draliman on life

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

In the following story, names have been changed to protect any real (or imagined) businesses who may or may not be good/bad/indifferent to the environment 🙂

Tired, the man sat on the trunk, not noticing the peeling bark, the mottling on the wood. The stump was diseased.

Spores penetrated his skin. His arms, his legs, his whole body was growing bark, leaves!

He was becoming… Tree Man!

He would become an eco-warrior without equal!

“What happened Dad, what happened?”

“Well, son, just as he began his eco-campaign someone chopped him down to build a MacDoonald’s.”

“Aw, Daaaadddd!”

“Go to sleep, son. And remember my words.”

Years later, the son became one of the world’s premier climate change campaigners. Until someone unfortunately bulldozed him over to build a Burrgerr King.

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

I couldn’t really think of a story but I didn’t want to miss a week.

“Send in the report, Haversham.”

“But there’s nothing to report, Sarge. Can’t we go home?”

“We were told to conduct surveillance on this area, Haversham. That’s what we’ll do.”

“It seems like we’ve been here forever. I’m sure there used to be more cars and people and less forest outside when we started.”

“Ours not to reason why.”

“I never used to be this old. And look at Ken. He’s all skin and bone. Well, mostly bone. I think they’ve forgotten we’re here.”

“We do our duty, Haversham. We’ve got movement. ‘Squirrel in tree 90 metres north of location.’ Note it down, man, note it down!”

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

It happened overnight.

There was no wind. No storm. No vandalism.

Two of the three trees simply fell down. Ripped out by the roots.

Once upon a time (as all good fairy tales begin) they called these ‘The Peace Trees’.

‘As long as the three stand, the future is assured,’ so the story goes. Or words to that effect.

Two down, one to go.

One minute to doomsday?

But the old stories are gone and no-one even suspects. Except maybe old Granny Wilkins. She has “the sight”, they say.

But no-one ever believes her.

Until it’s too late.

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

“Welcome back to ‘Forest Cabins of Horror’. It’s quiet… too quiet? What will we find? A strangled hobo? A mutilated college student? The castrated corpse of a cheating husband? Let’s open the door…”

Creeeeak

“…and we find… nothing! It’s empty. Well, this is a real ratings killer. Fred, come here!”

“Coming, Bob, what do you need? What are you doing with that knife? No… no… aaaargh!”

“Jeez, Bob, you killed him! You… bleurgh!”

“Jeff, stop vomiting and pick up the camera. Action! …and inside we find the fresh body of a young male. He appears to have been stabbed only moments ago…”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson. The image is copyright Dale Rogerson – for some reason it’s not letting me add a caption 😦

“We’re here to speak with local business owner, Jimmy Nutjob. Mr Nutjob, tell us about this huge sphere.”

“It generates the electricity for my snack stall.”

“Why so big?”

“It’s the smallest size it comes in, according to ‘Nuclear R Us’.”

“Nuclear? Is that cost-effective?”

“Well… it generates six million times more electricity that I need. And it cost two billion pounds. Not sure how I’ll ever pay off the loan, to be honest.”

“And that red flashing light?”

“Dunno, never read the manual. One sec… ‘meltdown imminent, evacuate area’. What’s that mean? Hello? Hello? Hey, come back, we’re not finished!”

Bang

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

“Gears to neutral, handbrake on, engine off, and… we’ve arrived!”

“Jesus.”

“So… did I pass?”

“Did you pass?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No. No, you didn’t pass.”

“Aw, man! That’s the seventeenth time I’ve failed. What was it? Was it the roundabout? I should have waited, right? It was the roundabout, wasn’t it?”

“No. It wasn’t the roundabout.”

“The junction, then. I was a bit late with the indicators. Was it the junction?”

“No. It wasn’t the junction.”

“So what was it then?”

“The wall.”

“The wall? What wall?”

“And your eyesight, apparently. This wall. Right here. Good day.”

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

“It is the power of the mind. The bug hasn’t seen the 30,000 volt warning. It believes it will be okay. Therefore, it alights on the cable and is unharmed.”

“Your logic is flawed, mate.”

“I too believe that I will not be harmed.”

“See, unlike the bug you would also be touching the ground, creating a potential difference…”

“I cannot be harmed!”

“… so you’d be killed, basically.”

“I grab the cable! I believe aaaaarrrrrrrgghhhhhhh!”

bzzzz crackle fizz whooomp burn burn crackle burn

“Wow. That’s one heck of a blaze. Has anyone got any marshmallows?”

…

…

“Too soon?”

Here is my story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. This week’s photo was contributed by Na’ama Yehuda.

“Look there, Son, the remnants of New York, its skyscrapers gone, destroyed by GMMMGs.”

“GMMMGs?”

“Genetically-Modified Massively-Mutated Giraffes. See them on the horizon, towering over the destruction.”

“What happened?”

“Bred for food, but everyone loves giraffes. No bugger would eat them. They escaped and ran amok.”

Ooooh Gaaaaawd, we didn’t know. WE DIDN’T KNOW!

“As Mr Melodrama says, it was a huge mistake. Now we live at sea, starving. But never fear, once the genetically-modified massively-mutated dolphin programme reaches fruition, food for everyone!”

Huh. I love dolphins. I’m not eating dolphins.
Me neither. Not gonna eat Flipper.

Lesson NOT learned!

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

The smells of street cooking filled his nostrils. His mouth watered.

But he wasn’t there to eat. He had a job to do.

He slipped through the crowd, unnoticed, a ghost. Target in sight.

Sliding close, he slipped his hand into his pocket. So quickly that none noticed, he had written the ticket and slapped it on the bike.

Bike chained to railings, in contravention of city bylaw 1254 section 2 paragraph 4? Not on his watch.

The angry owner arrived.

“Sorry, mate, nuffin’ I can do, the ticket’s wrote now innit, guv’nor, more’n my job’s werf.”

Another job well done.

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

For sale, one pre-fab house, £1000 ono complete with floor safe (broken)…

Three days earlier…

“Well, Baz? Did you get the safe?”

“It was bolted to the floor, boss.”

“Okay, so did you crack it in situ?”

“In where boss?”

“Did you open it and nick the contents?”

“Couldn’t boss. Too tough. So we brought it with us.”

“I thought you said it was bolted to the house?”

“Yeah. We brought the house too.”

“You what? Idiot!”

“What’ll we do boss?”

“Crack the safe and… stick the house on eBay. Double win! I take it all back. Nice job, Baz!”

“Thanks, boss!”