Tag Archives: Short Stories

The Trappist Zone

Friday Fictioneers

dawn-in-montreal

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The Trappist Zone

George, the transporter is landing.
Will I miss this place?
We did our best George, we must start over, a new beginning.
I feel a failure; all the destruction and greed.
Oh, George, remember the woolly mammoth.
Downhill since then. Where did we go wrong?
We gave them dreams and intelligence. Our experiment had potential.
Yes, we did very well, but should we just abandon them?
It’s too late, they are out of control; a self-consuming infestation.
George, the bag?
Yes, all human goodness, fully packed.
Think of our next creation; “Mensch”.
A perfect ideal; the Trappist Zone is ready.

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Nightmare in the City

Friday Fictioneers

caged-liz

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Nightmare in the City.

I am not sleeping, who does?
Robotically, I am on the train at six am, and transfer to the tube. I stop at Costa’s, the girl who serves is an Android on a vocal loop.
I sit at my station at exactly nine am.
Nothing happens.
At twelve pm the Android serves reconstituted Panini.
Nothing happens.
At five pm I catch the tube then, I am on the train again at six am.
I’m not asleep; the rat catcher won’t trap me.
The race is on and the Costa Android winks. She feeds dirty rats in the city.
Nothing happens.

Invisible

Friday Fictioneers

leg-up-jhc

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Invisible.

Do you appreciate how I enhance your life? Providing miracles as if done by magical hands, as an unsung hero I work to deliver your dreams and sooth away the mayhem of your hopeless stress.

I’d laugh with joy and happiness as you open my gifts, and even sit up with you through the nights to nurse away your fever and flu. Do you notice?

The explosion took my leg during the marathon, but now all you see is the prosthetic and sigh with pity.

Yet, I have not changed and remain the same; your loving, unappreciated invisible man.

 

 

 

Unrequited Love

Friday Fictioneers

 

dadsshoes

PHOTO PROMPT submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous.Friday Fictioneers

Unrequited Love
Oh Janice, why are you here? I’ll let you rest, I’ll let you be.
Let me massage your weary feet, as you tell me where you have been.
You slept in ditches beneath hedgerows and counted stars to help you sleep.
You’ve travel through forests and barren deserts, while dreaming of my warmth.
You swam the Zambezi? – No! – I didn’t abandon you, look you are here now.
You cannot live without me and have travelled the world for my love.
Here let me make you chicken soup and then a soapy bath.
What now? Sorry, Janice, I never loved you.

Psycho Creek

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Friday Fictioneers

k-rawson

PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson

Psycho Creek

Where ‘re you going Norman.
Mother, I’m getting firewood, it’s cold.
Norman! don’t be going into the creek, to them hussy girls.
Mother! There ain’t no girls. Not since —
I’m just saying Norman, they did no good.
Why can’t I Mother, why can’t I . . . just once, Mother?
I don’t want hussys in our house Norman. Don’t you love me?
Yes Mother. Here’s your steak, as we like it.
Three plates? Norman you’ve got a hussy I want her out! out!
She’s gone, Mother, she’s in the creek.
Good boy, Norman.
Mother, I’ll fetch us the steak knife.

The Return

News Flash – My short story Lilly-Anne has just been published on literally Stories a world wide short story site. Your views and comments are appreciated.

Lilly Anne – by James McEwan

*****

Friday Fictioneers   (slightly late this week, enjoy)

photoa

PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr

The Return.

Shrouded in monsoon mist along the Chakkar Road, Jazlaan viewed the ruined and dilapidated house. Seventy years ago, Partition had driven her family away. 

Still, in the kitchen, she smelled the warmth of cardamom and cinnamon sizzling in ghee and heard echoes of children lamenting in Urdu. Dust, like Chapatti flour, covered over the floors.

Mould consumed damp walls, the moths her gowns. What wealth and chattels she saved were left to grandchildren now, or burned on her pyre. The silver blacken mirror on the wall reflected her joy as she brushed her gossamer hair. 

Her spirit was home.

Romeo and Juliet – Cancun Style

Three Line Tales, Week 115

Romeo and Juliet – Cancun style.

tltweek115

photo by Ronaldo Santos via Unsplash

Oh Pedro my spider man, at last we are alone.

Si, me amor, let us elope my darling Rosita, while we are young.

The door! Quick, the cup, Pedrito. My father is home.

Sherlock seeks Dr Who.

 

Sherlock seeks Dr Who. By request I have added this  new menu heading.

Here you find my Flash Fiction about Sherlock seeking the new Dr Who.

Russell Holmes

Sherlock Holmes Statue in Edinburgh

Included is a Russell Holmes adventure “Murder at the Falls”, for your reading pleasure. This short story is taken from my collection ‘The Case of the Mahjong Dragon” and is included as it is based on the Holmes theme.

Marcel Loves Christine

Friday Fictioneers

dales-symphony-2

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Warning, sinister tone.

Marcel Loves Christine.

Marcel watched Christine from his vantage point. He slammed his binoculars into his backpack. Tears welled, he pinched his nose to check his anger as revenge rattled down his spine.

Forgiveness for Christine, but the man must be eliminated. He means nothing and like the others will die.

Previous girls squirmed and bled, because they wouldn’t love him.

Marcel craved Christine.

He watches and stalks, close, behind her in the bus, in the supermarket aisle. He smells her and urges to stroke her body, to drink in her aura. Marcel is convinced she loves him, but she doesn’t know; YET!. 

Yew Tree Memorial

Friday Fictioneers.

fatima-fakier-deria-3

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Yew Tree Memorial

In our eulogies, we promised to gather beneath the yew and play canasta.
Our descendants keep the place fresh and painted in the summer
and, in our honour, they place the cards.
I dislike their stinking cigars.
They have forgotten we played outside in the fresh air away from satanic dens and we thanked the Lord for our community spirit, friendly companionship and enjoyment in life.
We cough and splutter as their foul smoke drifts through the branches disturbing eternal peace, we wait for sundown.
In eons, we have evolved our wisdom and take our seats to play Battlestar Galactica.