Tag Archives: short fiction

The Great Mayor: Weekend writing prompt

 

I am the greatest Mayor of all time. I want to make this city great again. We will build a wall around the city to keep out criminals. I am the most popular mayor of all time. There’s no-one more popular. Look I could stand in the middle of the street and shoot someone, and people would still elect me, that’s how popular I am.

And so, the hubris went on. People actually believed the stuff that spewed from his mouth. Until, that is, his batteries started failing and one of his strings broke.

Image result for donald trump cartoon

thanks to Sammi Scribbles for the inspiration.

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Sing Choir, Sing (Friday Fictioneers)

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Word Count: 100

Genre: General fiction

When the synagogue moved to a bigger place, the First Methodist Church moved in. They ran a soup kitchen for the poor, took care of drug affected youth, and welcomed all. No one was ever turned away. The choir sang so loud, you could hear them streets away. But now the choir is made up of pigeons which roost in the rafters, and bats which hang from them. The cacophony is completed by rats and the cats that chase them. No human has set foot in the church since the scandal. But we wont talk about that now, will we.

 

Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/author/rochellewisoff/ -Fields-Addicted to Purple for the prompt.

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Weekend Writing Prompt #132 – Draconian: Finally free

The following is a short story I wrote on the subject “Draconian which I did for a writing challenge set by fellow writer Sammi Cox. https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com

Exactly 103 words long.

Image result for release from prison

When I was released from prison, I thought that would be the end of the draconian laws that tell an inmate when to eat, when to shower, what day to wash clothes and what time to go to bed. I was released on bail into the care of my friend. He took care of everything when I was arrested, I was grateful for that. Let me tell you that it’s true what they say about not knowing someone until you live with them.

“Right,” he said “now you will do things my way or back you go”

And so the real hell began.

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Week Away

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with the The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise!

So where do you think you lost it?

I don’t know, if I knew that, I would go back and get it.

Think someone nicked it?

I don’t see how, it’s been in my bag all day.

What are we gonna tell the kids?

Let’s not tell them. The room is paid for; we have got enough in your wallet for food, and the beach is free. Let just enjoy our week away and worry about it when we get home.

Do you have to tell the banks and card companies?

No, I left all the cards at home so we couldn’t overspend, except…

What?

Except the card which grandpa gave me to spend while we are away.

They both laughed. Poor grandpa had not been with it lately. He gave them his old blockbuster card by mistake.

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The Journey

These are two more stories written on the same prompt… or perhaps it’s the same story written from different perspectives.

Enjoy

photo-20170220154614795

I should never have come. It’s not my place. We are internet lovers. But this is real life.

He told me not to come, but I really wanted to be the first face he sees in this new city.

I wanted to make sure that he was going to be OK; to make sure his room was clean. I didn’t want him to be ripped off, swindled, as I was when I came from the country all those years ago.

He left home and came to the city to study; deciding that life on a farm was not for him, but life in a kitchen was.

“I just want to cook!” he screamed at his father.

Now he has come, but he is not alone.

“Brian, meet me boyfriend Dale”.

Word Count 130

 

 

“All this will be yours to look after, when I retire son’.

“Dad, it’s not that I am not grateful, but school has taught me that there is life beyond the barbed wire fences and the shearing shed. The wool you produce goes somewhere. The lambs that we raise are eaten by somebody. The wheat that we grow goes into food all over the world. Dad, life is doesn’t stop at the gate.”

I step from the train, into a world of strangers and strangeness. It’s scary for a small-town boy. But I will fight the demons within me and without. This is where my life begins.

Word Count 107

photo-20170220154614072

 

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Morning News

photo-20170220154614795.jpg

The morning paper tells the world what happened overnight.

But they are words hurriedly put on a page. Words that sell papers. The truth is not what is wanted. “Never in Arlington,” they say, “not there”.

But indeed, yes, in Arlington. Nowhere is immune to the inhumaneness of humans.

The papers don’t know the full story. They don’t want to know. I wrap the pistol in the paper, and toss it in the trash. I pull my coat tighter, so the blood-stained shirt I wear is not visible and board the 902 to Boston.

 

(Reading a newspaper on the morning train has become a thing of the past. Now people look at the tiny screens of their phones, laptops, kindles and tablets. Its a dilemma. How does a murderer dispose of a gun these days?)

 

Word Count 94photo-20170220154614072.jpg

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I can jump puddles

 

I’m a big girl now

I can tie my own shoes

I can pick out my own dress and put it on

I can clean teeth by myself

But I can’t pour the milk for my cereal yet.

I can even write my name see… Annie

I can make my bed

I can put all my toys away

And I can use a knife to cut my food, but not any other time

I can walk to kindy all by myself, I know the way now

And I can jump puddles

…but who would wanna do that.

97 words.

Second entry on this prompt. Hope that’s OK.

Dave

 

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Red

Prompted by the colour of the backpack, I wrote the following story.

Red, the colour of the scarf that covers the scars on her neck. The scars of a relationship that soured. The scars on her heart take longer to heal.

Red, the colour of the blanket draped around her shoulders, and the soup given to her by the Sallies.

Red is the colour of her father’s eyes, his nose when he drank too much. The colour of his skin when he heard how James had treated her.

Red, the colour of the luscious strawberries that she bought for $1 per kilo in Cairns. She shared them with Bridget and Julian as they sang under the stars and Peter strummed his guitar and drank red wine.

Red, the colour of the shoes that they gave her to wear when she first graced the stage.

Red, the colour of the dress she wore when she accepted the Logie for Best Actress in a Musical.

And red is the colour of the satin sheets she sleeps on tonight, remembering yesterday and dreaming of tomorrow.

171 words. It still fits within the 150 +25… just.

Dave

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The Summons

Having inspected the bottle and considered it an unworthy vessel in which to curl up and go to sleep, the snake slithered around it, rubbing along its side until it retreated into the cool shade.

The smoke rose from the bottle just like in the movies, and lo, a genie, rather contemporarily dressed, emerged from the vessel.

“Who dared to summon the mighty Genie?”

Looking around, he saw nobody.

“That’s odd”, he thought “Well, at least I can have a stretch and enjoy the rays for a while”.

“What now”, he contemplated as he sat on the edge of the cliff.

You see, without a master, a genie has no purpose in life.

He jumped.

115 words. enjoy.

flash fiction

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Hard time

 

dogs“What are you in for?”

“Destruction of property, you?”

“Assault. Bit the postman.”

“Not so bad here, we get fed and have a yard to run round in.”

“No one to love though, I miss Jude coming through the gate after school, he is so happy to see me after school.”

“Yeah, I get it. These guys don’t even know our names, it’s just, ‘Hey Boy, come on’. Don’t they even look? Duh dude, I’m a girl! I mean just because I haven’t had my nails done or hair brushed doesn’t mean I have turned male.”

“I got an escape planned, you in?”

“How?”

“Started a hole under the fence there.”

“I’m in, but if we get caught, you know it could be solitary right.”

“It’s worth the risk. Come now though, its dinnertime, got to keep our strength up.”

“Right behind you Duke.”

 

word count 144

flash fiction

 

 

 

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