Tag Archives: story

Abysmal: Weekend writing prompt 145. 

“Your handwriting is abysmal”, said the teacher as I handed her a piece of paper. “I can’t read it at all”. she said.

“Yes Miss Jenkins”, I said, my eyes turned downwards towards my desk.

 “How is anyone supposed to read this?” She thrust it towards me.

“Miss Jenkins”, I said. “You were my teacher once, but I am your doctor now. Take this to the pharmacy and they will give you the right medicine. They can read my writing and if they can’t, they will call.  Good day Miss Jenkins”.

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My apologies if this story is not the correct word length. I am in hospital today having been brought here by ambulance this morning. I did have the idea for the story before hand but was not able to do it on my laptop, with which I can keep an accurate word count . 

I am ok  I just require some blood and couldn’t drive myself to my regular place. Fun and frolicks.

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The Old Barn. Friday Fictioneers

Below is the story that I am submitting to the Friday Fictioneers challenge. I had to edit significantly from my original which was over 145 words. The shortened version is 107 words. I have done something here that I don’t normally do. Under the submitted story for Friday Fictioneers, you will find the original. You can choose which is better.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn Miller

The Old Barn

“We gotta tear the old barn down dad.”

“Why?” I turned angrily towards Jim.

“It’s not useful anymore, its an eyesore and well, its old”

“That barn has done a lot of good in its day. It’s given shelter to needy folk, looked after the animals during storms and birthing, it did you all right as a youngster.”

“Well, I’m in charge now and I’m gonna tear it down. I just wanted to tell you that’s all”.

There was no arguing with him. I stood up and walked to the barn for the last time. There I sat on my old useless chair and closed my eyes.

 

Original

“We gotta tear the old barn down dad.”

“Why?” I turned quickly and angrily towards Jim.

“It’s not useful anymore, its an eyesore and well, its old”

“That barn has done a lot of good in its day. It’s given shelter to needy folk, looked after the animals during storms and birthing, it did you all right as a youngster. It’s still sturdy, sure it has its leaks and needs a new coat of paint but…”

“Well Dad, you don’t run this farm anymore, I do. The barn is past its used by date now and I’m gonna tear it down. I just wanted to tell you that’s all”.

There was no arguing with him. Anything not productive was just discarded. I stood up, put my coffee mug in the sink and walked out to the barn for the last time. There I sat on my old useless chair and closed my eyes.

IM000622

An old but still useful barn I took a picture of prior to 2010

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Elysian: Weekend Writing Prompt

Image result for elysian

 

 

Elysian.

Death is the end of struggles. Whether it is Elysium, Heaven, Nirvana or Paradise, all represent the same thing. Freedom from all difficulty, from hunger, pain, heartache, everything removed. Well done good and faithful servant, enter into your rest. But what if we were able to have the Elysian feeling without death, without aging. It’s possible.😉

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Up we go: Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

The above photo was the prompt for the story below. Word count 100.

Up We Go

“Are you sure we will fit in” Forb asked

“I’m sure, we were here only 200 Earth years ago. How much can the fashion of this primitive people have changed?”

We all donned the clothing given to observe the humans below.

“This building looks like a temple”, said Veex, “Everyone enters with offerings of their money and receives gifts from the Gods”.

It’s a place that needed exploring. That’s when we saw the technology we gave from our homeland, the escalator. “Let’s see if the altar is this way”, Binf said.

The outfits we’d chosen certainly did not blend in.

Image result for aliens

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Looking Glass

I have written two responses to the above challenge. One dark, deep and sad. The other not so. The second I view as a Victorian young lady, or perhaps I am being influenced by a Clint Eastwood Western I saw yesterday, as a young woman fit to be married, in the early pioneering days of America.

But read as you will. I am just the author and not in control of your imagination. I just steer occasionally.

Dave

Looking Glass.

I spray mirrors around my house with white paint. I avoid going near still bodies of water, plate glass windows, and even keep the sheen on my cookware and cutlery low.  I wear a niqab but I am not Islamic. After my husband attacked me, I wish never to see my deformed ugly face again. I wish this life would hurry and be over.

Image result for niqab"

Looking Glass.

When I looked, I could not see my outward reflection, but how others saw me. Is there a difference? Indeed. Sometimes subtle but nonetheless real. How I wish to be perceived, is not always the same as how I was received. I shall try harder to reflect, not only the light airy self, but the colourful swirls that are my emotions, feelings and thoughts.

 

Image result for young victorian lady with mirror"        Image result for lady with mirror 1800"

 

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Its our secret, ok? (Friday Fictioneers)

Prompt is the above photo, Word count:100

I confess that I am a bit of a mischief maker. When I was younger, it was penny fireworks in letterboxes or painting the principal’s car tyres pink. Nothing malicious mind you. Just good old- fashioned pranks. Everyone laughed and shook their heads. “What will you amount to Billy Saunders”.

Of Course, when I got married, I needed to be responskible (on purpose for that’s how I spoke), but since retiring, widowed, the children gone, I can be mischievous again. So, its crop circles in the Summer and Snow circles in the winter. HEHE. Nobody will ever know it’s me.

 

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Checkmate

How could you let Chess take precedent over basketball in the sports complex?”

The principal calmed the coach. “They use live pieces. The queen is taken, she dies. Checkmate? The school surrenders.”

“Whose lives are at stake?”

“The pupils of course.”

Image result for live chess

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Lest We Forget. Friday Fictioneers

Word Count 93.

I wrote a poem for this prompt. I hope it is acceptable. Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo prompt.

The rugged tower of rock

stood reaching for the sky

it was made to remember heroes

Men, much braver than you or I.

 

Blindly they ran, walked or rode

into battle with the enemy unseen,

men also brave, onward they strode

whose intent was just as keen.

 

They clashed on the beaches,

and the rocky hills above

They fired guns in anger

for a country they so loved.

 

Among them was no victor

no winner could be seen

just rivers of blood which flowed

over hills that once were green.

Lest We Forget.

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Barricade. Weekend writing prompt 135

We ran through the streets, trying to escape the angry crowd behind us. We weren’t the cause of their anger, but we were certainly caught up in their wrath.

Let me explain. We were given 30 free all access tickets to a “Dead Black Frog” concert. They were legit tickets I swear. Too many tickets for just Stretch and me, so we went to the Sick Lizard bar and sold the free tickets.

We got in early but the guys from the bar came in a bit later and were drunk or stoned or both. The Bouncer and Roadies kicked all of us out. That’s when the chase started and ended at the wire-topped fence. A barricade that couldn’t easily be overcome.

The nurses and doctors just shook their heads as they dressed our many wounds.

Image result for nurse dressing wounds

 

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You Aussie! (Friday Fictioneers)

 

A short 100 word fiction story for Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

I closed my eyes. Could this driver be any more dangerous? He was not at all concerned that we nearly wiped out that rickshaw or knocked some exotic fruits from a market stall.

“I get you there double-quick time, no worries” he said with his smiling voice.

“You Aussies so you know Brett Lee, yes?”

“Yes”, I nodded, as it happened I did.

“I take you to the hotel, but first, a quick game of cricket” I opened my eyes to the sound of excited young voices. Held high was a bat and ball and smiles adorned all the faces.

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