draliman on life

Here is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers for this week, ably hosted by Rochelle over at Addicted to Purple. The photo this week was contributed by Stephen Baum.

My problem this week was too many ideas, but none of them “worked”. So for a change I started writing and just added bits now and then until I finished :-).

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

Copyright Stephen Baum

Harold had always suffered from tunnel vision, so it came as a surprise to no-one when he failed to notice the oncoming 0945 Kings Cross to Edinburgh express.

Drifting towards the light, he reflected on his life. People conned. Shops lifted. Speed limits smashed.

Oh, and that chap in the Golden Dragon he stabbed to death with a chopstick.

He wasn’t surprised when he arrived and found it quite hot and somewhat “flamey”. He was surprised to see a sign reading “Closed For Business by Court Order” above the door.

Apparently, there’s nothing Hell could contrive that humans haven’t already done, so it was shut down. It’s a copyright thing.

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Jean L. Hays.

I have attempted to recreate the language of the “youff of today”. Unfortunately I’m (ahem ahem) years too old, and when I was a kid, kids didn’t talk like this. Maybe they still don’t!

(I’ve made a reference in my story – it is said that when the apes leave the Rock of Gibraltar, so will the British, so it implies the end of something.)

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

Copyright Jean L. Hays

“Yo, bitches, get gone, I need ta talk ta ma girl!”

All but one of the girls gave her a surly look and moved away.

“So, girl, wuzzup? What dis ‘bout yo man Jazz?”

“Me ‘n Jazz still good, yo. Why, what ya heard?”

“Seen, girl. Seen. I seen Jazz wiv his old squeeze, and dey look happy.”

“No way! Me ‘n Jazz is solid! Solid like da Rock o’ Gibraltar, ya dig me?”

“Da monkeys is leavin’ da Rock. You got ya head in da sand, girl.” She walked away, shaking her head. “Head in da sand.”

So here’s the thing. My head’s been all over the place today and yesterday evening. No concentration or motivation.

I’ve been reading and clicking “like” on people’s FF stories but not commenting – apologies to you guys for that. I had no idea what to write for this week’s Friday Fictioneers (hosted as always by the talented Rochelle). I decided to give it a miss.

Then I wrote a story based around not having a story. I’ve seen people do that from time to time. It would be a shame to miss a week, I thought. So here it is  :-(.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Did you ever have an idea, a great idea, so awesomely fantastic that more than being just a light bulb moment, it was a whole chandelier full of light bulbs?

And did you ever think to yourself, “Well, I’m quite tired after all that thinking, so I’ll sleep on it”?

And did you ever wake up next morning knowing that you’d had an amazing idea, like it was some new propulsion system or the cure for the all world’s ills, but that’s all you remember?

Like, I’m sure I had a great chandelier-based story in mind last night. Awesome, it was. You’ll have to use your imagination.

It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, hosted by Rochelle, and this week the photo was contributed by Raina Ng. We get around 100 words to write about a picture, and you can read this week’s other stories by clicking on the blue froggy.

Be afraid. Be very afraid, as I present to you “The Diner of DOOM”.

Copyright Raina Ng

Kat and Jed exchanged anxious glances as they hid behind the diner’s counter. Outside the noise was getting worse – banging on the door and windows, groaning, breaking glass.

“They’re still out there. What are we going to do?” asked Kat, trembling.

“What can we do? Call someone? Who’s going to come? We’re on our own.”

“Barricade the doors,” said Kat. “If they get in here… it’ll be carnage.”

“We could distract them. Throw them some burgers.”

“Urgh! The thought of watching them mindlessly rip into the meat…” shuddered Kat. “Animals!”

“Well,” said Jed, “it was your idea to do a Student Happy Hour.”

It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, the weekly 100 word photo prompt hosted by Rochelle. Congratulations are due this week on the new arrival to the Pendergast family :-).

The photo this week was contributed by C. Hase, and the other stories will appear during the week on the page reached by clicking the blue froggy below.

Copyright C. Hase

Life Without Parole

Trapped. Hemmed in. Chained down. How has it come to this? Can’t breathe…

I can’t breathe!

Sweat trickling down my face. I feel so closed in. Helpless.

So much I’ll never do again. And so many things I’ve never done. That fishing trip with the lads we planned but never got around to. Watching tennis at Wimbledon. Climbing Mount Everest. Running a marathon. So many opportunities wasted.

Help me, somebody. Take me away from here! How has this happened? How…

“Sir? Sir?”

“Uh, yes, sorry. Ahem. I do.”

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Here is my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100 word flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle at Addicted to Purple. This week’s photo comes to us courtesy of Santoshwriter.

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

Copyright Santoshwriter

She cried for the pain she felt, for the helplessness. She cried for her lost childhood, her forgotten innocence. Her mother knew, had to know, and she cried that the one person who should have protected her had failed, had ignored what was happening.

She hefted the package the stranger had handed her. Squat, black, ugly, magazine fully loaded. A means to an end. She headed home, noticing in passing her tears glistening on the leaves in the early morning sunlight, reflecting rainbows of colour.

How can my misery create such beauty? she wondered, tucking the pistol into her waistband.

It’s time once again for my contribution to Friday Fictioneers, the weekly flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was supplied by Dee Lovering.

Apparently my story last week was “a bit dark”, so this one is a bit lighter :-). So here is my idyllic honeymoon story, ably aided by the inestimable Freddy Mercury.

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

Copyright Dee Lovering

“We’re here!” smiled Rex, bursting into song. “Baarrrcelo-onaaa, it was the first time that we met…”

“Quiet! People are staring!” His new wife looked embarrassed.

“Barcelo-onaaa, how can… ow! Ow!” Rex struggled to fend off Cassie’s handbag.

“Finished? Where’s this honeymoon cottage you booked, then?”

“Lisbon.”

“What? Why are we in Spain?”

“No idea,” smiled Rex. “I wondered at the time why you were booking tickets to Spain.”

“WE’RE IN THE WRONG COUNTRY!”

“Yes! Ah, Barcelona, home to… ow! Ow!”

An old couple watched them from a nearby café.

“Ouch, nasty,” commented the woman.

The man nodded sympathetically. “Must be married, love. I recognise the signs… ow! Ow!”