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Silver Lining
I can hardly believe that it’s time for Friday Fictioneers again, but it is! This week’s photo has been contributed by Dawn Q. Landau, prompting us to write a 100-ish word story. Friday Fictioneers is hosted as always by the lovely Rochelle.
I have to admit, I have no real idea what this photo is of. It looks to me like an aerial view of fields, but with a huge person standing there!
To read this week’s other contributions, click on the little blue chap below. More stories are added throughout the week!
Copyright Dawn Q. Landau
Javik scrambled out of the way as the aged giant tottered across the field. Marick wasn’t so lucky, disappearing with a grisly crunch in a cloud of red mist beneath the giant’s uncaring feet.
A few more steps and the monstrous figure, evidently hard of sight, lost its footing and fell from the cliff. A huge cloud of dust signalled the creature’s landfall.
Javik counted himself fortunate, more fortunate than the mangled villagers at the base of the cliff. When, hours later, he reached the bottom he smiled as he watched the survivors cut meat from the corpse. No-one would starve this winter.
An Adventure to Die For
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers, so here’s my contribution!
Hosted by Rochelle, this week’s photo prompt has been provided by Janet Webb. Thanks, Janet!
Click on the little blue chap below to see all the other contributions, as they are added during the week.
Copyright Janet Webb
Through the portal lay a room, a room Marlon had discovered existed over 200 years in the past. He checked his clothing – the costume shop had assured him that it looked authentic. He was ready.
His anticipation reaching fever pitch, he stepped through. A keen historian, he was determined that this, his second trip, would be an adventure to die for.
“See, loike oi said, yer honour!” came a woman’s voice as he materialised. “Witch!”
Further cries of “Witch!” were accompanied by flaming arrows, throwing Marlon’s body back through the portal.
“A truly 18th Century death!” thought Marlon as the flesh melted from his bones.
Memories
Here’s my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers, a 100-ish words challenge hosted by Rochelle. This week she contributed the picture as well!
To read the other entries, click on the little blue chap below.
Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Carlos looked deep into the fire, hypnotised by the tongues of flame. His mind drifted back to candlelit dinners with Sally, watching the fire together. Sharing everything, one mind, one heart. But…
… she had hated his job. They had argued, every day towards the end. His job was important, he told her. Someone had to do it. In the end their love hadn’t been enough.
A groan brought him back to the present, back to his job. He pulled a coal from the fire and placed it under his victim’s chin, pushing the head down, and smiled. He loved to hear the screams before the vocal chords burned away.
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 🙂 .
Click on Bracken, the little blue fellow, to see this week’s other contributions.
“Trust me, this stuff is fine! Hmm, tastes a bit rank.”
“It looks gross. How you know it’s good to eat?”
“It says so in the ‘Fruits of the World’ book. See? Ugh, it’s all crunchy.”
“’Curved and yellow in colour, a good source of potassium. Peel before eating.’ Sounds like a banana. That’s not right. Look, there’s a page missing. It’s been ripped out.”
“Oh. I wonder what the description for this was?”
“Gross, do not eat? I’ll Google it. Here it is. Oh.”
“I can’t feel my feet. Everything’s going dark.”
“If anything were to happen to you, could I have your Xbox?”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
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
“What’s with the foliage?”
“It’s decoration.”
“It’s not, though, is it?”
“We drove through a hedge.”
“Huh?”
“At a junction, Bill turned left and I turned right. The lorry went straight on. It’s these stupid dual steering wheels.”
“Any comeback?”
“Nah. Hedge owner was standing right in the way. He won’t be making any complaints. Splat. Har har.”
“Every cloud an’ all that. Clean the lorry up then. I’ve gotta go help out Jeff and Steve.”
“What’s up there?”
“Jeff turned left and Steve turned right. Ended up in the harbour.”
“Any comeback?”
“Nah, harbour master was standing right in the way. Har har.”
“Every cloud an’ all that…”
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 couldn’t 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…
“Bill! Oi lost moi show! The picture’s gone all snowy!”
“Prob’ly another one o’ them damn fool base jumpers impaled on the aerial again. Oi’ll get the ladder.”
“Third one this week. Inconsiderate bastards.”
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 son’s first day at “big school”. 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 – the Chopstick People had decimated the Spoon People – 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
“Hello?” came a voice. “I need the Browski file.” A head poked round the corner. “Whaaaa… you’re a… a… sheep!”
“Indeed!” smiled Kevin, Ram in Charge (records department). “Never fear. We love humans, us.”
“Absolutely love ‘em, yes,” echoed the goat at the next desk.
Kevin handed the file over.
“Um, thanks, um,” said the newcomer, leaving quickly.
“Lovely chap. I love humans, me,” said Kevin. “What’s for lunch today?”
“Me too, love humans!” The goat perused the menu. “It’s… oh shit, lamb chops.”
“Bastards!” snarled Kevin, grabbing his shotgun and pumping a shell into the chamber. “Death to the murdering human scum!”
“Human scum!” echoed the goat.
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