Cap-tivated

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

A lesser-known fact about the Grim Reaper, he likes collecting headgear from his assignments. He also loves social media and hashtags, just keep an eye out for #GrimReaper #SoulCollector. And no he does not dress in a shroud and clutch a scythe these days. That would be a bit of a give away and a smartphone is a better choice now.

How do I know you ask? Well even the Reaper needs a housekeeper, you would be amazed at how unkempt the house was. All those cruise ships stuck in island paradise meant that the boss has been working overtime.

***

This 

This is a two for one weekend.  The first one is here Islands In the Stream.

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

Islands In The Stream

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Once more I bid you farewell. These past few weeks have been the best of my life. What we have had was beautiful and something many don’t get to experience over a lifetime.

Of course I am totally committed to you, even in this paradise I only had eyes for you. Those flowers stuck in my cap? You know how friendly everyone is, so probably just a sisterly gesture. Yes I do have lots of caps but I just can’t say no.

I would gladly stay but you know there are other islands to see and ports to sail into.

***

This is a two for one weekend.  The second one is here Cap-tivated.

Ah well, if the song is in the title then here it is, one of my favourites

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

Since You Bin Gone

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E.Ayr

When are you emptying that terrorist bin of yours?

What terrorist bin Dad?

You know the one Bin Laden with trash that needs emptying.

That’s sad even by Dad joke standards.

Unknowingly I’d thrown out a challenge.

I wheelie bin trying to get rid of this rubbish but it’s piling on.

You never call home and you mother is worried.  Where you bin?

And now that old faded poster lies forlornly against the wall.  I didn’t throw it just to see what you would say.

Mom hands over a note.  He left it for you she says.

‘Dear poster child…’

***

Maybe I should have recycled a story for this week but I've not bin that busy

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

Quixote

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

From the rooftop of his apartment block he gazes at the city skyline. In the distance the ferocious giants snakes upwards towards the clouds. The apartments in his once vibrant neighbourhood hemmed in by the giants as they march towards it.

The owners of the old apartments are leaving as the builders buy them out. There was a time when they all knew each other names, the rooftop not just a place to go up for a smoke; it was gossip central and even a rendezvous point for lovers.

Not him, he promises to stay and stage his last stand.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

Chasing Rainbows

Copyright Jeff Arnold

They say that there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  We know it is a story and yet we want to believe it.

That rainbow is a symbol of our hope, dreams and the fulfilment of happiness.  Many spend their lives chasing rainbows unaware of the happiness lying next to them.

Then there are those who show us the path.  All you have to do is to listen to your heart.  Choose your own way; see life as an adventure and take challenges head on. The pot of gold then comes to you.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

Written in memory of my cousin Anshuman who passed away this week.   A high achiever with a love for life, an unlimited curiosity for new experiences and a zest for adventure.   Farewell my brother I'll miss your presence.

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

Snap Chat

PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

Grandpa,how come you don’t have a smart phone? What if you need to google something?

Well I could always ask Grandma, we both know that she knows everything.

But how can you remember everyone’s phone number?

I have an address book with numbers written in it.

Mum says you don’t have Facebook or Twitter.

I don’t need to. You see that bird outside? I just have to speak on my phone and he will instantly tweet my words.

Are you are having me on Grandpa?

I couldn’t even if I tried,you sir are no bird brain.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

Five more days for this self isolation to end.  Hope you are all staying safe.

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

The Reply

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

The professor put his glasses down and sighed. Another letter with sheets of poetry had arrived today.

The perils of being a noted poet meant fans writing poems to him in the hope of being granted instant recognition.

Another handwritten note, his thoughts on such missives were fairly well known.

"Type them. You can't evaluate a poem if it is hand-written."

“How do they get my address?” he wondered. He had even joked about it.

"Visit please my humble residence also./ I am living just on the opposite house's backside."

Feeding the paper he began to type out a reply.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

My story for today is speculative fiction. It comes from a line in article I once read. The link is in the story.

The poet I am referring to is Nissim Ezekiel, considered to be the “father of post-independence Indian verse in English”.

