Posts Tagged ‘Mondays finish the story’

MFTS – Chad and Brad Go Vamp

August 24, 2015 46 comments

Here is my contribution to Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. Today we find out what Chad and Brad, our favourite stoners, have been up to since last we saw them.

The supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story, and this week’s other stories can be found by clicking on the blue froggy.

Copyright B.W. Beacham

Copyright B.W. Beacham


The family had no idea that little Luigi would grow up to be… prematurely dead.

Neither did Chad and Brad when they visited their old friend hoping to score some weed. Everyone knew Luigi had the best in town.

While waiting for Luigi to fetch his stash, Brad stumbled across an old photograph.

“Dude!” said Brad. “Come look! It’s little Luigi!”

“Digging the cool retro costumes, Luigi,” said Chad, puffing on his spliff. “When was this taken?”

Luigi’s face turned dark. “1874,” he said. “Now my secret is out and you both must join me… in death. Bwahahahaha!” Luigi’s fangs extended and he attacked.

“Not again,” grumbled Brad, taking an extended puff of annoyance. “Ghosts, vampires…”

“Dude!” exclaimed Chad as Luigi leapt straight into the lit end of his joint.

As everyone knows, vampires and flames don’t mix. Luigi burst into flames.

“Oh man!” said Chad. “I torched Luigi! Sorry, dude.”

Luigi screamed and exploded.

“Not cool,” said Brad, wiping Luigi-ashes off his coat. “Come on, let’s find his stash. Finders keepers!”



MTFS – What Could It Be?

August 17, 2015 58 comments

Here is my contribution to Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. We get a photo, 150 words and an opening sentence, which is in bold in my story.

This week’s other stories can be found by clicking the blue froggy.

I have no idea what this photo is. Maybe the DraliFiction team have an idea? Let’s listen in…

Copyright B.W. Beacham

Copyright B.W. Beacham


“I see absolutely everything.”

“Well, I see absolutely nothing. What the hell is it?”

“Dunno. Could be a lizard, maybe? Or a fish?”

“Hmm, let’s see. A fishy story. Let’s brainstorm some titles. ‘Close Encounters of the Fishy Kind’.”

“’Rebel without a fish’.”

“’Live and Let Fish’.”

“Ha ha!”

“Ha ha! Or maybe it’s an alien?”

“What, like, ‘insert-name-here’ sneaks across the border, and pursued by police his only chance to survive is…”

“A space alien, dumbass.”

“I seriously doubt our Babs got an actual photo of an actual space alien. We would’ve heard. There would’ve been news stories, failed attempts to communicate, exploding cities, the last vestiges of humanity struggling to survive in a broken world and whatnot.”

“So we’re back to ‘fish’, then?”

“’Spose so. Typing fingers on standby? This is gonna be epic.”

“Ready to go! Bring on the epic.”

“Righty-ho… ‘Once upon a time there was a fish named Pete’…”

“Awesome opening, mate!”


MFTS – Trigger Happy

August 11, 2015 50 comments

It’s time for Mondays Finish the Story, Barbara Beacham’s photo/opening sentence challenge. This week’s topic was suggested by J.A. at Living Authors Society. The supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story below.

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

Copyright B.W. Beacham

Copyright B.W. Beacham


“Where did they go?”

“Don’t know,” replied Juan.

Pedro hefted his aged assault rifle. “I don’t like this. Everyone should be here. They said to come at once.”

“Perhaps the Iron Dogs killed them? They’ve always been jealous of our cartel’s success,” replied Juan.

They slipped closer, alert for any movement.

“Silent as the grave,” whispered Juan as they approached.

“I hope ‘grave’ is not an apt choice of words, my friend.”

The pair entered the open courtyard, trigger fingers twitching. Suddenly there was movement all around as yelling shapes jumped out of the shadows.


Taken completely by surprise, the pair’s combat training took over.


Bullets flew, blood sprayed in a red mist, bodies blew apart. In seconds it was over.

“Oh, shit,” said Juan, as a bullet-ridden banner proclaiming “Happy Birthday, Juan!” fluttered sadly to the ground.

Pedro picked his way through the carnage of Juan’s family to a trestle table. “Happy birthday, man. Cake?”


MFTS – All Drugged Up

August 3, 2015 51 comments

Here is my story for Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story – 150 words, a photo and a starting sentence (which is in bold in my story).

I really needed a ton more words for this one but hey ho.

