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Hunter and Prey
It’s Mondays Finish the Story time. Because its Monday!
This challenge is hosted by Barbara Beecham and involves writing 100 to 150 words in response to a photo. To help us along we also get the starting sentence (which is not part of the word count). Something a bit different this week from me. The supplied starting sentence is in bold in my story below.
To see this week’s other contributions, click on the little blue froggy.
She was unaware that she was being watched.
But everything and everyone is watched. All the time.
The worm, as it goes about its business, is unaware of the bird watching it hungrily, which in turn is oblivious to the hawk above.
The deer has not seen the wolf, stalking it on silent paws. The wolf, intent on its prey, has not seen the hunter staring through the sights of his rifle, already counting the money the wolf’s pelt will bring.
The snow turns red and the hunter claims his prize.
High above, secreted within his cloaked scout ship, Ka’N’Kath watches the hunter through his ship’s optical scanning matrix.
Designation Oltrix 427, local name “Earth”, primitive weapons, multiple natural resources, recommend conquest.
Ka’N’Kath sends the message to High Command, turning his ship towards home, a home he will never again see. For he, in his turn, is being watched.
There is always a bigger fish.
Evidence
Here is my contribution for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, a weekly flash challenge hosted by Rochelle where we write a 100-ish word story based on a photo. This week’s photo was contributed by Georgia Koch.
For this week’s other contributions, click on the little blue froggy. You can also use this link to add your own story to the mix!
Copyright Georgia Koch
Never one for altruism, 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, 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 to charcoal. Some of Franco’s secrets were best left buried.
The Great Escape
It’s Mondays Finish the Story time here on draliman’s blog. This is hosted by Barbara Beacham in which we get a photo and a starting sentence and have to write a 100-150 word story (not counting the starting sentence).
Click on the little blue froggy to see all this week’s contributions. The supplied starting sentence is in bold in my story. It’s a little bit o’ dialogue this week.
They finally made their escape. Unfortunately, they were now stuck in a ditch.
“Moron!” yelled Teddy.
“Idiot!” yelled Brian.
They sat in silence for a moment.
“What now?” asked Teddy. “They’ll catch us for sure.”
“Try it again,” said Brian.
Teddy pushed the pedal. The wheels spun. The truck didn’t move.
“We’re dead,” moaned Brian. “They’ll catch us, then they’ll kill us.”
“Or they’ll lock us away forever,” added Teddy.
They stared at each other.
“Maybe if you got out and pushed?”
“You get out and push!” yelled Brian.
More silence.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Teddy finally.
“Too late,” said Brian, looking behind them.
Racing up the road came Mr Jenkins in his tracksuit. Much further back was Mr Hawkins, huffing and puffing and clutching his chest.
“Idiot children!” yelled Mr Jenkins. “You could’ve been killed! We’re calling your parents, then it’s detention FOR LIFE!”
“Said so,” mumbled Teddy sadly. “Locked up forever.”
Lost Friends
It’s Friday Fictioneers time hosted by Rochelle, and the photo this week was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields. We need to write a 100-ish word story based on this photo.
I’ve pretty much written nothing but comedies for my challenges recently, but this photo made me feel a bit gloomy for some reason. I nearly renamed this “There in Spirit”. But that sounded a bit corny :-).
Click on the blue guy to read this week’s other stories, or even contribute your own!
Copyright Jan Wayne Fields
Jared stared out of the window. The table behind him was set for four as it always was on this day, a memorial to the four friends who had sat here together every year to celebrate life.
Inseparable since childhood, three years ago death had intervened. A New Year’s party, several drinks too many, a car, a corner, a tree.
Jared’s heart felt heavy as he thought of the three companions he would never again share good times with, help through the bad times.
The door opened and the three friends sombrely entered. Jared took a last look and faded back into their memories.
Close Call
It’s time for Mondays Finish the Story, a weekly challenge hosted by Barbara Beacham in which we get both a photograph and an opening sentence.
The goal is to finish the story in 100-150 words not including the opening sentence, which is fortunate as the opening sentence is quite long this week!
Click on the little blue guy to see the other stories for this week. The supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story.
Racing down into the atmosphere, the unidentified object crashed, leaving behind one heck of a huge crater and a plume of smoke that could be seen from miles around.
Jake and Betty stared in astonishment – at the sky, having been blown off their feet by the blast. Jake reached for his phone.
The police arrived, then the onlookers and finally General Herbert, accompanied by a single tank, his entire arsenal.
A small grey-green figure emerged from the crater, waving all six of his arms enthusiastically. He held up a satchel of some sort.
“Invasion!” yelled Herbert. “Open fire!”
The little figure exploded in a shower of alien guts, sheaves of paper flying from his satchel. Herbert retrieved one.
InterGalactic Pizza™ now operating on your planet. Call today!
“No!” yelled Herbert. “What have I done? A pizza delivery alien. Harmless, innocent, nooooo!”
On the ground was a small device. A radio? He pushed the button.
“Hello? Is anyone there? I’m so sorry…”
“Yes?” said a voice.
“Oh, thank God. We’ll have five quattro formaggi and a side of coleslaw.”
Cash Cow
It’s time for my entry to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo prompt is by Jean L. Hays.
I was going to do a dialogue based on all the “no parking” signs but ended up doing some even sillier dialogue concentrating on the banner which sort of says “Unthink”. I know it’s slightly bad form to write “500” rather than “five hundred” but I was having word count issues :-).
Read all the other contributions by clicking on the blue froggy.
Copyright Jean L. Hays
“UnThink Memory Wipes” – only 500 bucks, and if ever there was a year Bob wanted to forget, this was it.
