Tag Archives: Humour

Morgs are from Venus

Friday Fictioneers.

gold-tipped-anniversary-rose

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Morgs are from Venus

The creature was here.
Malky dusted the frost from his Morg Detector.
The reading showed ten in a thousand parts of nitrogen dioxide
and traces of nitric oxide.
A trace!
Malky locked his visor, sealed his suit and turned on its heater.
His knees began to shake.
He saw the frosted roses in a vase of water pellets.
What was the Morg after?
Was this a Valentine’s gift and attempt at amorous flattery?
Or a trap.
Were there frosted chocolates?
A lyrical voice called, ‘Malky’.
His detector bleeped nitric warning.  Too late.
She was beautiful. He was frozen in love.

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Cracks

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

dales-broken-door

Dale’s Broken Door.

Cracks.

‘You expect me to walk the dog and wash up – again!’
She slammed the door on the way out.
What did I say?
‘Weight watchers?’ I shouted after her.
It’s true, always another class.
Jogging or swimming, gossiping. I’ve married a fat ghost.
I expect she’ll stay with friends tonight. Moody!
Sorry dear, the meeting ran late, the boss insisted on a couple of drinks.
‘There is always next month you know.’
She didn’t like that.
“Look – tonight,” she pointed at the calendar.
We’ve been trying, but this organised sex is so stressful.
Honestly, I’m not ready for children.

 

Murder on the Express

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

rr-tracks-at-harpers-ferryc

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

Murder on the Express

He saw her alone in the compartment and went in.
She was exquisitely beautiful, young and naïve. Her diamond necklace, those earrings and that fur coat would sell for ten year’s rent. He’ll take them in the tunnel.

He was handsome with a charming smile and looking for company on a long journey, she thought. Something was wrong, a premonition and itch in her new Louboutin stilettos.
The train rattled into the darkness.

At her stop, she wiped the blood from her shoe. Kissed his forehead above the blooded hole. “Goodbye,” she laughed, “what a shame.”

Abstinence.

 

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers

nick-allen-from-sandra-c

PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

Abstinence.

Charlie’s allotment shed stored his tools and was shelter from the rain and cold weather. After planting and weeding he played bridge with his friends and the fun and laughter could be heard late into the afternoon.

Gran would laugh and say; “Hey, I am just off down Charlie’s.” She’d take her knitting basket. Everyone admired his collection of oil cans, particularly the little blue one with Gordons Gin and tonic. Martha liked the Martini from the green one or sometimes they drunk corn whiskey from the brown one.

Let’s go down Charlie’s. He, he. Life is really too short!

Wichtelmännchen

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

js-brand-tree ONE

PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand

Wichtelmännchen

Lightning struck and burned the tree, and the village Shaman panicked everyone with his story of angry ghosts that must be appeased.
Johann was instructed to carve a Totem before dawn.
First, he rescued an owl’s nest with hatchlings and some squirrel’s kittens.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as he carved, he couldn’t finish before morning. Tired, he fell asleep. When he woke, the trunk was done with symbols from the lives of his ancestors.
An owl landed nearby; the carved trunk winked. Johann looked around at the other carvings, and he smiled, his little friends had been very busy.

Misc June 15 Nov OneMisc June 15 013 One

Inside a Tardis

rogers-skylight

Copyright Roger Bultot

Inside a Tardis

Impossible.
Holmes’ face lit up with joy, I wished he would calm down.
We had followed the hooded woman into a rusted police box, its door slammed and locked itself. We were trapped.
I was terrified and couldn’t make sense of the scale or the magnitude. Overawed with the illusion, I trembled as an overwhelming spiritual awakening struck me; had we stumbled into a secret dimension of our universe?
‘We have her’, said Holmes and he lit his pipe. He strode around, incoherent as he puffed. ‘The end of beginning has no end.’
Madness, the reason he needs a Doctor.

Friday Fictioneers.

 

Guided Tour

jill-f

PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell

 

Guided Tour

Gather here, look at the view – on a clear day you can see the Isle of Wight and through your vision amplifiers you will see the beach-cleaners in Franconia. Every morning, they collect the dead.

THOSE WHO DARE TO ESCAPE OUR BELOVED REPUBLIC!

Since the year 2050 the Tower has served as a triangulation beacon for our killer drones protecting our Channel and executing traitors. Those disillusioned citizens determined to reach the Euro-Zone. A place full of milk and honey – you may laugh.

Enough . . . silence!
The curfew starts soon.  Now go directly to your assigned homes.

Lonely Planet

Lonely Planet

Friday Fictioneers

dinner-table-prior

PHOTO PROMPT © Priorhouse

Where is everyone! Such diplomatic bad manners.
The Ehevan envoy, Sil Chasack, switched to transmit, she strode around
the table.
No sign of the humanoids, she reported. Typical arrogance.
She was sent by the Galactic Federation to instruct ‘Earth’ on environmental sustainability for their survival.
Where were they, don’t they care about trading coffee?
Measurements showed the Blue Planet was deteriorating in a self-consuming infestation, the Mollaks are considering a cleansing cull; as a warning.
Sil wiped the window and looked out, there were no signs of biological life in the dark poisonous atmosphere.
Pity, this Mocha Djimmah tastes superb.

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Malcolm

Friday Fictioneers

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Malcolm

It’s okay Malcolm, if you want to cry.
I’m so scared.
Tell me, Malcolm, what makes you feel so afraid?
I see colours, following me.
Now Malcolm, I am here to help, tell me what things?
I can’t, you’ll think I am . . .
Here’s a tissue, Malcolm. I understand. I am here to help.
Do you? I think you are one of THEM!
Don’t shout, Malcolm, we are all the same.
No, we’re not, you’re weird.
Malcolm, you are the one who is different.
SEE! am I the only one?
Please Malcolm, join us, be an umbrella person.


My new book cover – The Listener (0.99p)

Version 2

A Mystical Murder Trapped in Time

Friday Fictioneers

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend

PHOTO PROMPT © Nathan Sowers grandson of our own Dawn M. Miller

A Mystical Murder Trapped in Time

The remains in the burned-out shed were impossible to identify, so DCI MacLeod employed Mystical Egandor to investigate.
Egandor set up his past generator, a mirror he called Visionar, at the scene. He had to thump it to make it work, it shuddered in protest but eventually the past shed reflected in the glass.
Egandor fell asleep waiting and when he woke saw the reflection had disappeared, he thumped Visionar. Nothing.

He turned and saw the intact shed in the garden, confused, he opened the door and went inside.
Visionar shimmered and reflected a sunbeam to set the shed ablaze.