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Mistaken Identity
I can hardly believe it’s time for Friday Fictioneers once again, but it is! This is a 100-ish word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle, who is currently on her summer break, it seems. Therefore we have a re-run photo to write to. It’s not a re-run for me, though, as I’ve only been doing this for a year. A year and 4 days, in fact, so this is my FF anniversary!
The photo was contributed by Madison Woods, and nearly made me throw up when I saw it. I have no idea what it is, and I don’t think I want to either. Thanks, Madison đ .
Click on Bracken, the little blue fellow, to see this week’s other contributions.
âTrust me, this stuff is fine! Hmm, tastes a bit rank.â
âIt looks gross. How you know itâs good to eat?â
âIt says so in the âFruits of the Worldâ book. See? Ugh, itâs all crunchy.â
ââCurved and yellow in colour, a good source of potassium. Peel before eating.â Sounds like a banana. That’s not right. Look, thereâs a page missing. Itâs been ripped out.â
âOh. I wonder what the description for this was?â
âGross, do not eat? Iâll Google it. Here it is. Oh.â
âI canât feel my feet. Everythingâs going dark.â
âIf anything were to happen to you, could I have your Xbox?â
âWhy do you ask?â
âNo reason.â
Cowboy Trucking Inc
Unbelievably, it’s Wednesday again and you know what that means, don’t you? Yes, that’s right, it’s time for Friday Fictioneers!
100 or so of us write 100 or so words in response to a photo prompt, which has been contributed this week by Roger Bultot. As always, the talented Rochelle is at the helm.
My story last week was a bit grim, so here’s some mindless dialogue for you. Coincidentally, this ties in quite well with my post yesterday all about driverless cars. In this case, however, instead of having no steering wheel, this little lorry appears to have two of the things! What’s that all about?!
To read this week’s other stories click on the little blue chap below, whom I like to call Bracken.
Copyright Roger Bultot
âWhat’s with the foliage?â
âItâs decoration.â
âItâs not, though, is it?â
âWe drove through a hedge.â
âHuh?â
âAt a junction, Bill turned left and I turned right. The lorry went straight on. Itâs these stupid dual steering wheels.â
âAny comeback?â
âNah. Hedge owner was standing right in the way. He wonât be making any complaints. Splat. Har har.â
âEvery cloud anâ all that. Clean the lorry up then. Iâve gotta go help out Jeff and Steve.â
âWhatâs up there?â
âJeff turned left and Steve turned right. Ended up in the harbour.â
âAny comeback?â
âNah, harbour master was standing right in the way. Har har.â
âEvery cloud anâ all thatâŠâ
Childhood’s End
It’s Friday Fictioneers time! Ably hosted by Rochelle, a hundred or so flash fiction writers submit a story of roughly a hundred words. This week’s photo was provided by Jan Wayne Fields. This one led to a huge blank until my mind wandered down a path I rather wish it hadn’t. After much thought I’ve decided to publish it anyway.
To view the other stories for this week click on Bracken, the little blue chap below. More stories are added through the week so be sure to check back!
Copyright Jan Wayne Fields
The bureau desk had seen heavy use over the decades. Polished countless times by loving hands, its oak finish still gleamed in the light filtering through the bedroom blinds.
Fathers had balanced the bills at that desk. Mothers had written poems and children had penned journals. Down through the generations the bureau had been treated with love and care, a permanent fixture of the old house.
Now the varnish reflected blue flashing lights, the blood dribbling down the carved sides a grisly new addition, courtesy of a messy custody battle.
If he couldnât have the kids, the husband had figured, no-one could.
Dangerous Currents
It’s Wednesday and you know what that means – Friday Fictioneers! Hosted as always by the talented Rochelle, a hundred or so of us attempt to write approximately a hundred words in response to a photo, which this week has been provided by fellow Fictioneerer Björn Rudberg.
To read all the other stories (more are added throughout the week), click on Bracken, the little blue guy below.
Copyright Björn Rudberg
Frederick looked down from the dizzying height of the cliff. Far below he could see a house nestled against the cliff face and further still his target, the beach. He checked his parachute, took a deep breath and jumped.
Exhilarated by the buffeting wind, he reached to open his chute. Without warning a gust hit him square on, throwing him towards the house. A brief, agonising moment of pain, then blackness.
Meanwhile, inside…
âBill! Oi lost moi show! The pictureâs gone all snowy!â
âProbâly another one oâ them damn fool base jumpers impaled on the aerial again. Oiâll get the ladder.â
âThird one this week. Inconsiderate bastards.â
Coming Home
Here’s my contribution to Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100-ish word flash fiction challenge hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle. This week she contributed the photo herself!
As usual I glanced at the photo at lunch time and then just let my brain work away and do its thing. Except it didn’t. Finally I managed to come up with a story of sorts, which you can find underneath the photo!
To read all the other contributions (more are added throughout the week), click on the little blue fellow below.
Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The military transport sliced through the frigid air, winging its way home.
Home. The word always conjured up images of friends, family, familiar surroundings. Images of lush, rolling hills. Images of⊠normality. Safety.
No more arid desert. No more violent, unseen death waiting around every corner, behind every hill. No more stomach-churning spicy foods or bland combat rations.
