Stuffed Bald Eagle–Trophy

This week’s Friday Fictioneers picture prompt from Krista Strutz, showing an Eagle, is a reminder to me of the constant struggle in Scotland. The Golden Eagle and numbers of other birds of prey are in decline and the efforts to encourage them to flourish are not popular. The birds prey on game, partridge and grouse, and sometimes young lambs and the idea of striking a balance between the wildlife and people’s livelihood is controversial.

PHOTO PROMPT © Krista Strutz 

Stuffed Bald Eagle–Trophy

John stood transfixed and his heart rate fluttered.
At first, he let the paddle board drift as he watched the eagle land so close.
The magnificent creature stared at him, as if deciding whether he was a threat.

He remained calm and tried to hold the board against the current. He had never been so close to a Bald Eagle, and he savoured every second.
Some people would pay a fortune for this trophy stuffed and on display.

Would people believe him? He wanted to shoot it and prove them wrong.
However, he had left his camera-kit in the car. 

Village Hay and Bread

There is a sense of a peaceful country village in this week’s picture from Sandra.

A place where everyone knows each other and rumours and gossip flourish;
well, everyone wants to know all about you, especially if you have secrets to share.

More stories from Friday Fictioneers here.

Photo Prompt by Sandra Cook

Village Hay and Bread

Marcel drives his tractor through the village, although there are shorter ways to his farm. He stops at the Boulangerie, and it takes ages to collect his bread.

Across the street, Annette rearranges the books in the window of the Librairie, all the time watching for Marcel.

‘Stop it,’ Carole shouts from the till, and then joins her.

‘He’s taking his time.’ Annette checks her watch.

‘Mary-Anne is probably busy with a bun in the oven.’ Carole laughs.

‘Don’t! She’s happily married.’

‘And, she has loved both brothers.’

Marcel appeared; Annette waved.

‘Yesterday, Jacques bought a shotgun,’ said Carole.

‘No!’

Crocodile Love

This week’s picture by Penny appears so peaceful and allows the mind to wander in those warm summer afternoons.

Yet, as I discovered in Roaring Creek Belize, swimming in the water attracts all sorts of creatures, like little fish that nibble and bite!

More from Friday Fictioneers here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Penny Gadd

Crocodile Love

‘There’s one. Oh, it’s gone.’
The crocodile dived, creating a cloud of silt.

Caroline detested John’s profession of photography.
He stopped her from going to the golf course with Jenny. Lovely, soft Jenny.
You’re my wife, John had demanded. Together, we are going croc hunting.
Yes, their problem; together was everything he ordered.

From the boat, she trailed her hand in the water and thought of Jenny.
Sweet, warm-hearted Jenny. Oh, the bliss, when she massaged her legs and kissed–.

‘Look, another one.’ He leaned over the side, snapping away.

‘Careful! You’ll fall in.’ She grinned, rocking the boat.

Infidelity of a Goddess

My first motor bike was a Triumph Bantam 125 and my first car was a Ford Anglia 1200cc. Not surprisingly, examples can be found in motor museums all around the UK. The Transport Museum in Glasgow has on display five models of cars that I once owned over the years. The Ford Capri being perhaps one of the most iconic in its time. The only navigation system in use in those days was the AA Road Map which worked a treat.

This week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt stirs the yearning for the open road. More stories here.

PHOTO PROMPT© Lisa Fox

Infidelity of a Goddess 

This picture reminds me of my Triumph Bonneville and how Diana, her hair whirling from beneath her helmet, would hold on tight.
I loved this feeling as we raced along the roads in the summer.

We’d stop at the Craven Arms for a Theakston’s Best Bitter beer, and afterwards we’d speed to the coast.
Where, among the dunes, we stared at the moon drifting among the stars.

We planned a journey from York to Paris and across Europe to Berlin.

It never happened; instead she ran off with Charlie on his Harley Davidson.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘His is much bigger.’

Treasure Hunt

When I saw this weeks photo prompt from Ted, it reminded me of the saying;

‘Where there’s muck there’s brass.’

So with this idea of reclaiming/recycling old metal, my story is more whimsical than usual.

To read more flash fiction stories from Friday Fictioneers click HERE.

Photo Prompt by Ted Strutz

Treasure Hunt

Colin and Jack unveiled their treasure, a pile of broken auto parts.
Their teacher, Mrs Wilson, smiled, ‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘Where–?’
‘Along the canal path and Bunting’s wood.’
‘Boys, you know it’s Easter, right?’

The class crowded around the items, smirking.
The girls giggled and held up their baskets of coloured eggs.
‘We won. Nah, Nah,’ they chanted. ‘Better luck next year.’

