Category Archives: Uncategorized

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

Caroline 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. 

The Guiding Beacon

This week’s photo prompt reminds me of the NATO early warning system domes that once were situated on some of the hilltops.

More stories from Friday Fictioneers inspired by the Photo can be read HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The Guiding Beacon

Mary-Anne gave out sandwiches and coffee from the back of her van to the destitute. She received a licence to expand her enterprise and has added fries and seafood dips.

‘My unique Bubble,’ she says. ‘Well, that’s just storage and an attraction for the town.’

Her assistant sniggered. He maintained the space array beacon hidden by the dome, and his team operated from the sub-terrain control centre.

The Nymerana were creating a network on Earth to guide their people towards safety from the Asteroid shower destroying their constellation.

Humans are naïve, although accommodating, thought Mary-Anne. They taste like scrumptious chicken.

Married Bliss

I am amazed how the BMW in Liz Young’s photo-prompt does not appear to have any damage, considering the wall and railings are in pieces.

You can read more Friday Fictioneer’s contributions and stories here.

Photo Prompt Liz Young

Married Bliss

She drives wearing high heels, rummages in her handbag and,
at junctions, if she stops, she has to text the kids.
When we are in the car, she will nag at me.
You missed the kids’ school play and games day–-a crime in her eyes.
The traffic accident held me up. I didn’t get home until midnight.
Apparently, I never liked her Mum. Hell! the poor lady died before we met.

You are wearing the wrong shirt, and Martha will comment on it.

Who is Martha?

Enough! I screamed. I missed the brake. 

“See what I mean,” she said. 



Vicious Nymph

This week’s photo prompt from Miles Rost encouraged my search to identify the little red/white and black bug.

I discovered it is the nymph of the Lanternfly, which as an invasive species into the US is causing damage to crops and trees.

More stories from Friday Fictioneers- click here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Miles Rost

Vicious Nymph

Mary swiped at the nymph she missed as it took off and disappeared into the foliage below.

She believed in live and let live as every creature has a place in our shared world. Mum taught her to care by trapping the spiders with a jar and to release them safely into the garden.

She accidentally crushed a beetle as it crossed her path. Sorry! Her attention was distracted, looking for signs of lantern flies.

Tears rolled over her cheeks; this is wrong, the annihilation of a species.

They ruined her orchard.

She saw two; rushed forward and splattered them.

Who Kidnapped Mai Ling?

This week’s picture gives us a flavour of the Far East and memories of Kowloon street markets in Hong Kong, thanks to Roger Bultot.

The variety of stories from the Friday Fictioneer group in response to this Photo Prompt can be read here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Who Kidnapped Mai Ling?

Mai Ling was waiting at Lantau airport, and she insisted we eat.
She hustled me through a labyrinth of street markets where we ate sweet and sour pork with shrimp dumplings.

The atmosphere was bustling, and in the humidity a wafting of jasmine from her hair interspersed with pungent cooking odours.
We were being observed! I recognised the Chia Tong henchmen. 

In the hotel, she hit me with a pillow and told me to go shower.

When I returned from the bathroom, the door was open.
Her handbag and contents were on the bed and her shoes in the corridor.

We all love Grandma

Thanks to Ted for this week’s prompt for Friday Fictioneers.

More stories here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

We all love Grandma

My daughter Sally-Anne married Billy-Joe, and for years they have lived at home with us. It’s time; my wife, Elly, agreed. Since Sally and Billy are expecting twins, they should have their own place. It would stop all the fighting and arguments about space and who owns the washing machine.

We bought one of them prefabricated homes and put it down by the creek, not too far as Elly wants to be near the grandchildren. But just far enough to keep us all apart; sweet and happy.

The trouble is, Sally won’t agree about who gets to look after Grandma.

Extinction is not a choice–Survivors

My thanks go to Dale for her picture of a flooded patio area, after a heavy rainstorm. Does this happen every year or just occasionally?

Many will suggest climate change as the reason for the flooding. Although climate change has been a constant drift over hundreds of years, we now know how this drift has sped up over the last tens of years. But as a planet of humans, are we heading for extinction?

Extinction is not a choice–Survivors

We stood in a circle and held hands. Everyone understood the ritual; our strength and fortitude were the foundations of the past and our future. 

Greta, believe us; we will not move and live in the forests. Our generations have survived by this lake, our home. 

We are the descendants from Lucy and accept Earth is a living monster of storms and earthquakes with an infestation of a multitude of life. As the environment changes, we will embrace technology and adapt.

Let us honour Mother Earth as she nurtures us.

We pray for humanity since extinction is not a choice. 

Creepy Landlord

This week’s picture prompt from Roger is inviting, but I sense a hint of apprehension.
However, the CCTV puts my mind at ease.

More Flash Fiction stories at Friday Fictioneers

Creepy Landlord

Not as expected, but the rent is cheap and suddenly available.
Sally checked the agency’s note.
The landlord, Mr Bates, had the keys; she knocked.
It’s the top flat.
She followed him into a tiny room.
You’re beautiful. He scratched his beard.
Sorry!
A pretty view. See the park.
Oh yes, nice.
Is that jasmine shampoo?
She moved to the exit.
No, no, this way.
A dark bedroom with narrow windows, a carpet stain and a new mattress.
He scratched at his neck. Should we forget about this month’s rent?
She smiled. Maybe not, as my boyfriend would kill you.

Journey’s End Pub

This week’s picture, to me, is a reminder of the Burma -Death Railway built with forced labour by the Japanese Army during WW2. It is estimated that 90,000 labourers and 16000 allied prisoners of war died during it’s construction. The brutality of the period reverberates with us still, in books and in films.
One film, The Railway Man, is an adaptation of the account of a British Army Officer, Eric Lomax, captured and tortured by the Japanese. Years after the war Lomax confronts his Japanese counterpart and they become friends. As they say; time heals. Perhaps, but only for some.

My story has nothing to do with that tragic period.

Read the other stories on Friday Fictioneer by clicking here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

Journey’s End Pub

Their shift had ended 200 years ago, and the bearded miners packed the “Journey’s End” pub.
The flaming fire warmed the room, but at midnight the atmosphere turned sullen.

John sipped his ale.

Outside, a train screeching to a halt stirred all the men to drink up and leave.
John followed them into a fog of hissing steam that obscured a locomotive.
The miners climbed into the carriages, and the engine pulled away in the dark above dilapidated tracks.
John marvelled at this silver miners’ mystery.

He returned indoors to his bitter ale, and the crowded pub of bearded miners.