Hello and welcome to this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted as always by Rochelle. This week’s 100 word photo prompt has been supplied by fellow Fictioneerer Janet Webb, and you can check out the other entries here. I’m getting later and later with this, as I have “things on my mind” which I may post about at a later date (except I’m trying not to think about it too much).
I must admit, I’ve trickled over into 102 words this week. However, I’m safe in the knowledge that I could swap my two uses of “any more” for the modernised form “anymore” (which is annoying the spell checker as it’s technically incorrect in UK English), which would cut it down to 100 🙂
Copyright Janet Webb
“Hey Dad, what’s up with Uncle Bert, all alone over there?”
“He’s sulking. He doesn’t like the wet stuff. He doesn’t like getting his wheels wet. He’s worried he’ll rust.”
“Where did all the flesh-things go? Did they rust?”
“Maybe. Or maybe they melted. They never looked very hardy to me.”
“Where did all the wet stuff come from?”
“Full of questions today, aren’t you? I heard it used to be solid. Then everything warmed up and now it’s all wet and it’s everywhere.”
“So why are we here, Dad? Do we have a purpose?”
“Not any more, son. Not any more.”
draliman on life 
Not Any More
Hello and welcome to this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted as always by Rochelle. This week’s 100 word photo prompt has been supplied by fellow Fictioneerer Janet Webb, and you can check out the other entries here. I’m getting later and later with this, as I have “things on my mind” which I may post about at a later date (except I’m trying not to think about it too much).
I must admit, I’ve trickled over into 102 words this week. However, I’m safe in the knowledge that I could swap my two uses of “any more” for the modernised form “anymore” (which is annoying the spell checker as it’s technically incorrect in UK English), which would cut it down to 100 🙂
Copyright Janet Webb
“Hey Dad, what’s up with Uncle Bert, all alone over there?”
“He’s sulking. He doesn’t like the wet stuff. He doesn’t like getting his wheels wet. He’s worried he’ll rust.”
“Where did all the flesh-things go? Did they rust?”
“Maybe. Or maybe they melted. They never looked very hardy to me.”
“Where did all the wet stuff come from?”
“Full of questions today, aren’t you? I heard it used to be solid. Then everything warmed up and now it’s all wet and it’s everywhere.”
“So why are we here, Dad? Do we have a purpose?”
“Not any more, son. Not any more.”