Wednesday, March 18, 2015

A Royal Repast

Copyright Rachel Bjerke

Dear princess how I secretly follow you around in the castle’s grounds.  When you sit at the edge of the cool well under the old linden tree and play with your golden ball, I wish I could be with you.

Yesterday I heard your lamentations when the golden orb sank in the well.  I can’t swim but then he came.  That dastardly amphibian!

I heard the clever rascal forcing you promise companionship in return for retrieving the ball.

Fortunately you ran away and I caught him as he followed you.

The cook does indeed work miracles with his garlic sauce.

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

And for those interested here is the classic recipe for Cuisses de Grenouille à la Provençale (Sautéed Frogs’ Legs) for those of you playing at home.  This is one frog prince who didn't make it past the pot.

Thursday, March 12, 2015


PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The changing colours indicate that our destination draws near.  Our eyes now pick out greenish tinges in the landscape.  Further away the brown branches clawing in the air bring an end to this accursed madness of a silver landscape that surrounds us, from the silver grassy knolls to the silver flowers that grow wild.  

In the beginning they told us that silver symbolised purity and would purge our land of its sins.  The diversity of colour had left us corrupted and deviating from the true path.

So they took upon the task of restoring our purity.  And we let them.

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

A look at a dystopian world of the future this time with narrative implying a forced purity in a genetically modified world.  But is it really a dystopian world? Many ideas of  ideological identification, purity and conformity have been floating around during various stages of history all over the world.   Grading of humans has taken place in recorded history, the dystopian world seeks to highlight this point further.  Science fiction literature is full of stories that use genetic engineering as a theme or plot device. 

Sunday, March 08, 2015

Magic Mushrooms

PHOTO PROMPT – © Erin Leary

“What do you have for dinner today Jack?”

Mr W was one of the oldest members of our home.  A retired banker, he was nicknamed ‘El Loco’ on account of the elaborate stories that he told.

“Mushrooms Mr W, a very nutritious dinner for you.”

“Nutritious? Bollocks!  I saw the secrets of the Cosmos in the Mixeteco Mountains of Mexico.  Visions conjured up by the divine mushrooms.  Horrible to taste but the visions were real. I felt like God himself.”

“That must have been nice Mr W.”

“Nice my arse, I take it that you’ve never had magic mushrooms before?”

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Magic mushrooms have existed long before the term was coined but amateur mycologist Rober Gordon Wasson was one of the first outsiders to participate in a Mazatec ceremony and describe it's psychoactive effects.

Friday, February 27, 2015

A Country Escape

PHOTO PROMPT -© Dawn Q. Landau

A country escape was what the real estate agent had promised.  There is a disused train track bordering the estate he said.  The house inspection over she wanted to explore. 

A brisk walk and we were walking along the tracks.  We saw them in the distance, the girl with her backpack and the dog trudging behind her.  We shouted a greeting but they turned into surrounding bushes and went out of sight.

On the way out the agent met us.

“Enjoyed your walk? The locals believe the estate has a ghost child and her dog who wander around”, he chuckled.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

What a change from the late entry last week, an entry on time.  And my second of the week as I was not sure if the first one worked. 

The Runaway

PHOTO PROMPT -© Dawn Q. Landau

They found her body in the creek.  When the call came I knew it was about her as Dad hemmed and hawed motioning to Mum to get me out of the room.

Along the edge of the tracks, fringed by a canopy of green, she had laid bare the tyranny of her life describing the horrors of the nights gone by.  Determined to escape she would follow the tracks to her real father's town. She had trudged off with the faithful Colin trailing behind.

Dad put his sheriff's badge on but I stopped him.

I know why she ran away.

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

On time this week.  Submitted on a Friday too.  Though I am not sure about the quality of the post, which is why there are two entries this week.  .The second one a little more upbeat (or so I hope).  It will be nice to get a few more comments than the usual kind hearted folks who drop by here each week (and your comments are much appreciated - thank you)
Update: Have gone through a few edits since my first cut.  One to imply that the narrator's father is the town's sheriff and the girl is intending to run away to her real father.
The other edit is to try and keep the change of tenses so that the switch from current to past and to current works better.  All a part of the challenge of working within 100 words.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Easy Listening

PHOTO PROMPT – © Copyright Marie Gail Stratford

The creature’s black baleful eyes stared at me.  Instinctively I took a step backwards, scared by the sight before me.  

“Call him now”, the words jolted me back to reality.

My colleague sat in the enclosed glass cubical with a goofy grin and the scary contraption on his head.   The crystalline spines on its back vibrated making a loud tinkling noise. 

I knew it was my signal to call when the crystals glowed.

I dialled the number.  The helmet vibrated as I talked and his face contorted like a mime.

His smiling visage signified that the tissue conduction had worked.

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

This has been a week of "Why Do Today What You Can Put Off Until Tomorrow" and the submission is along that line too.  Nearly in time for next week.  

Sunday, February 15, 2015

A Return To The Plantation

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The house hadn't changed in the years I’d been away.  The gracious trees planted along the driveway and the steps that led to the timber-framed veranda with its white painted balustrades and the carefully manicured lawn.

 A house built on a foundation of stifled screams.

I heard the creaking tones of the rocking chair and knew that he was around.  Every evening he would take off his boots and sit waiting to be served.  Each drink a toast to the devil inside.

There he sat, with a hole in his forehead, just as I had shot him two centuries ago.

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Wednesday, February 04, 2015

Conquering the Maze

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Melanie Greenwood

To an outside observer it seemed that he was a lost in a labyrinth with each twist and turn leading to a blocked path.  

Hemmed in by judgemental voices ignorant of his gentle soul, even in times of despair he would still find beauty around him.  In the kindness of strangers, with people who poured their hearts out to him, revealing inner torments, aspirations and hopes.  

In the end the maze would be conquered, the thorns discarded, leaving only flowers exploding in a cornucopia of colours resonating with love.

A year gone by does not lessen the void left behind.

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

It is getting to be an year since I wrote In Our Hearts forever.  On a personal level this has been a time of remembrance which is perhaps reflecting on what I write.  Maybe this is too personal to share but the reason I do this is to grow and develop and find the courage to share the thoughts and emotions bottled inside.