Tag Archives: short short

Research Journal, Last Page

ceayr2

PHOTO PROMPT© CEAyr

Aug 5 – Doing field test we have determined that the specimen is not terrestrial in origin.  It does not belong to any class of Meteorite that we have studied.  I believe it is not of our solar system.

Aug 6 – Very complex molecules have been discovered on the specimen.

Aug 7 – Dr. Chen claims there is an alien life form present.

Aug 8 – Dr. Chen and 3 grad students missing.

Aug 11 – Chen was right.  I am alone.

Aug 13 – Dr. C. and the others returned.  No ideas.

Aug 14 – The planet’s dominant lifeform has been studied.  Assimilation has begun.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © CEAyr.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Fresh Flowers

flowers-and-packing-boxes-dale-r

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Abby asked.

“Your mother put fresh flowers on the table every morning for 60 years.”

“This is for the best.  We have plenty of room.  No worries.”

“I know.  This house is just so full of her.  I can imagine her going to the garden and selecting exactly the right flowers for the day’s mood.”

“The truck will be here in a second.”

“I feel like I’m leaving her.  And part of me with her.”

“I know.”

Abby stopped and stared.  Nobody had been in or out, yet a vase of fresh flowers graced the kitchen table.

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Your Call Cannot Be Completed – Friday Fictioneers

phone-booth-jhc

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

“Oh My God!  Look at that!  Is this the Land that Time Forgot?”

“What is it?”

“An old payphone.  Back in the Dark Ages people actually paid money to make calls on those monstrosities.”

“No!  Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, smarty.  Have you ever seen one before?”

“No, but my parents talk about them.  My mom even gets nostalgic about them.”

“Ha!  I bet she walked five miles to school each day.  In the snow.  Uphill. Both ways.”

“That’s her.  I’ll call her and send a photo.”

“Good idea.”

“Hey, I don’t have a signal!”

“Me either.”

“Anyone have a quarter?” Continue reading

My Two Cents

ted-struts-in-the-rain

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

It was raining, like all of the tears at all of the funerals in the world.  I wouldn’t have minded, but the queue was long.  Not that I worried about getting aboard, of course not, but I was miserable waiting.

Finally, I was there.  Those in front of me just walked on board when their turn came, but I stopped and looked at the ticket taker.  I held out my hand and his eyes sparkled.  I dropped the two pennies into his waiting palm.  The coins turned to gold.  I knew my afterlife would be good.

Always pay the ferryman.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Ted Strutz.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

I clicked “Publish on my last story and almost instantly regretted it.  I had a new idea, a much better (in my mind) idea.  I had to write this.  I hope you don’t mind that I double-dipped this week.

The Last Ferry

ted-struts-in-the-rain

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Sean looked over his shoulder.

Just behind them, the soldiers pushed back the wet and wary crowds.  The wall was near and closing, causing a panic.

“Are we going to make it?” Jasmine asked.

Before he could answer, a guard waved them through.

They’d get on, but it would be tight.

The car parked, Sean and Jasmine went to the observation deck.  They heard guns firing, then yelling.  The guards had been overrun.  People were racing to the ferry.

The mighty ship lurched forward violently.

Sean looked out, watching in horror as the flames ate all.

They had made it.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Ted Strutz.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Moonlight Palms

dale-rogerson4

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The tranquil night was shattered by the screams.  The guests awoke to darkness, a clue that the electricity to the resort was cut.

Flashlights came on, emergency vehicles crowded the streets.  The search was on.  A hint of terror could kill the tourist trade.

I slunk between darkened buildings, staying out of the light.  If I could make it to morning, it would be fine.  At least for me.

I knew what they’d find.  I knew the horror of the mutilated bodies.  But I couldn’t shed a tear.  Not until the full moon set and I was back to normal.

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Creativity Interrupted

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Meg sat at the writing desk, looking for an idea.

There was a seed.  Then a sprout.  Vines came up, tendrils.  A branch, another storyline.

The vines grew, covering the desk.  They bloomed in multicolored fractals, ideas within ideas.  A new sprout.  It continued to grow and grow, occupying every corner of the room.

The ideas came faster than words, budding, twisting, branching, filling all with their presence, growing…

“Dear?”  Meg turned to her husband.  “You looked bored.  Do you need some company?”

“No,” she said.

The room was bare.

Meg sat at the writing desk, looking for an idea.

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Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Sarah Potter.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

— —

OK, this is a second helping.  This screamed to have a non-literal interpretation, so…  Like the other story, this one has a moral – don’t disturb me when I’m writing, even if it just looks like I’m staring out of the window ;)

 

The Sun Rose at Midnight

charred-toys

PHOTO PROMPT © Karuna

The sun rose at midnight.  The city was gone.  Another city and another sun, around the world it repeated.  Who started it?  Does it matter?

A house in the desert that once was a suburb.  Charred remains, ghosts of lives long gone.  Ruins under the slate grey sky that rains death.

We seek shelter.  Perhaps we’ll soon be gone, too.  The before times were before my time, not even a memory.  Just the stories.

My son found them, hidden treasures.  Nothing in the building, but sheltered from the firestorm, they survived.  Memories of childhood before the sun rose at midnight.

Continue reading

What’s for Dinner?

j-hardy-rubble

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

From the outside the building appeared amazingly intact.  Jish and Flav hid in the rubble as lookouts, guns at the ready.

Morque knocked the door down with his massive shoulder.  I stormed in, releasing a protective bolt.

It was no good, the building had long ago been ransacked and burnt out.

Poking through the wreckage, just in case, I heard a weapon discharge outside.  It was followed by a barrage of concentrated high energy particle beam weapons.

A Goony patrol had struck.  I knew my people.  The dilapidated restaurant was a strike out, but we’d have fresh meat for diner.

Continue reading