Click on the froggy to read this week’s other stories.

Copyright B.W. Beacham

Copyright B.W. Beacham


The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.

The pile of bodies in the corner attested to the fact that “deadly” was well-earned. It could be so difficult to get the correct dosage.

However, their current subject didn’t appear at all fazed by his current situation, strapped to a chair as he was. In fact, he appeared to be quite enjoying himself.

“Dude, I can see rainbows! This is some crazy shit!”

“Three times lethal dose and it’s barely touched him!” muttered one of the thugs.

“Talk, Bradley!” shouted the other.

“I told you, dude, it’s Brad. Hey, unicorns!”

Meanwhile, in the corner, Chad shifted position. His ever-present joint had easily burned through the rope binding him.

“Hey, dudes, it’s my turn!” he announced. As the thugs charged him, he exhaled, breathing a cloud of “Chad and Brad’s special mix” right in their faces. The thugs collapsed and Chad and Brad wandered off, arms full of deadly nightshade. Happy times tonight!


* Note: Chad and Brad are professionals. Nightshade is not to be consumed!


MFTS – You Can Run, But…

July 28, 2015 49 comments

Here is my contribution to Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. We get an opening sentence (in bold in my story) plus 150 words to write a story in response to a photo.

Click on the froggy for this week’s other stories.


Copyright B.W. Beacham


He thought he found the perfect hiding spot.

“This’ll do,” thought Drexel, Imp of the Realm of Embarrassing Incidents. “He’ll never find me here!”

Not only had Drexel snuck out of the Netherhells, shifted realities and travelled half way across the universe, but he’d also found a handy curtain to hide behind.

“Finally free!” he thought. “They may send the Hounds of the Netherhells after me to eat my flesh. They may send the Renders of Doom to tear me limb from limb. They may even send the Gatekeeper of the Hopeless Realms to eat my brains. But all for nought. They will never find me! My plan is faultless, bwahahaha…”

“I SEE YOU!” boomed a voice from the other side of the curtain.

“Shit.” It was GRaw’Que Gan, the hideous and evil Prince of the Demesne of Unfortunate Mishaps.


Drexel covered his eyes with his paws. “One, two, three…”


MFTS – A Nice Story

July 21, 2015 50 comments

Here is my contribution to Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. I apologise that this is my second flash fiction of the day, but I have been leaving things rather late this past week.

The supplied sentence to go with the prompt picture is in bold in my story, and you can read this week’s other contributions by clicking on the blue froggy.


Copyright B. W. Beacham


The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.

“By Jove,” remarked Pinkerton-Smythe excitedly. “Look at this, Pendergast!”

The two smartly dressed gentlemen perused the carvings.

“On the right,” continued Pinkerton-Smythe, “we have an attack by wild animals, see there?”

Pendergast nodded.

“And here, look, concentric circles indicating the tribe’s wanderings to escape these attacks. Here they climb mountains in their trek – it seems as if they constructed ladders to help. We see them hunting as they walk, and here these squiggly lines, a river, undoubtedly.”

“I do see, old chap.”

“And here at last you see, bottom left, they arrive in a forest and make their home.”

“I say, this carving is exquisite! I must have it, Pinkerton-Smythe! You there, ten million for this!”


Five thousand years ago…

“Wumpa! What have I told you about doodling on your dad’s table top? He’ll be so mad! And where did you get that chisel? Put it back at once!”

“Aww, Mum, I bet it’ll be worth a fortune one day!”


MFTS – Second Chance

July 14, 2015 42 comments

Here is my story for Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. We get an opening sentence which this week was written by Martin Furman, and a photo courtesy of Barbara herself.

To read this week’s other stories click on the blue froggy. My story is a little longer than 150 words (sorry) but I did manage to get it down from nearly 200. The opening line (which isn’t part of the word count) is in bold in my story.

Copyright Barbara W Beacham

Copyright Barbara W Beacham


Delphine always wanted to pilot her father’s plane and when he forgot his keys on her tenth birthday, she knew that taking off would be easy.

Come to think of it, landing would also be easy. Dead easy. With an emphasis on dead. But Delphine didn’t come to think of it and now she was soaring through the air, staring at a bewildering array of controls.

“Come on,” she thought. “I’ve seen Daddy do this enough times.” Heart pounding, she eased the stick forward as the ground came closer, closer. “I’m going to do it!” she thought excitedly. “Daddy will be so proud of…”

Trephos, Angel-In-Charge of Juvenile Admissions climbed down off his cloud.