He wasn’t there for his sonâs first day at âbig schoolâ. He had never seen his baby daughter. He had missed her first steps, her first words.
His family would be waiting for him at the airstrip, waiting to take his coffin⊠home.
Extinction
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, a weekly flash fiction challenge with a photo this week contributed by Marie Gail Stratford. As always, our 100 word fiction is overseen by Rochelle.
This week I drew inspiration from the rather witty words printed on the chopstick wrapper. To be honest, I have no idea what I’ve written, what genre it is or if it even makes much sense! Is it a damning indictment of Mankind? Maybe. Or maybe it’s a quirky story about cutlery. Quite how I got this out of a picture of a Chinese takeaway I don’t know.
To see this week’s other stories, click on the little blue fellow below.
Copyright Marie Gail Stratford
A cleverly-aimed chopstick could take out an eye â the Chopstick People had decimated the Spoon People â but an expertly-wielded fork could disembowel. The Fork People easily subdued those of the Chopstick.
Before long the Fork People fell to followers of the Knife, who fell in their turn. Progress, proliferation. Power was everything, desired, required.
At last came People wielding such utensils as had never before been seen. They used them on the Spoon People, the Chopstick, the Fork and the Knife. Finally, when all other People were destroyed, they used them on each other.
For such is the way of People.
An Unfortunate Choice of Lunch
It’s Thursday and high time for my entry for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100-ish word flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle.
This week’s photo has been contributed by fellow Fictioneerer Adam Ickes. To read the other contributions, click on the frog below.
My contribution this week is a bit random. But so’s the photo.
Copyright Adam Ickes
âHello?â came a voice. âI need the Browski file.â A head poked round the corner. âWhaaaa⊠youâre a⊠a⊠sheep!â
âIndeed!â smiled Kevin, Ram in Charge (records department). âNever fear. We love humans, us.â
âAbsolutely love âem, yes,â echoed the goat at the next desk.
Kevin handed the file over.
âUm, thanks, um,â said the newcomer, leaving quickly.
âLovely chap. I love humans, me,â said Kevin. âWhatâs for lunch today?â
âMe too, love humans!â The goat perused the menu. âItâs⊠oh shit, lamb chops.â
âBastards!â snarled Kevin, grabbing his shotgun and pumping a shell into the chamber. âDeath to the murdering human scum!â
âHuman scum!â echoed the goat.
Underbelly
Here we are on Thursday with Friday Fictioneers, the prompt for which was posted on Wednesday. Confused? Never mind, because it’s story time, hosted as always by Rochelle.
The photo which prompts our 100-ish word story this week was contributed by Kelly Sands and features big clouds over houses. But are they clouds? ARE THEY? Or are they actually Something More Sinister (dum dum dummmm)? My story this week is a bit nuts, so bear with me.
The other stories this week can be found by clicking on Bracken, the little blue froggy, below.
Here’s the photo of the clouds. OR ARE THEY CLOUDS? etc etc.
Copyright Kelly Sands
It came from Outer Space. NASA had pictures and everything.
One evening in late May it had appeared over the sleepy hamlet of Little Frimpton. The residents took it in their stride, as country folk often do.
âWhat be that, Jed? Looks loike clouds. But not clouds.â
âThat be the underbelly o’ one oâ them giant aliens, Jethro.â
âOh. âNother ale?â
In June it broke wind, hospitalising several members of the Little Frimpton Knitting Circle during a particularly complicated crochet demonstration. Gas masks were distributed to the villagers.
They could only hope that nothing more solid would follow. Though as one pragmatic farmer noted, âIt would be good fer moi fields.â
From Now Until Eternity
It’s Friday Fictioneers time! Our lovely host Rochelle is back at the helm, and this week’s photo has been contributed by Claire Fuller. Thanks, Claire!
To read this week’s other contributions, click on Bracken, the blue froggy, below.
Copyright Claire Fuller
Prince Ionus smiled to himself as the little band of adventurers crested the hill and crossed the plain. Excellent, he thought. It has been an age since I made new friends!
He watched as they approached the cave. Their triumphant yells became screams of terror as Medusa, emerging from the darkness, froze their limbs with her terrible gaze. Their screams now echoed only within the depths of his mind.
Ionus projected his thoughts outwards. Calm yourselves, my new friends. Learn to accept your situation. Soon we will exchange stories, but there is no rush. We have from now until eternity!
In the Name of Progress
It’s Friday Fictioneers time! Our host Rochelle is taking a break, but the show must go on and this week’s photo (originally a prompt from August 2012) has been contributed by Madison Woods.
To read all the other contributions click on Bracken, the little blue froggy.
Copyright Madison Woods
It had stood for countless ages. Wars had been fought around its trunk. Lovers had embraced beneath its branches. Countless generations of forest creatures had lived and died high in its canopy.
It had seen sunshine and rain, peacetime and dreadful war. It had witnessed good times and bad, famine and prosperity. It had survived the hottest of suns, the harshest of winters and the most furious of gales.
Centuries of memories lay embedded within its massive trunk. Rock, bone, metal.
The earth shook and the tree wept chlorophyll tears as the bulldozers drew closer.
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