‘Sorry, boys,’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘The Grand Chocolate Egg goes to the girls.’

The boys dragged their cart of junk to Joe’s Yard, where he gave them fifty dollars.
And so, CJ’s Metal Recycle business began.

Nuggets in the Creek

This week’s picture prompt shows the interaction between stones and ice and gives us an interesting photograph.

All I could see was a face on the ice and so the frozen creek became alive.
Thank you to Jennifer Pendergast.

More Friday-Fictioneer flash fiction stories can be found here.

PHOTO PROMPT© Jennifer Pendergast

Nuggets in the Creek

Grandpa found a nugget in our creek, and Grandma said it was the blessing of the Larney. 

The sun was warm when I met Mary-Lou skimming stones, and we played all afternoon.
I never asked, and she never said where she came from.
She just appeared like Grandpa’s gold.

She was there all year and Grandma said, “Marry her, she’s the luck of the Larney.”

Mary was tough and wild, like a prairie pony with a main of red-hot hair.

One winter’s day our boy said, “Look Ma, ice eyes in the creek.”
“Yes Billy, that’s just my father, Larney.”

The Aliens are Here

This week’s picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers adds a sense of modern humour, taking a selfie of a selfie!

More story contributions from Friday Fictioneers can be accessed here.

PHOTO PROMPT© Roger Bultot

The Aliens are Here

Something caressed his face as goosebumps erupted along his arms, and a cold air whispered, ‘Martha’.
John looked in the mirror. “Is that really you? I miss you.”
Since Martha passed, his sixth sense alerted him to soft moans and shadows that danced across the mirror. He was not alone.

For goodness’ sake, he was a scientist searching the universe for intelligent beings on other planets. Yet grief warped his imagination towards believing in the paranormal.

What was life without Martha?

Were the aliens observing him and trying to communicate?
He sensed the cactus plant was reporting his every move.

Our World our Village

Friday Fictioneers.

This week’s picture prompt of a rotting tree stump (provided by Sandra Crook) made me think of orchards and how , at one time, they were the life and soul of many villages along the Clyde valley. An industry that is rooted in the past. However, commercial decline is not the only reason that villages are torn apart–look around the world today.

I have based my story on experiences from Bosnia.

The usual mix of contributions by other members of the group can be found here.

Photo Prompt By Sandra Crook

Our World our Village

As you stare across the wasteland, you can see there was a village here; once.
Point down the valley where the trees were, and people nod and look away.
We remember childhoods learning together and laughing in the classrooms.
In the autumn, families congregated in the orchards, in the wood mills, and harvested the crops.
We were an entwined community of good neighbours, innocent lovers, and with marriages of everlasting bonds.

The fanatical nationalists terrorised us with a medieval past, infesting our streets with their hateful ethnic cleansing.

Today, we stand in silence, holding hands in remembrance of our roots.

A Dash to Freedom

Friday Fictioners, a volume of fiction in 100words.

This week’s prompt is interesting as it reminds me of the many storms and monsoons I have experienced.

If this was a holiday snap, I hope that Brenda’s holiday went well despite the storm and they enjoyed the experience.

You can read other contributions to Friday Fictioneers, here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

A Dash to Freedom

Mai Ling ordered black coffee.

The uprooted trees symbolised the turmoil in her thoughts, a burning itch of fire ants on her skin.
The bitter drink aggravated the snake coiled in her belly, a mixture of freedom with the dread of discovery.

Last night’s tempest thundered like a herd of stampeding buffalo battering the hotel with spears of rain, and the window crashed across the room.
She acted on impulse, a frenzied flash of angry until the bedsheets resembled an impressionist canvas of red.

Her cup rattled in the morning quiet.
The train departs at seven and she will travel alone.

The Well of Eternity

This week’s Friday Fictioneers’ photo-prompt takes us for a stroll through the woods, and we discover an abandoned cabin covered in moss. Interesting.

Read other story contributions here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

The Well of Eternity

There it is, “Die Quelle der Ewigkeit.”
Mary looked at John, his eyes ablaze with excitement.
One mouthful of the water in the hut ensures eternal happiness for life.

They bumbled around these woods for days, searching for the mythical source. 
She gritted her teeth. She expected a romantic weekend, perhaps even a proposal. 

John scooped up a handful of water, refreshingly cool, gasped, choked, and dropped onto his knees. ‘Mary.’
Her mother’s warning sparked Mary’s thoughts. “He’s a lunatic.”

Panic battered her heart.
No! she screamed and pointed at the sign.

John gasped for breath, collapsed, and died.