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The End of Days
I thought I would do a story for Sunday Photo Fiction this week, which is hosted by Al Forbes and asks for a story of around 200 words. The photo looked like fun! It’s a smidge over 200 words, sorry. I cut it down as much as I could!
To read the other stories, click on the blue frog.
With a flash of lightning and clap of thunder a dread figure appeared. All the Peoples of the Earth looked up in dismay.
“THIS IS THE END OF THE DAYS OF MAN!” it declaimed. All the Peoples of the Earth wept in fear.
“YOUR TIME AS A RACE HAS COME TO AN END!” it continued. Everyone cowered in terror. “TODAY IS YOUR LAST… huh?”
There was a faint ringing sound. The Peoples watched as the demonic figure tapped its ear.
“I’m a bit busy, can’t this wait?” it said in a more normal tone of voice. “Say what now? You’re kidding me… huh?… No, no, I’m not happy, this is unbelievable. Fire the intern! Bye, bye, goodbye, bye.”
“AHEM. PEOPLES OF THE EARTH, HARKEN! THERE HAS BEEN A SLIGHT COCK-UP IN THE COMMUNICATIONS DEPARTMENT.” The Peoples of the Earth shivered in confusion.
“ALLOW ME TO START AGAIN.” The figure cleared its throat. “THIS IS THE END OF THE DAYS OF DAN. IS THERE A DAN HERE?”
A small figure hesitantly raised its hand.
“AH, DAN, COME WITH ME, PLEASE. YOU’RE ABOUT TO HAVE A VERY BAD DAY. AS FOR THE REST OF YOU… I GUESS YOU’RE FINE. FOR NOW. FAREWELL!”
With another flash of lightning, both demonic figure and unfortunate Dan disappeared.
Poor Puff
I thought I’d have a go at Alastair’s Sunday Photo Fiction this week!
The rules say that we should mention if a story is “unsuitable for under 16’s”. I’m guessing not, I’ll just say there are drugs involved (nothing you won’t see in a daytime soap).
I’m guessing you know the history of “Puff the Magic Dragon” but here’s a link.
To see the other contributions, you can find them here.
Photo copyright Alastair Forbes
I was somebody back in the day. Doesn’t look like it now, eh? Well, I was.
Hung out with a guy called Paper. Little Jackie Paper. Dumb name, huh? Great guy though. Till he “grew up”. Left me high and dry inside my cave.
I tried to get work. I did. Amusement parks, TV appearances. But there was talk. Talk of drugs. There were no drugs, I tell you. But nobody believed me. Everywhere I went it was all “Hey, Puff, got any weed?” and “Yo, Puff, fancy a puff har har?”
So one day I just thought, “Okay, they all think I’m on drugs, I’ll do drugs.”
I smoked my first spliff. Heaven it was. I just drifted away. Good times!
They say weed is a “gateway” drug. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. For me, pretty soon I wanted something more. So I tried harder stuff.
The work dried up. I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t care.
So here I am, lying in a dirty squat at the ass-end of nowhere, spilling my guts out to you guys. And you ain’t even listening.
After you with the crack pipe.
The Last Sunrise
Here is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction. You can view all the 100-200 word stories by clicking on the blue froggy, and why not have a go yourself?
Simon and Shelley sat hand in hand on the hill top, looking out at the rapidly brightening sky.
“Is it true, do you think?” asked Shelley quietly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face.
“All contact with Australia was lost hours ago. Russia. Eastern Europe. All going quiet, one by one.”
“Maybe there’s some other explanation?”
Simon squeezed her hand. “It’s still half an hour to sunrise,” he said sombrely. “See how light the sky is already.”
Shelley nestled her head against him. He put his arm around her shoulders.
“Of all the scenarios we’ve seen in the movies – floods, global warming, alien invasion, even zombies – why did nobody mention this?” asked Shelley, sobbing.
“Maybe someone did,” replied Simon, eyes glistening with his own tears. “Maybe we didn’t see that film.” He hugged her closer.
“It’ll be one hell of a sunrise, though,” said Shelley.
Simon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
They were still sitting, holding each other tight when the sun rose. Once the bringer of life, it had turned on its children. The most titanic solar firestorm in Earth’s history accompanied the sunrise this morning, burning the planet clean.
Two For Dinner
A number of people I follow have been taking part in the Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. I was happy just reading their stories, but then I started to wonder what I might write if I were to give it a go. Then a story accidentally wrote itself in my head, so I typed it in when I got home and here it is!
The stories should be 100-200 words – I managed to sneak mine in at 199. Phew!
To read the other stories written for this photo, click on the little blue thingy below.
Samuel gazed at the scene before him in awe. A bridge arched gracefully over a cascading waterfall, which sent a fine mist into the air to sparkle in the sun, creating the most stunning mini-rainbows. Lush, green trees grew on either side and a wide expanse of grass stretched down to the water’s edge.
He thought of Lucy’s wide, innocent blue eyes, her glossy raven-black hair, her ready smile. He imagined the scene before him under the moonlight. He would led her gently to the water’s edge, sink to his knees before her…
Walking down into the shadow of the bridge, he took the ring out of his pocket, and smiled.
His phone rang. Annoyed by the intrusion, he answered it when he saw the caller’s name.
“Yes, Mother. I’ve found the perfect spot to propose. Tonight, Mother, I’ll ask her tonight!”
Still smiling, he put the ring back in his pocket and walked away.
A sound came from under the bridge.
“He’s getting away! Come on!” came a gruff voice.
“Wait! Didn’t you hear? He’s coming back tonight – with a friend,” came a second.
“So?”
“So… why have one for lunch when you can have two for dinner?”
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