CASTAWAY

The sea was calm and a brilliant clear blue, mirrored by the cloudless sky above.

The storm had railed against the mysterious island for three weeks, the same surge that had capsized the cargo ship and driven them to the unknown land in the canoe life rafts.

‘You’re sure which direction?’ Gideon asked.

Cyrus shrugged. ‘We can’t stay here. Nothing but sand and rock and we haven’t seen another ship all the time we’ve been here.’

‘There must be a search party looking for the wreck and survivors. Why haven’t they picked up our emergency beacons?’

Cyrus shrugged again. He wanted to get away from the island. Something felt wrong. They had explored it all and found no sign of life but still he couldn’t shake the feeling they were not alone.

They shook hands before each solemnly getting into their meagre craft.

As they pulled away from the beach Cyrus looked back.

He saw the glint of sunlight reflected on glass. Standing on a rock he saw the man watching them leave through his telescope.


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My small tale was suggested by the classic novel ‘The Mysterious Island‘, by Jules Verne.

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. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.

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

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CONNECTION

He found the phone booth that would provide a secure landline connection.

He punched in the number. Two rings and a click.

‘Danny?’ Her voice was tired.

‘Did you do it?’ he asked. He pictured the blood-spattered body.

‘I had orders.’

‘I have to come after you.’

‘I’ll guess I’ll be seeing you.’ The line went dead.

Danny slammed the receiver down. She had promised she was finished.

He walked back to the apartment and turned on his smartphone. His location would be revealed immediately, the microphone would be recording. He dialled the office.

‘Detective Thompson. Senator Carmichael is dead.’


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Copyright J Hardy Carroll

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).

Although this stands alone as a piece of intrigue, in my mind it is a sort of sequel to a previous Friday Fictioneers story which you can find here: HAPPY NEW YEAR.

To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

LUXURY HOLIDAY

Archie sat in the small boat. ‘Is that it? We’ve hardly got out of the bay. You didn’t even put the sail up.’

‘No wind in the bay for that,’ the boat owner answered.

‘Well, I haven’t found anything luxurious about my cruise at all.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way, although as you’ve had the full hour, I can’t offer you a refund.’

Archie jumped over the side and landed in the shallow sea, soaking his shoes and trousers. He trudged up the sandy beach to where Agnes was sitting. She peered at him over the top of her book. ‘Well, how was it?’

‘Splendid. you would have enjoyed it,’ Archie replied through gritted teeth.

A tanned, young man walked passed. He gave Agnes a wave. She waved back with a beaming smile.

‘Who’s that?’ Archie asked.

‘The hotel masseur, Ricardo,’ Agnes replied, picking up her book once more. ‘I decided to treat myself to a little bit of luxury too.’

Archie removed his shoes and began scraping the wet sand from his feet.


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Copyright 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. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.

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

Visit THE AGNES AND ARCHIE STORIES to read more of their adventures.

THE COLLABORATOR

How ironic that he should use this car in order to blend in to the street life of Haifa.

When Elias had been a boy the sight of a Volkswagen would have turned heads. Not anymore.

The man crossed the street in front of the car. Elias glanced at the photograph to be sure. It was him. Thirty years older but there was no doubt.

Elias gunned the engine. The man turned. Realisation spread over his face. His past had finally caught up with him.

How apt that he should be killed by a German car, Elias thought as he floored the accelerator.


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Copyright Kent Bonham

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 stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

THE PLOUGHMAN AND THE NAZI

The droning grew louder. McLean, leaning on his pitchfork,  scanned the sky looking for the source.

An RAF flyer, he thought. Not unusual in the evening, although this aeroplane sounded much lower than normal.

The noise exploded over the ridge, knocking McLean off his feet. As he fell backwards he saw the low-flying ‘plane, with the Balkenkreuz insignia painted under the wings.

Lying on his back, McLean watched a parachute mushroom from the cockpit. The plane carried on for another half mile, before it careered into the freshly-ploughed field.

McLean picked himself up. He could see the pilot struggling to free himself from the parachute.

Brandishing the pitchfork in front of him, McLean approached. ‘I think you’re a wee bit lost, laddy,’ he called.

The pilot, dazed from his ordeal, raised his hands to the sky and stared at the menacing man coming towards him.

Hauptmann Alfred Horn, I have an important message for the Duke of Hamilton.’

‘David McLean, ploughman. I think you better come with me.’


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Copyright J S Brand

In May 1941, Rudolf Hess, Deputy Fuhrer to Hitler, flew from Bavaria to Scotland, crash landing at Floors Farm, south of Glasgow. Ploughman David McLean, brandishing a pitchfork, captured Hess (who initially identified himself as Alfred Horn), before handing him over to the Home Guard. The real reason for Hess’s bizarre flight remains a mystery, although it is believed he wanted to negotiate peace, possibly without Hitler’s knowledge. Read more about Hess and his flight on WIKIPEDIA.

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. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.

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