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. 

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.