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Highly Strung
It’s Friday Fictioneers time! And I’m actually posting on a Friday for a change.
For those of you new to Friday Fictioneers, our wonderful host Rochelle posts a picture and the rest of us write a (roughly) 100 word story, poem or whatever about it. This week’s photo was donated by fellow Fictioneerer Janet Webb. Thanks, Janet!
To read all the other stories, click here.
I have to admit my story is 107 words. I already cut a load out and I honestly can’t see how to cut out another 7 words without compromising the story. Sorry 😦 .
Copyright Janet Webb
Detective Turnbull looked around the gallery. He couldn’t decide if the sprays of blood adorning the art were an improvement. He shook his head.
“Not your thing, detective?” asked a uniform.
“Art? Huh. So, what happened?”
“The artist went nuts. Sliced some kid to bits with a palette knife, if you can believe that.”
“Do we know why?” asked Turnbull.
“Kid grabbed a sangria from over there. Apparently it was part of the ‘piece’. Bit high strung, this artist.”
“Okay.” Turnbull turned to the gallery owner. “We’ll get this blood cleaned up.”
“Are you mad? This is live art! I can sell this room for a fortune!”
CWG Week 7 Episode 20
It’s week 7 of Kerrie’s Chain Writing Game, and this week we see Hugh escaping from an “inescapable” prison (and the noose)! Where will he go? What’s the deal with Sarah and her insanely fast car?
Catch up with the story by clicking on the little blue froggy. My third contribution is below.
We’re seriously running out of time so I’m going to reluctantly speed things up a bit.
Hugh threw a grenade at the front door of the Senator’s house as Sarah took the rifle and found a vantage point nearby. The door exploded into fragments and Hugh ran inside. Halfway to the Senator’s study a guard appeared, weapon drawn.
Silhouetted against a window, the guard’s head was no match for Sarah’s bullet as she shot him from across the road.
Hugh burst into the Senator’s study to find him throwing papers into the open fire.
“Hold it, you wife-killing bastard!” snarled Hugh.
The Senator froze.
Outside, with a screech of tyres, Evan and Jeffrey pulled up, murder in their eyes.
The Last Sunrise
Here is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction. You can view all the 100-200 word stories by clicking on the blue froggy, and why not have a go yourself?
Simon and Shelley sat hand in hand on the hill top, looking out at the rapidly brightening sky.
“Is it true, do you think?” asked Shelley quietly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face.
“All contact with Australia was lost hours ago. Russia. Eastern Europe. All going quiet, one by one.”
“Maybe there’s some other explanation?”
Simon squeezed her hand. “It’s still half an hour to sunrise,” he said sombrely. “See how light the sky is already.”
Shelley nestled her head against him. He put his arm around her shoulders.
“Of all the scenarios we’ve seen in the movies – floods, global warming, alien invasion, even zombies – why did nobody mention this?” asked Shelley, sobbing.
“Maybe someone did,” replied Simon, eyes glistening with his own tears. “Maybe we didn’t see that film.” He hugged her closer.
“It’ll be one hell of a sunrise, though,” said Shelley.
Simon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
They were still sitting, holding each other tight when the sun rose. Once the bringer of life, it had turned on its children. The most titanic solar firestorm in Earth’s history accompanied the sunrise this morning, burning the planet clean.
CWG Week 7 Episode 14
It’s week 7 of Kerrie’s Chain Writing Game, and this week we see Hugh escaping from an “inescapable” prison (and the noose)! Where will he go? What’s the deal with Sarah and her insanely fast car?
Catch up with the story by clicking on the little blue froggy. My second contribution is below.
Back on the road, Hugh and Sarah hurtled past a junction.
“Shit!” swore Sarah. “Cops.”
Hugh glanced behind and saw the ominous flashing lights, distant yet but coming closer.
“What the hell kind of souped-up car are they driving?” exclaimed Sarah. “We’re doing well over a hundred!”
In the car behind, Jeffrey grinned at Evan.
“Keep goin’, we’ve nearly got ‘em!”
Their radio hissed. “All cars, fall back, the FBI has this one.”
Jeffrey flipped off the radio and grabbed a shotgun from the back seat. Up ahead, Hugh pulled the gun from under the seat and rolled down the window.
Evil Squirrel’s Competition – Where’s My Nuts?
Evil Squirrel over at the Nest is holding a competition! We get the chance to win UD$20 worth of squirrel-themed thongs, or some such, from his squirrel shop.
Squirrel-themed thongs, I hear you ask? No, I didn’t believe it either – click here for the proof.
According to the rules of the competition, the entry can be anything we like as long as it contains a squirrel, a possum and a unicorn. Sounds like the ideal opportunity to make a childish play on the word “nuts” to me (desperately hoping as I do so that it has the same slang meaning in the rest of the English-speaking world as it does in the UK).
So here is my cute little children’s story – “Where’s My Nuts?” (Warning – not suitable for children, unless they don’t know that “nuts” is slang for “testicles” in which case it’s fine.)
CWG Week 7 Episode 5
It’s week 7 of Kerrie’s Chain Writing Game, and this week we see Hugh escaping from an “inescapable” prison (and the noose)! Will he get out? Where will he go?
Catch up with the story by clicking on the little blue froggy. My first contribution is below.
Hugh knew how lucky he’d been, getting assigned to this cell. According to the plans he’d found, there were only three cells in the prison which backed onto the old sewerage system, this being one.
