PEACE AT LAST

Agnes lay awake staring at the roof of the tent. She gave Archie a nudge.

‘What now?’ he grumbled.

‘Don’t you hear that?’

‘I didn’t hear anything.’ Archie rolled over.

‘This wasn’t what I had in mind when you said you had a surprise planned.’

A strange howl sounded in the distance.

‘Was that a wolf?’

‘Could be,’ Archie mumbled. ‘You can get them around here.’

‘That’s it, I’m sleeping in the car.’ Agnes spent five minutes extricating herself from her sleeping bag then fumbling to open the tent door.

Archie heard her footsteps fading away and the car door slam.

Peace at last, he thought.


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© Jan Wayne Fields

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

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LETTER OF DESTRUCTION

It was a beautiful morning. The sunshine streamed in through the window. The flowers were in full bloom and gladdened her heart. Dolores put on her favourite lace dress and took care over her make-up and hair.

Today, Thomas was expected back and she was sure he would come with a proposal.

 Then Matilda had brought the letter.

‘Dear Dolores,’ he had written. Not his usual loving opening, Dolores thought. ‘I hope this finds you well.’

Dolores felt a knot in her stomach. She scanned the rest of the page. Words jumped out at her: ‘ill-advised;’ ‘drunken;’ ‘one night;’ ‘pregnant;’ ‘duty.’

She slumped in a chair. Another victim of the war.

Everything that had seemed beautiful moments before seemed ugly to her now. She rose from her chair and picked up a fine China teapot. She let it fall onto the wooden floor. It smashed. The destruction felt good. A teacup followed. Saucers. A coffee pot. Finally, the vase of flowers.

It may not bring Thomas back to her, but Dolores felt much better.


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© The Storyteller’s Abode

Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story, in around 150 words based on the weekly photo prompt. For more information visit HERE.

To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT

Harry read the specifications. Another Call Centre office block. Thirty years as an architect and he was churning out steel and glass cuboids.

He drew a rectangle. He added a main door in the middle of it. He added oblong walls. More uninspired right angles and straight lines. He sighed and stared out his square window. The sun was setting behind white swirling clouds.

Harry contemplated the clouds. After a few moments he took a fresh sheet of paper and picked up his pencil.

***

‘What the hell is this?’ Harry’s boss waved the drawings in his face. ‘It’s supposed to be a call centre, not a curved…spaceship…circle…thing! What the hell is this?’ he repeated.

‘It’s something a little different,’ offered Harry meekly.

‘Get the hell out of here!’ Harry slumped out the office.

His boss sat back in his chair and looked at the swirls and curves of Harry’s plans. He stared out his window at the ordered rows and uniform lines that made up the city. How many of them had he and his company designed? He looked back at the plans on his desk. Maybe it was time for something a little different.


183-11-november-27th-2016

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). For more details visit HERE.

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

BEST FORGOTTEN

Lillian stared at the incongruous door.

Why had it been added to the old stone entrance? Why the rusty chain in front of it?

She ran back to her father.

‘If there is a door, why does there need to be a chain?’ she asked.

Her father looked down at her.

‘So that no one gets too close to the door.’

‘Why can’t you get too close to the door?’

‘Because then you may be tempted to open the door.’

‘But what’s behind the door?’

Her father sighed. ‘Something best forgotten.’

‘You mean like my mother?’ Lillian looked up.

‘Exactly, like your mother,’ he replied.


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© CE Ayr

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

SURVIVORS

Billy sat on top of the hill looking down on the town where he had grown up. The filling station was the only building with lights on. From here it was as though nothing had changed.

Two grey warships sat out at sea. Soon he would return to one of them and spend another few months patrolling the coastline. It used to help people think they were safe. Now it was just for show.

They let humanity cling onto life on this one island. Why? For how long? Supplies were dwindling, so was the human population. They continued to pick off a few at a time. Why not just kill everyone?

There was no way to defeat them. Their sophisticated weaponry had withstood everything they had thrown at them. The only hope of survival was that they would leave of their own accord. That didn’t seem like happening anytime soon.

As the sun disappeared, Billy jogged down the hill and headed home.

Never be outside when the sun goes down. That’s when they come.


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© Footy and Foodie

Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story, in around 150 words based on the weekly photo prompt. For more information visit HERE.

To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.