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FFftPP – Motherlode
Here is my story for Roger’s writing challenge Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. The supplied introductory sentence is in bold in my story.
I had a go at some “1950’s detective” this week. It didn’t quite work but it was a bit of fun :-).
Image public domain
We were within a mile-and-a-half of the service roads when we found it. Right where she said it’d be.
She came ta the office yesterday. Bull Duggan Investigations. I’m Bull Duggan. Pleased ta meet ya. She had legs up ta her ears so I had a listen. Said she knew where it was, tried to charge me for the location. I tried ta stall but she was tough, tough as my wife’s meatloaf. I caved. Paid the broad.
So here I am, slogging through Nowheresville USA like some schmuck on a hiking vacation. ‘Cept this hike’s about to hit the motherlode. I yell at the boy to get his legs moving. Lazy good fer nothin’ but he’s my cousin’s kid. Wanted me ta show ‘im the ropes. You know how that goes.
So we find the guy. He’s long gone. Deader’n a dodo spit roasted over an open fire. The kid chucks. He ain’t got the stomach fer this kinda work. I shoo off the vultures. Some don’t like ‘em, but they’re just surviving, live and let live. I pick through the body. I hit pay dirt.
There it is. Shiny like a brand new nickel. The Maltese Budgie. Pay day. Now to track down that broad…
FF – Letting Go
Here is my story for the weekly Friday Fictioneers challenge, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s picture was contributed by Amy Reese. Thanks, Amy :-).
For the other stories this week, click on the blue frog.
Copyright Amy Reese
“Oh, Sally, look. It’s a complete mess already. Weeds, sticks…”
“Hun, it’s been weeks.”
“Has it been that long? It seems like only yesterday.”
Sally looked at her husband, eyes brimming with concern. It had been three months since the funeral. She took his arm. “Come on, we’d best go inside. Do you feel ready?”
Grief etched on his face, Harold looked up at the house, a house now empty of life. He placed one tentative foot on the detritus-covered steps and froze. “No… no, not today. Maybe tomorrow?”
“That’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
FFfAW – Long Gone
Here is my story for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This week’s photo was contributed by Etol Bagam. Click on the blue frog for this week’s other stories.
Copyright Etol Bagam
“And here we have what was known as a ‘bar’. Please feel free to look around, and ask me any questions you wish.”
The crowd wandered around the little room, oohing and aahing.
“Excuse me, what was this strange table for?”
“We believe it was an educational tool. These balls probably represented planets, and helped patrons understand gravitational mechanics.”
The crowd oohed and aahed some more.
“What was in these bottles?”
“A good question! These held a flavoured mixture of toxic chemicals. They imbibed this mixture, would you believe?”
The crowd looked shocked.
“And these little plates held the burnt remains of a poisonous weed, smoked by the patrons.”
“My goodness,” said one of the crowd. “It’s no wonder they all died!”
“Indeed. After they blew their world apart, all our survey team found was this one little room, which we carefully transported across the galaxy to this museum. We can only thank Przzglub that these self-destructive hoomans never developed interstellar travel.”
The crowd nodded in agreement as they moved to the next exhibit.
Over Exposure
I had trouble with Friday Fictioneers this week and I had trouble with this story too! Do you ever get weeks when the story just won’t come?
This photo comes from Pixabay.
Picture from Pixabay.com
“So, what do you think?”
“It’s rubbish. It’s set all wrong. I can see right through you. All I see is bones.”
“Perfect. The perfect diagnostic tool.”
“I wanted to see you in your underwear! This is no good.”
“Pig. Is that all you think about? This will help thousands in hospitals everywhere.”
“If you adjust it to see people naked, instead of selling it to a few hundred desperate hospitals you’ll sell it to three billion horny men.”
“I’m warning you…”
“Come on, Suzie…”
“Dr Chapman!”
“Whatever, come on, I wanna see you with no clothes on. Twiddle the settings.”
“Right, you sexist moron, that’s it…”
Two days later…
“… and as you can see, ladies and gentlemen, even without an autopsy my Diagnosticon (patent pending) allows you to see that a scalpel penetrated the kidney area, proving that he accidentally stabbed himself in the back while delivering sexist comments…”
FFftPP – A New Job
Here is my contribution to Roger’s first ever “Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner” challenge. The rules, in brief:
- Up to 200 words
- A beginning, middle and end (no serial stories)
- A photo and (optional) opening sentence are provided
- Content to be PG-13. It will be a new challenge not to include any hideous deaths in my writing 🙂
The supplied sentence is in italics in my story.
Click on the blue froggy for the other entries!
Image public domain free stock photo
Of all the places I thought I would end up on New Year’s Eve I can’t believe it’s here. I used to be somebody. I used to be a contender. Last New Year’s Eve I was in a boxing gym. I saw the greats. I was punched by pretty much anybody who was somebody.
Okay, so I’m a bunch of processed petrochemicals. I don’t get a choice of career.
But the boxing gym… Oh, the joy as a gloved fist smacked me hard. Those people knew how to live!