A favourite poem of mine is his Night of the Scorpion.

To read the other writers this current week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

Flying Chariots

© J Hardy Carroll

I first noticed him on the weekend; he was in our local shopping centre waving a placard in his hand.

‘Repent ye seniors the Armageddon is coming.’

Discarding my kid’s pleas I went to him. 

“I think you mean sinners,” I said as he glared at me.

But he was there midweek with a new sign, giving me a gruff nod of acknowledgment.

He was on to something as items were flying off supermarket shelves.  The role of toilet paper in this crisis confuses me; do we wrap it around our bodies becoming a soft absorbent version of Egyptian mummies?

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

Unfortunately the crises is real and with quarantining cities and  travel bans there is a new normal in place.  Stay safe everyone wherever you may be.

To read the other writers this current week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

To Be A Star

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Friday nights were play nights in our community of travellers and the rule was that everyone had to be on the stage at least once.  Those who lived through that time can recall the intensity of the performers and how they gave it all in the theatre.

Most of us had never been on the stage before and yet such was the enthusiasm of the performers that you would have never guessed that they were not professional actors.

Lacklustre performances meant the performers were jettisoned outside into the deep space as our space ships continued their journey towards Alpha Centauri.

 ***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers this current week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

The Escalator to Heaven

PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

“Where is the stairway?” the aged rocker asked his cherub faced companion.

The flustered little winged companion who was bit of a fan stammered out.

“It’s been replaced since the new OHS guidelines came out”.

Seeing the confused look the angelic child elaborated.

“Some decades ago, due to a slip in the vetting standards, we had a lawyer come through.  He slipped and sued claiming that the stairs were not of uniform dimensions.  Unfortunately his legal team, from down there, had a strong case.”

“No more stairs then?”

“We had them replaced, plus the Boss really likes the malls.”

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers this current week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

I Scream

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Looking at old photographs has become a daily ritual with me.  Tonight I find one of an ice cream container taken long before Instagram made food porn mandatory. How the memories come flooding back.

What was that we said?  I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.  Funny how a little tub of essentially frozen milk, cream and sugar can lift spirits after chemo.

No child is so pampered I used to tease nor so lucky to get ice cream every night. But that smile was ever so worth it. 

Now all I have are memories and photos. 

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

This is my first submission written on a mobile phone so I have probably spent more time on formatting this entry 😀

Note: I've made a little tweak and changed a line that previously was:
"Funny what a little tub of essentially frozen milk, cream and sugar can do for a child."
The new change is actually what I originally wanted to write but then decided to not to have a reference to chemo.  I still don't know what works better, but I decided to make that change and write down my reasons for this edit.

To read the other writers this current week, click here.

I’d love read what you think about this post...

The Mission

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

“Beware of pretty flowers” our jungle combat instructor had drilled that message into us in the academy.  But that was in training.  Now here I am, in the lair of El Jackalo, the famed terrorist.  My brother in arms and I dropped off at the border this morning.  Using our skills we have navigated this horticultural nightmare where danger lurks at every turn. It was the glimpse of the famed guardian mothers that caused us to separate.

While I fear for his safety the mission must go.

“Young man will you stop crawling right now”.

 “Aw mom.”

I am busted.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

The lesson for the week is that if you write for a weekly prompt just check if it is from the right week  and not an old prompt  ;-)

To read the other writers this current week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

Still Waters

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

This is where my story ends, right here by the water.  It is still dawn when the golden glow of the lamps shimmers in the water just before the lights go off and the creeping rays from the sun bask on the surface. 

I slide into the water and let it surround me.  Above me the lights play on the surface as I submerge leaving behind worries rippling on water.  Will they miss me when I am gone?

A fish swims past.  Such a beauty but my lungs are bursting.  I swim to the surface and my story begins again.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

Well hello Fictioneers, I am back in your community.  The photo this week comes from that master of macabre tales - CE Ayr, I was really tempted tie the narrator to some heavy bricks and released into the water but this time I resisted the temptation.  Be warned that I am planning to contribute more regularly once again.

To read the other writers this week, click here.

I'd love read what you think about this post...