Friday Fiction 100 words: The village bells chimed 3pm

Many thanks to Rochelle for providing this week’s prompt.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Marler Morrill

The bells chimed 3pm as I, Seb, Sally and Manny chased down the back street, laughing. The figure at the far end made us stop dead. Taller than any man, slender form cloaked by material that absorbed sunlight, it had a face none of us could later recall, although it extended a skinny index finger to unsmiling lips. The sun went in, we glanced up, and then the figure was gone. Cautiously we approached, found only a black cat sunning its belly.

Seb returned there the next day, a car hit him, and he died promptly on the 3pm chimes.

 

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Friday Fiction 100 words: The village bells chimed 3pm

Friday Fictioneers 100 words – Keep Your Eyes Peeled

My Friday Fictioneer entry for 11th March – thanks to Rochelle for the prompt as always!

Warning: This went a little dark, I reckon – I saw that huge glossy shadow in the lower section and was totally drawn into it….

Prompt from Emily L Gant
Prompt from Emily L Gant

Keep your eyes peeled, girl.

They move between dark places when the shadows shift. Between buildings. Inside homes.

My neighbour was left with a cave for a face.

They spread in shadows, their domain increasing as storms get fiercer, knocking out power, soaking firewood. They caused that too, of course. Moment they landed here the bastards were blotting out our sun.

So never blink. Be vigilant and you’ll catch a lifesaving glimpse. A spidery leg here, a scuttle at the corner of your eye. Shoot the bastards.

Keep ‘em peeled, girl. Here’s a razorblade. I can help, if you’d like?

Friday Fictioneers 100 words – Keep Your Eyes Peeled

Friday Fictioneers 100 Words: Kaylee, Benji and KB

Thanks for the link at Friday Fictioneers!

 

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Image: Copyright Sean Fallon

Almost alone on a semi-deserted junk world, Kaylee badly missed her beloved Benji-dog.

But she’d finally found a new friend within the scrap heap.

The dusty robot gratefully consumed all the batteries she’d scrounged. He sucked thoughtfully on each one, his red headlamp eyes growing brighter, and his spiny fingers twitched and rusty claws flexed.

“KB is ready,” KB finally announced in a scratchy, staccato voice.

“So we can play?” she said.

“Yes, Kaylee.” said KB. “What shall we play?”

Razor sharp teeth chomped the last cell.

“I have a great game,” she grinned, “Huntin’ the varmints who murdered Benji!”

*****

Find more Friday Fiction 100 word stories below!

Friday Fictioneers 100 Words: Kaylee, Benji and KB

Friday Fiction 100 words: 10 April 2015 – The Broken Trainset

So, this 100 word story isn’t exactly the same as the prompt, but it has definitely been inspired by it. No idea where it came from, only that the words ‘broken trainset’ were the loudest as i brainstormed. I recommend listening to Ray Bradbury on writing, the guy knows how to find the stories hiding in your brain. Oh yes.

So, here you go 🙂

As always thanks to Rochelle for hosting this 100 word inspiration on her blog. Also please follow the blue frog at the bottom of the page if you’d like to read other 100 word stories by fellow Fictioneers.

trian Picture by J
train Picture by Jennifer Pendergast

The Broken Trainset

Shattered, I broke the little engine laughing at me beneath his ripped track. I stomped and stomped the tiny chimney, crushing Thomas and tubby Controller, smashed them brutally underfoot. I snapped and crushed, scattering miniature railway onlookers, terrorising all with my giant’s tread. The rest was a red mist until I dropped my beer can, slumped in sofa.

Blood dripped through my sock. The sitting room wrecked. It had been a long night. I hurt all over. Now I couldn’t even flog the fucking trainset on ebay. I was gonna get my legs broke. Twisted Thomas grinned at me – I.O.U.

Friday Fiction 100 words: 10 April 2015 – The Broken Trainset

Sunday short story: 100 Words – Green

Started as a Friday Fictioneer, but as it’s now Sunday, I’ll just say it’s a piece of writing inspired by the photo from here:

The inspiration. All I saw at the first glimpse, was the green...
The inspiration. All I saw at the first glimpse, was the green…

Green

An alien ship died overhead, spraying bright juice from degraded bowels. Hungry fluid chewed all life it touched. Insatiable green turned the trees to bone sculptures, fuelling a fast-growing, acidic moss that spread faster than I could ever hope to evade. Clothes burned to nothing. Everything suffocated. Holding my breath, I dived in the fountain. Water thickened with alien weeds. Moss clambered around my spine, flowers bloomed atop my screaming lips. Planets burst behind my eyes. Emerald stars burned my lungs. I swallowed the universe. Green was warm. I wondered numbly, nerves dissolving, if there were worse ways to go.

