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No Second Chances
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers, which is announced on a Wednesday but dated on a Friday – so this week I am both a day late and a day early.
Time confusion! And that is the subject of today’s story. Which, I admit, is a bit confusing especially now that I had to remove 50 words to get even close to the 100 word target. But that’s time travel for ya! Confusing.
This week’s photo was provided by fellow Friday Fictioneerer Claire Fuller. I got to thinking about who might be inside and what they might be doing.
Rochelle is our host here at Friday Fictioneers club. Why not give it a go yourself? Click on the little blue frog to see all the other contributions.
“These are the space/time coordinates. Pretty unassuming for the workshop of the man who is about to create time-travel.”
“Everyone changing the past, destabilising the time stream. We stop it now, before it begins.”
The Time Agents threw their grenades into the workshop.
Time travel was never created so…
… Time Agents never came back to kill the creator of time travel so…
… time travel was created so…
… Time Agents came back to kill the creator so…
The Universe stalled and… paused. Earth vanished, seven billion people deleted from history. The Universe resumed, the temporal paradox erased.
The Universe is good at correcting mistakes. No second chances.
Sharing My World Week 7
I’m supposed to be packing and disassembling furniture and whatnot. I don’t think I’ll have time to write my usual flash fictions but I didn’t want to miss sharing my world (hosted by Cee of Cee’s Photography Blog – check it out!), especially since it’s all about couch potatoes, so I’ll quickly bang this out and then get on with my house move.

What is your favourite couch potato activity: readings, watching movies, watching sports, napping, anything on TV, computer games, play cards, or other?
Yes.
What is your favourite toppings on pizza?
Mmm, pizza. Cheese, pepperoni, cheese, chilli beef, chillies, cheese, cheese, ham and not forgetting cheese. Plus half a bottle of Tabasco sauce.
Mmm, extra cheese.
What is is favourite genre of movie or book?
Fantasy/swords and sorcery (eg Terry Brooks, David Eddings, Raymond E. Feist, James Barclay, Elizabeth Moon), urban fantasy (eg Kim Harrison, Ilona Andrews), sci-fi (eg Elizabeth Moon again), cool and clever humour (eg Janet Evanovitch, Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams).
Do you prefer eating the frosting of the cake first?
Both together. That’s why they’re both on the cake. Mmm, cake.
The Time of Reconciliation
Dr Franklin was walking through the town’s plaza with his official Guide, enjoying the warmth of Tranek Major’s twin suns when the bells rang.
“What’s that all about?” he asked.
“It is the Time of Reconciliation. For exactly one hour in every month, the Rule of Law is suspended for those who have filed an official Tak’reh, or grievance, against another. Some talk things through, though violence is not uncommon. Some deaths are inevitable.”
“By the Mercies, that’s madness!” exclaimed Franklin. Looking around he saw some people arguing. In the distance a couple were hitting each other.
The Guide shook his head sadly. “And still you continue to insult our ways. Did you not read the Rules of Entry upon your arrival at the spaceport?”
“I assumed it was the usual stuff,” replied Franklin. “No hats to be worn on the day of rest, don’t walk on the grass, that sort of thing, common to a dozen different worlds.”
“Indeed, one would not wish to walk on the grass. Incurring a Tak’reh from the Department of Parks is inadvisable. One finds that they have long memories, short tempers and all manner of sharpened gardening implements.”
“Mercies above!” Franklin exclaimed.
“And when I took you into my home and you complained about the room I gave you, did I not once again exhort you to read the Rules of Entry?”
Franklin’s face went ashen.”You, uh, didn’t file one of these Tak’reh things against me for that, did you?”
“Of course not! You are a visitor to our world after all, and I am above such minor indiscretions.”
Franklin’s look of relief changed to wide-eyed shock as he looked down at the knife protruding from his chest.
“However,” continued the Guide, “you insulted my wife’s cooking. I’m afraid that won’t do, Dr. Franklin. No, that won’t do at all.”