“Well,” he said, shaking his head. “Made a bit of a pig’s ear of that landing, didn’t we?”

Delphine nodded sadly.

“Let’s see,” he continued, reaching for a large ledger. “Wow! You’re our one trillionth customer! That means you get a second chance!”

Suddenly Delphine was back home, alive, staring at her Dad’s keys. She grabbed them and ran out the door.

“I think I know what I did wrong last time!” she thought excitedly as she ran towards the plane.


MFTS – Hedge Attack!

July 6, 2015 51 comments

Here is my contribution to Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham. This week it is using my opening line!

We get around 150 words to finish the story based on an opening sentence (in bold in my story) and a photo.

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


Copyright BW Beacham


The barista shook his head. That hedge couldn’t have moved closer overnight. Could it?

The next day it was half-way to the door. The barista rubbed his eyes but said nothing, fearing that the madness that had inflicted his late grandfather was taking hold.

Two days later, they were in the shop! Now everybody noticed. The barista’s relief that his sanity was intact was short-lived, however, as the hedge slithered towards him.

“Wha… what do you want?” he screeched, trembling.

“How rude!” said one of the hedge-people.

“Whatever happened to ‘Good morning, may I take your order’?” muttered another.

“Cappuccinos all round!” said a third. The barista breathed a sigh of relief. “And one more thing…” (the barista’s heart thumped in his chest) “… a plate of blueberry muffins!” The barista smiled and filled their order. All that worry and panic over nothing.

At their table, the hedge-people were talking.

“Lovely coffee, that!”

“Lovely. Delicious muffins!”

“Delicious! Right, everyone finished? Good. Okay, let’s kill these hedge-trimming human bastards. Who’s got the Huge Ball of Destruction?”


MFTS – Cruel and Unusual

June 29, 2015 55 comments

Here is my story for Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story. The supplied opening sentence is in bold in my story, and to read this week’s other contributions, click on the blue froggy.


Copyright B. W. Beacham


The Mayor and the town manager waved as their next victim approached.

But Agent Simon Wilkins had come prepared. He’d seen what had happened to the others who’d received an invitation. They wandered around town with dead eyes, occasionally clutching their heads screaming, “No more, please, no more!” before slipping once more into a listless half-dead state.

Simon adjusted his body armour. At the small of his back was a handgun. He had antidotes to every mind and mood-altering chemical known. He’d get to the bottom of this.

“Come in, dear boy, come in!” said the mayor jovially. Simon followed the mayor into his study where the town manager was waiting.

“Please, sit down,” said the mayor. Simon steeled himself, ready for action as the manager dimmed the lights.

As night fell, Simon lurched out of the house. Tears trickled from dead eyes as he joined the other townspeople in living death. Not even his Special Forces training had prepared him for five hours of the mayor’s holiday snap slide-show, with running commentary.


MFTS – Chad and Brad Make a Film (Almost)

June 23, 2015 24 comments

Here is my contribution to Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham. We get a photo, an opening sentence and 150ish words. Yes, Chad and Brad are back!

The opening sentence is in bold, and to read the other contributions, click on the blue froggy.


Copyright BW Beacham


“Hey boys, how ’bout y’all makin’ yer Ma some wind chimes?”

With those words she raises the vicious stick threateningly. Terrified, the exhausted boys crawl back to their workspaces in the tiny, sealed room and begin to build the wind charms with trembling fingers…

“Wait, wind chime sweat shops?” Chad grabbed Brad’s smoke and sniffed it suspiciously.

“Yeah, dude!” said Brad, grabbing his weed back and puffing furiously. “They’re rife! We have to make this film to raise public awareness!”

“There’s no such thing,” said Chad. “How about ‘Save the Whales’?”

“Why would we want to save Wales?” asked Brad.

“Dude,” said Chad sadly, puffing away furiously.

“‘Dream Catcher Sweats Shops – the Untold Story’?” tried Brad. Chad shook his head. Brad took another drag. Chad went to the “special” cupboard to fetch the bong.

“That’s it!” cried Brad. “Exposé – The Horrors of the Bong Sweat…”

“NO!” said Chad. “Dude, seriously. Let’s just watch a film instead.”

“Bill and Ted?” asked Brad hopefully.

“Party on dudes!” they chorused happily.