries. Time was you could slip one of these babies into a torch, a remote, a toy, and it would come to life! Not anymore. Not since the flares.
Who knew the Sun held such anger in its soul? Every circuit board on Earth, every machine, fried in an instant.
The door flew open, dragging Seamus from his reverie.
“Seamus! Got another one who won’t cooperate! Need some more of that acid.”
Seamus picked a battery out of his pot, carefully sawed the top off and handed it over. Still useful, he muttered.
FF – The Good Old Days
A day later than usual, here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was supplied by Al Forbes. To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Al Forbes
As he drove back from the motor show, Terry reflected on the good old days. He’d driven those cars for real, once. Sure, they were a little out of date even then, but common enough not to be a curiosity. Real cars for real drivers!
Ah, the wind in your hair, the flies in your eyes, the freezing winter air ripping through you. Every bump a nightmare, every junction a challenge, every corner a danger.
He adjusted the climate control, told his stereo to change tracks, switched on the heated seats and smiled. Progress isn’t all bad, he thought.
FFftPP – The List
I know, it’s technically Friday Fictioneers day, but I’ve written a late entry for Roger’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner.
The supplied opening sentence is in bold, and the picture was sourced here.
Click on the blue froggy for other stories.
Public Domain Archive
There it was. You could see the corner of the folded yellowed parchment sticking out of the torn lining of the battered book.
“How did it get in there?” asked Sarah.
“I don’t know,” replied Mother, “but we need it. We can’t leave without The List.” She gave a tentative tug at the corner of The List. It didn’t move.
“Care, mother!” snapped Sarah. Ashamed at her tone, she continued in a softer voice. “The Book is ancient. We dare not damage it!”
“But The List,” replied Mother. “The List is essential. Without it we cannot continue. All will be lost.”
“One moment.” Sarah rummaged through her pack, finding a pair of tweezers. Carefully, she tugged at the corner of The List until, inch by inch, it came free.
“There!” she said. “At last we have The List, and The Book is undamaged.” She handed it to Mother who unfolded it carefully, almost reverently.
“Is everything there, Mother?” asked Sarah anxiously. “Did you remember the eggs?”
“Yes!” said Mother triumphantly. “Let’s go shopping!”
FF – Imagination
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Today’s photo was contributed by FF regular Sandra Crook.
You can read this week’s other stories by clicking on the blue froggy.
Copyright Sandra Crook
“Check this out! It’s really a time machine.”
“No way!”
“Yes way! See the hourglasses? What time is it now?”
“Um… big hand’s on the… um… twenty-five past three.”
“I’m going to spin the central bit, round and round and…”
“Oy! You kids! What’re you doing to ‘The Sands of Time’? Clear off!”
“Run!”
“Phew, that was close. Did it work?”
“What time is it now?”
“Um… twenty-six past three. Wow, we’ve travelled forward a whole minute!”
“Told ya! Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yeah! What shall we do now?”
“See that spiky thing over there? It’s really a spaceship.”
“No way!”
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