Whap – boing! – whap – boing!
Life doesn’t get any better than that.
And now I’ve been recycled as a bowling pin. I still get smacked in the face, but it’s not so personal any more, you know? Just a ball rolled down an aisle. There’s no finesse. No “up close and personal”. Trashed by a random unknown at long range. Oh, the dents I’ve suffered. The indignity of it all!
Here comes another one. It’s swerving, it going to miss me, it’s just gonna clip the edge… ouch! Tough luck, Chester, my fellow pin-at-arms. That had to hurt! Hey! No strike this time, loser. Loooserrrrr!
Friday Fictioneers – Backwards
Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle. The photo was provided by Jean L Hays. It’s apparently another rerun, but before my time!
If you look closely, everything outside the window is the wrong way round! I’m still trying to get my brain to work out the specifics of it all :-(.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Jean L. Hays
“Open your eyes and take a look outside.”
“Everything’s… backwards! You weren’t kidding. The 708 Fulton really is a dimensional transport vehicle! Who’d’a thunk it?”
“Indeed! How old do you think I am?
“Um… thirty-five, thirty-six maybe?”
“Three hundred and five.”
“Wha…”
“Time travels backwards here. For every year I spend in our world, I spend a year here… getting younger! The net effect? I never age!”
“Woah… really?!”
“No, not really! Man, you’re so gullible! I positioned a mirror while your eyes were closed.”
“Whaaa… grrrrrr!”
“?eeffoc fo puC. eeh eeH”
“!ylevoL”
FFfAW – Countdown
I thought I’d have my first go at Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This involves a photo (this week contributed by Sonya) and 100-150 words (+/-25).
I immediately saw an Apollo landing thingumy when I saw this picture :-). Click on the blue froggy to read the other stories.
Copyright Sonya from “Only 100 Words”
“What the Hell sort of landing was that? We were supposed to splash down in the sea!”
“I’m guessing we didn’t. Millions of miles of ocean and we missed. Maybe restarting the Apollo missions was a bad idea.”
“Well, we’re back home and safe! The three heroes. Any landing you can walk away from, and all that…”
“We’re safe. Lieutenant Wilkins wasn’t so lucky.”
“Why, what’s wrong with him?”
“Scoot round and take a look. His acceleration couch failed.”
“Woah, nasty. That’s just wrong. I’m not cleaning that up. And then there were two…”
“Well, best disembark, I suppose. Just get out of these straps…”
“Careful you don’t slip on Wilkins on the way out.”
“Urgh! Just open the door here… half a million miles and now we’re home… ahhhhhh!” (splat)
“Wow, how’d we end up all the way up here? And then there was one…”
Friday Fictioneers – Christmas Cat Goes Clubbing
Here is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Scott L. Vannatter. That looks a lot like a driving licence in front of the cat, I wonder what he’s up to…?
To read the other stories for this week, click on the blue froggy. And have a wonderful Christmas everyone :-).
Copyright Scott L. Vannatter
Meow. Let’s see, that’s my fake ID ready. Name: “Pussy Willow”. Date of birth: “27/01/2012”. That should get me in.
I hear all the clubs are full of the cutest kitty cats at Christmas-time (whatever that is – all I know is at this time of year there’s loads of paper and boxes to play with).
Do I have everything? ID… check. Catnip… check. Have to hide that somewhere the bouncers won’t find it.
I’m gonna get some action tonight. Meeeeeow!
Have fun everyone, but drink your milk responsibly and take it easy with the catnip. Merry Christmas (whatever that is)!
Friday Fictioneers – Scorched Earth
Here is this week’s tale for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle also provided this week’s photo. To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
“How could this have happened? How could they not have noticed?”
“Maybe it’s hard to notice tiny amounts of chemicals building up in the atmosphere.”
“Until they catch fire and burn the Earth.”
“Yes. Until then.”
“How long do we have, do you think?”
“See that glow? That’s London burning. An hour, maybe?”
“I bet it’s an amazing sight from the space station.”
“I bet it is. The whole world on fire. It’ll burn until the oxygen runs out.”
“So this is the end.”
“For us. The world will recover. Nature always finds a way.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Friday Fictioneers – The Beginning of the End
Here is my tale for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo this week was contributed by Luther Silar.
To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Luther Silar
“Waaaaa! Waaaaa! Uncle Jeremy shot Flapper! Waaaaaa!”
“What the hell did you do, Jerry?”
“I thought that the Christmas turkey had escaped.”
“IT’S YELLOW!”
“Big Bird’s yellow.”
“Big Bird’s not real! Turkey’s aren’t yellow!”
“What is it then?”
“It is… was a ‘Flapper Enhanced Robotic Companion’. Look at Timmy’s little face. You’ve shot his present. You’ve ruined Christmas.”
“Robots? Huh. Good job I shot it, then. It’s the Rise of the Machines. What’s this, now?”
I am Robbie, your helpful Kitchen Companion. You have murdered Flapper. Therefore I will now terminate you.
“See? Told ya.”
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