draliman on life

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s picture was sent in by Roger Bulltot.

I hope my story works okay, I had to cut a lot out 😦

To read this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Roger Bulltot

“What is this, oh Ghost of Future?”

“This is your manor two hundred years from now. Broken, dilapidated, your family living in poverty.”

“What must I do, oh Ghost?”

“Stop being a doormat! Take control!”

“I will, I will! I shall start whipping the servants immediately!”

“Good.”

With that, the “ghost” vanished, appearing two hundred years later inside a very well appointed mansion. He stepped out of the time bubble and looked around.

“Well, that worked.”

A drop of water dribbled through the ceiling. He checked his bank balance and frowned.

“Hmm, now to do something about great-grandfather’s investment portfolio…”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo was contributed by Jan Wayne Fields.

I had real trouble with this one 😦 . Here is what I ended up with.

For this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Jeremy scowled into his beer. Three days they’d been here and he hadn’t shot anything. Fairground fun for the kids, hunting for Dad. Huh.

Hearing a crashing in the bushes he grabbed his hunting rifle. The foliage parted to reveal a bear! Taking aim, he fired. The bullet ripped through the bear’s head.

Stuffing flew everywhere.

“Muuuummmy! Daddy shot Teddddyyyyy!”

“For God’s sake, Jeremy, how could you be so stupid? And reckless? She only just won that!”

“Thought it was coming at me,” mumbled Jeremy.

“It’s wearing a bow tie!”

“I’m still gonna strap it to the front of the car.”

“Whaaaaaaa!”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle, who also provided this week’s photo.

For this week’s other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The world had ended.

Plants and flowers withered and died, their once-delicate scent now pungent, cloying. The wind, foul, biting, left an almost chemical aftertaste. The few people still out hurried past, eyes downcast, lifeless. Animals slunk into darkened corners, seeking refuge.

The world had ended. For Shelley Smith.

“He’s dumped me, Mum! He was the one, I swear! I’ll never love anyone else! Not ever!”

She ran into her little en-suite and slammed the door, all tears and sobbing.

“What’s that, the third one this month?” Mum shook her head.

“And there’s still more month left,” replied Dad. “Teenagers!”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo comes from CE Ayr.

To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright CE Ayr

Makre’dev, his antennae twitching in anticipation, removed the activation keys from his pouch. Decades marooned on this miserable Earth planet; at last salvation was at hand.

He carefully eased the first key into the bottom receptacle. Glancing at his co-pilot, Colp’ee, he placed the second key into the receptacle above before placing his head in the largest hole for retinal scan. He awaited activation.

Nothing happened. He waited some more.

“This isn’t it, is it?”

“Why the Grock did you think it was a good idea to disguise our space-pod as a rock?”

“Well, you’re the one who forgot where we parked!”

Here is my little story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson.

Can anyone tell which dialogue belongs to the man in this tale? 🙂

To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Dale Rogerson

“All these damn boxes and a plant as well. I can hardly see the telly!”

“Well, dear, you could always get up off your backside and help me unpack.”

“Go straight for the nuclear option, why don’t you. ‘Get up, shift stuff’. I’m not well and I’ve already had a hard day at work.”

“Well so have I! And I’m not complaining.”

“You’re not ill. I’m ill. I’m probably dying.”

Oh please, God, let it be true…

“What? What was that?”

“Nothing, dear. Now, if you want to watch the telly, move the boxes.”

“Stuff this. I’m going down the pub.”

“Men!”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by J Hardy Carroll.

To read the other stories, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright J Hardy Carroll

“What’s that, Dad?”

“A phone, Son.”

“Whaaaat? It’s huge!”

“It is, Son. Let me show you how it works. Smell that?”

“Urgh, yes.”

“That’s wee. And that stickiness under your shoe? Chewing gum. Now, grab the phone book.”

“There’s loads of pages missing!”

“Par for the course, Son. And ignore all the cards offering “a good time”. Now, lift the big black thing, take this coin and put it in the slot.

“It keeps falling through, Dad.”

“Common problem. But that doesn’t matter. See the end of the cord?”

“It’s been ripped off, Dad.”

“Yep! Ah, the good old days…”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. The photo was contributed by Kent Bonham.

Click on the blue froggy for other stories this week.

Copyright Kent Bonham

“A nice big car, yes…”

“Indeed! So, interested?”

“Hmm, yes, good acceleration, a nice big boot, large enough for two of my enemies simultaneously…”

“For your whaaat…?”

“My shopping, yes, as I said, large enough for my shopping.”

“Um, and very economical to run…”

“Yes, economical, yes, who needs to have to keep stopping for petrol during the kidnappings?”

“The whaaaa…?”

“During the school run, as I said, the school run, yes? Let’s talk Shekels.”

“Listen, take it, just don’t hurt…”

“Nonsense! Here is a suitcase full of untraceable non-consecutive banknotes, yes? Goodbye!”

Vrooom.

“Man. I hate selling to politicians.”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Janet Webb.

I have unashamedly combined violence, social commentary and fantasy to come up with something a bit surreal!

To read the other stories for this week, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Janet Webb

Sorcerer Gordak regarded his receptacle of fairy dust with glee. Spotting movement from the corner of his eye he quickly grabbed the luckless sprite. As it screeched in agony he crushed it between fingertip and thumb, wringing its shattered body and allowing the fairy dust to fall into…

“Whoa, dude, how is this ‘an enjoyable fantasy romp suitable for all ages?’”

“Kids are desensitised to violence these days. They’ve seen worse on YouTube.”

“Huh, true. Write in some more gore.”

Lurking in the corner, fairy scout Jinglebeenz read the words, mistook them for a battle plan, drew his sword and attacked.

Here is my little story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was also contributed by Rochelle.

I hope you enjoy it, it has sound effects 🙂

To read this week’s other story, click on the blue froggy.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Broom broom screeeeeeeeech!

“Planned to perfection. The ultimate heist. Entry codes obtained. Guards neutralised. Doors opened. Vaults cracked. A fortune in our hands. A fortune! And then you drive the getaway car along a road it won’t fit down! I can’t even open the doors. We’re stuck. I can hear the police closing in!”

Wee-wah wee-wah.

“Relax, dude. I’ve tricked this car out. Ejector seats. Hang on to your hat!”

Click.

“Five…”

“Is this a good time…”

“Four…”

“… to mention…”

“Three…”

“… that this car…”

“Two…”

“… still has…”

“One…”

“… its roof on?”

Whoomp! Splatter.