Sunday short story: 100 Words – Green

Friday Fictioneers: Dilapidated Shack

Friday Fictioneers

Flash fiction, dilapidated old house
Friday Fictioneer challenge

Though it’s been a while since my last Fictioneering, I’ve missed the discipline and mental exercise, and flat out fun of connecting to other writers with the same goal. It’s also moved, since the last time I did this, to here , at a colourful blog owned by Rochelle Wissoff-Fields.

And I’ve wondered, what can’t  you write about a dilapidated old shack? Lots of ideas surged! I’ve missed this. In fact, I’ve missed it so much I’ve done three entries this time.  Hope you like them, thank you for reading 🙂 comments welcome, I’ll aim to get to yours before the weekend is over!

THREE STORIES

Slashed Out

Jack o’lanterns flicker inside the old shack. Five teenagers are giggling, necking and drinking piss-weak beer, and clouds of pot smoke wafts from the slashed shed wall, giving me unwanted buzz. They’re so absorbed in each other they have no idea I’m waiting outside. Not long now. My axe is sharp and ready. One girl’s bladder gives up and she saunters from the pumpkin’s glow. She’s small, blonde and determined looking. I attack, axe swinging. Before I hit her, I’m surrounded by the teenagers. They’re brandishing guns and sharp sticks, even the blonde wields an axe. This isn’t bloody fai…

Castle?

I’m going to keep watching that broken down old wreck of a building. No, don’t try and stop me. I’ll stay here as long as it takes. Because five days ago, under the full moon – and yes I’d had a few beers – but I swear on my children’s lives, that I saw it turn into a goddamn castle. Golden flags, gleaming white towers, the works. Fine, laugh at me and canter on by. I don’t need you to believe me. But how else do you explain the trumpets on a cold night, or the crown in the street that time?

Meat and Poetry

The madwoman lived alone in the shack, and everyone mocked her. She didn’t care. She bought milk and meat in town, while muttering glorious poetry, until cruel children threw stones that struck her head.  After that no one in town saw her for a good few days. Then a vast parade of purposeful cats filed up to her hovel. Curious folk that followed were amazed when the cats bore the madwoman’s corpse from the shack and out to the dark woods. When they saw her again in town, buying meat, singing poetry, not one stone was thrown.

Friday Fictioneers: Dilapidated Shack

Flash Fiction Friday: Dark and Deep

Madison Woods provided another great writing prompt this week and I’m happy to present my latest 100 word story based on one of her photos. Details about entering Flash Fiction Friday can be found over here.

Kind of went for my very first instincts this time. It still went through quite a few drafts (hope that shows, or doesn’t…) but I’m happy with the final result. Please feel free to comment with your responses to it, I always read them and make an effort to go through and read everyone else’s by the end of each weekend.

Don’t forget to also check out Madison Wood’s entry for the prompt on her blog, right here!

Flash Fiction Friday, Sunset White Branches, Madison Woods, 100 word stories, horror stories
Sunset White Branches photo by Madison Woods

Dark and Deep

Branches raked my arms. The forest is unforgiving. Trembling in the dark, I come again upon a stone marked with ancient carving. I sink to my knees before it and pray to my god, or theirs, to release me. My shotgun long lost, the creature’s blood is still sticky and pungent on my hands and neck.  My stomach growls. I am so thirsty. Exhausted, I soon fell fast asleep beneath the stone’s deep blue shadow. Waking at the touch of a leathery paw. The moon is shrouded. Powerful reek of animal filled my nostrils. I have no breath to plead…

Earlier Flash Fiction Friday Entries:

Send in Mitsy

Cellar Wall

Bloody Jewels

Reading the Bones

Broken Mushroom

Flash Fiction Faction (Thursday challenge run by Quill Shiv) Entries

Aunt Edie’s Bunker

Clouded

Flash Fiction Friday: Dark and Deep