It had taken him months to work the mortar from between the concrete blocks, using careful modifications to his prison-issue toothbrush. Though his teeth were now rotting, he was out of his cell!
He lingered a moment, hearing Kurt and Jack panicking in his cell and smiled. Maybe they’d get fired. Scum.
Hugh crawled down the cramped tunnel, taking the turnings he’d memorised from the plans.
CWG Week 6 Episode 27
Here we are at week 6 of Kerrie’s Chain Writing Game! This week, Jadir has left the safety of his village and ventured over The Wall. What will he find?
Catch up with the story by clicking on the little blue froggy. My third contribution is below.
Jadir watched as the ships disintegrated. One of them, spewing black smoke, spun overhead, skipped off the top of the remains of the Wall and hurtled towards the fleeing figures of Camilla and Hamis. Jadir turned his back on the scene.
“What now?” he asked Eliya.
Eliya was staring at his eyes, the bright blue glow slowly fading.
“You truly are the chosen one!”
“Did you ever doubt it? What’s next? Let’s finish this.”
“This way,” replied Eliya, still awed. “Over that hill,” she pointed south, “is the fortress of the Ezreet. We finish this now.”
CWG Week 6 Episode 18
Here we are at week 6 of Kerrie’s Chain Writing Game! This week, Jadir has left the safety of his village and ventured over The Wall. What will he find?
Catch up with the story by clicking on the little blue froggy. My second contribution is below.
(Heh heh – I hope this is OK, I hit “publish” instead of “preview”. You should have heard me swearing 🙂 )
“You are the one. The ancient texts spoke of your coming. The Ezreet will fall at last – this is your destiny!”
“Destiny? I just wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. This is too much!” Jadir turned and ran back the way they had come.
“Wait!” shouted Eliya, chasing after him.
Jadir ran out of the cave to be confronted by a Terror Bird – it screeched and attacked. Jadir screamed, thrusting his hands out and watched, incredulous, as bolts of light shot from his fingers. The Terror Bird disintegrated with an astonished squawk.
“Now you understand,” said Eliya.
Storybook Corner – Baptism of Fire
This is a little story written for Adam Ickes‘ “Storybook Corner” – a 300-500 word monthly photo prompt. (Quick post-publish update – apparently this is my 200th post. Yay!)
No, that isn’t the photo – the photo is below. Be warned – my story is rather melancholy and dark and not in a funny way, but the photo is of a grave stone, after all.
You can read other submissions this month by clicking the little blue froggy. The prompt is open for a couple of weeks yet, so there’s still time to join in!
John sat on a pile of rocks, his shocked eyes staring at the carnage below. He felt numb, his brain unable to process the events of the last few hours. He reached into his jacket and fished out his pipes, his comfort, and put them to his lips. A mournful air sounded over the blood-drenched field.
It was to have been glorious! He had volunteered and presented himself at the local training camp along with Jed, his childhood friend. They had grown up together, always done everything together. It had seemed natural that they should embark upon this great adventure together.
They had been given a uniform, a sword, a musket and a hot meal. Then the training had begun. Musket first, then draw your sword. Defend yourself and the person on your right. Parry, thrust, one step forward, parry, thrust, one step forward. Hold the line. It all seemed so easy!
It hadn’t been that way at all. The moment battle was joined, everything had fallen apart. The air filled with acrid musket smoke, so thick he couldn’t see. Screams and the clashing of swords filled his head so that he couldn’t think. He tried to parry, thrust, step forward. He tried to hold the line, but all was chaos. He tried to defend the person on his right, but there was no-one there. Had they become separated, or was he dead? John didn’t know.
Though only a few minutes, it felt to John as if this carnage had lasted days. Shock at the terrible reality of battle replaced all coherent thought. He stumbled around as men screamed and fell. His sword, still unused, hung limply in his hand as he staggered left and right.
A figure appeared out of the smoke. Numbly John slashed his sword top to bottom as he’d been taught, feeling it cut through flesh. The smoke cleared for a moment, long enough for him to see Jed’s eyes open wide in shock as John’s sword sliced him open.
“I… couldn’t see, I… didn’t know,… I’m sorry, oh, Jed,” gasped John as Jed fell. John fell with him, cradling his friend’s head, sobbing.
John had awoken hours later, in a daze. The smoke had cleared, Everything was quiet. And now he sat numbly on a pile of rocks, playing his pipes.
He was only dimly aware of the approach of others. Friend or foe? He no longer cared. The song was cut short and the pipes tumbled down the rocks onto the blood-soaked grass as a sword sliced into his back and exited his chest.
His final thought as darkness fell – please don’t leave me here. Mark my grave. Remember me.
CWG Week 6 Episode 9
Here we are at week 6 of Kerrie’s Chain Writing Game! This week, Jadir has left the safety of his village and ventured over The Wall. What will he find?
Catch up with the story by clicking on the little blue froggy. My first contribution is below.
Jadir edged closer to the rope ladder and looked up to see a woman looking down at him. She was gesticulating, urging him to climb out of the pit, while keeping a wary eye on the two predators.
Jadir began to climb. As he reached the top he felt warm liquid spray across his back – the bear had ripped the bird’s head off, and was now moving toward the girl. She fished in a belt pouch and threw powder into the bear’s face. It gave a surprised growl, spun around and ran into a tree.
Jadir and the girl ran off through the woods.
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I totally didn't win!
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