“One memory wipe,” said the receptionist. “500 dollars, please.”
Presently Bob emerged looking confused, the last year erased.
“One memory wipe – 500 dollars please, sir.”
Bob paid up (again) and left.
“Heh heh!” smirked the receptionist. “Great scam.” He turned to the technician. “You want your cut?”
“Cut of what?”
“You stood too close to the machine again, huh?” asked the receptionist.
“What machine?” asked the technician.
“Uhhhh… never mind. One memory wipe – that’ll be 500 dollars please, sir. Heh heh.”
Off Mission
It’s time for Mondays Finish the Story! This challenge is hosted by Barbara Beacham and gives us 100-150 words to write a little story based on both a photograph and an opening sentence. The opening sentence does not count towards the word count!
This week’s picture features a helicopter. Is it on a rescue or scouting mission, or is it about to rain down fiery death on some unsuspecting person? What could it be? Read on to find out!
The supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story, which is called “Off Mission”.
Silently as the people watched, the black hawk helicopter lifted into the air.
Its pilot Jonas’ orders were clear – guns free, select targets of opportunity. As he flew off, keeping low to avoid radar detection, he knew exactly where he would plant his missiles.
They say “the female of the species is more deadly than the male”, and his chosen target certainly lived up to that. She was vicious, unforgiving, intractable. She destroyed lives, ripped families asunder, ground people into the dirt. Evil had a face, and it was hers.
He began to sweat as his HUD counted down the range – five kilometres, four, three… and there it was, the blacked-out customised SUV containing his nemesis.
She’d even had the nerve, the temerity, to phone him up yesterday to demand – demand! – that he “get up off his fat lazy arse” and sign the papers finalising their divorce.
“Finalise this, bitch!” he screamed as his finger tightened on the trigger.
War of the Idiots
Here is my contribution for this week’s Mondays Finish the Story. This is hosted by Barbara Beacham and we need to write between 100 and 150 words in response to a photo, and using the supplied first sentence (which doesn’t count towards the word count, and is in bold in my story).
I have popped a little bit of history at the end just in case, but read the story first! This week’s other contributions can be found by clicking on the little blue froggy.
The house of Don Francisco sat in a remote part of the desert. A conspiracy theorist, he lived alone and had fortified his basement against “Commies”, terrorists, nuclear and biological attack, the government even. Shelves held canned foods, bottled water, a book or two to read. A small generator provided electricity. He was ready!
Years later he switched on the radio and was aghast to hear bulletins advising of an alien invasion. The world was in peril! He quickly ran to his basement and locked the door.
After long months, his supplies exhausted, Don Francisco finally emerged, emaciated and weak. He staggered to the road and hailed a passing car.
“Did… we win?” he stammered.
“Dude. Win what? You need an ambulance, dude?” asked the driver, a long-haired youth.
“Nine months ago… war… aliens… on the radio…” Francisco managed.
“You mean that Orson Welles retrospective? Dude, can you believe in 1938 people thought it was for real? How stupid… oh. Dude.”
In 1938, as part of “The Mercury Theatre on the Air” series, an adaptation of HG Wells’ “War of the Worlds” was broadcast on the radio as a series of mock news bulletins, apparently causing wide-spread panic as people believed it to be real. Dude! 🙂
Christmas Miracle!
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again, hosted by Rochelle at her blog Addicted to Purple. This week’s photo, which inspires our 100-ish word stories has been contributed by Björn Rudberg.
This is probably the silliest, most pointless story I’ve written for FF but hey – it’s Crizzmuzz! There were so many ways I could have made this a gory tragedy – ah, how I smiled to myself – but no, it’s Crizzmuzz!
Click on the blue froggy for this week’s other stories.
Copyright Björn Rudberg
A swarm of excited kids poured out of the minibus. Christmas Eve trip to the Old Keep. What a treat!
“Careful now,” cautioned their teacher.
The kids didn’t listen. They ran off up the old steps to play “Normans versus Saxons”. The steps were wet and Little Jimmy slipped.
Down he plummeted, screaming. At the last second he fell into the waiting arms of Santa, who had skilfully manoeuvred his sleigh under the falling child before landing safely in the car park.
“It’s a Christmas Miracle!” yelled the kids, clapping.
Meanwhile the sleigh, which had landed in a disabled bay, got clamped.
“Bollocks,” said Santa.
Mondays Finish the Story – Triple Six
It’s time for Mondays Finish the Story – a weekly 100-150 word challenge run by Barbara Beacham where we write a story based on both a photograph and an opening sentence (the opening sentence is free, word-count-wise!).
Sorry if it sounds a wee bit clunky, I had to strip 50 words out :-(. And it’s not very Chrismassy, I’m afraid 😦 :-(.
Click on the blue frog to see other contributions for this week.
The supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story, which is beneath the photo.
As the year wound down to a close, they gathered around the table and raised their glasses.
“As is our custom at year’s end, let us welcome a new member. To Simeon!”
Simeon smiled. At last – inducted into the secretive “Order of the Triple Six”!
For years he had made himself useful to the Order. None knew what they did, only that their association made one rich, powerful.
As they toasted his entry, Simeon noticed that the others were sweating, nervous, scared even. As he watched, one of the Order gazed in horror at his drink, then choked, fighting for breath. He fell to the floor, twitching. Blood sprayed from his mouth and he spasmed, face black, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Simeon dropped his glass in shock.
“There can be only Six,” intoned one.
“One in, one out,” added another.
“B…b…but why Triple Six?” stammered Simeon, shocked.
“Ah, yes. Triple Six. 666. Why don’t we take you to meet our patron?” smiled a third.
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