The Perfect Spot

Tilly stopped dead at the sight of the tunnel. The train tracks disappeared into the black maw, a ladder to the jaws of hell.

‘Come on, Tilly, you can do this.’

‘I can’t. What if they’re in there?’

‘There’s no other way. It’ll take another day to walk around and we have to reach the bunker by tonight. You know what’ll happen if we don’t.’

‘That’s night time right there. It’s the perfect spot for them.’

‘Ten minutes and we’ll be on the other side.’

Tilly stepped into the shadows, hot fetid air engulfed her. A rustle echoed from the depths.

FF - 07.12.18 - The Perfect Spot
PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

 

Lost and Found

Lola Margaret Delaware was lost. She clutched her stuffed grey bunny and chewed the top of its ear, which was threadbare and stained from the habit, and lifted her gaze to the top of the building she stood before. Stone monkeys with scrunched-up faces jutted from the corners and eyed Lola with disdain. But that didn’t put her off. She was sure her mother was inside.

Pulling bunny tighter she pushed the heavy door and stepped into a glistening white foyer. A man in a black suit and a pale face smiled from behind a counter. ‘Lola, I’m so glad you finally found us.’

FF - 23.10.18 - Lost and Found
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Invasion

The day the brollies appeared in the sky I didn’t think anything of it, except how beautiful they looked. Midnight blue, lime green, cherry red, lit up from the inside by fairy lights. I didn’t question the miracle before me, and instead stood in open-mouthed awe, watching them float by.

When the spell was finally broken, I looked around my new world in horror. There was no sky, just the underside of a space ship. Cased in a sticky cocoon I observed grey alien bodies walking in and out of the shops and bars like they owned the place.

FF - 21.09.18 - Invasion
PHOTO PROMPT – Dale Rogerson

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

The aching weight of you

Shrieks pierce my chest. I move quickly and lift you from your crib. We settle in the nursing chair.

The aching weight of you sags my arms. Silence cloaks the witching hour. We’re a raft lost at sea, a flame floating on an ocean of black. You latch on while I sing a lullaby so low it’s barely a whisper. Your head has an earthy heaviness.

Your hot milky smell, as delicate as a moth’s wing, envelopes us. Protects us. My eyes droop, my bones ache, but I hold on, still as the moon, wanting to keep this moment forever.

FF - 24.08.18 - aching weught
PHOTO PROMPT © Carla Bicomong

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

The lady who lives in Porta Mare

No one has ever seen the lady who lives in Porta Mare step outside the gates. She isn’t even old, early thirties if that. If you’re lucky you can catch a glimpse of her pruning the roses in a silk skirt and wide-brimmed black hat, or else standing on the third-floor balcony watching the waves. Her skin pale and watery, like skimmed milk.

People say she’s made a deal with the devil. But what kind of deal leaves you trapped in a house with no other soul for company? And such a beautiful house too. It’s wasted on her.

FF - 08.08.18 - Plants
PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Bug Hotel

Charlotte looked up at the towering hotel. Broken pots and dead leaves would make the perfect home for her babies. There’d be food too, an abundance of food, insects a plenty to nourish her young.

She couldn’t let her babies leave, spread in all directions across the land, blown in the breeze to pastures new. Here they’d be together always, she could watch them grow.

It would be dangerous, she’d have to fight for her place. Bigger spiders, a scorpion even.

Her babies squirmed in their silken sac strapped tight to her back.

Not long now darlings, Mama’s got you.

FF - 01.08.18 - bug hotel
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Great Escape

Mary-Jane placed her small bag of belongings in the little rowing boat that rocked on the lapping water at the edge of the jetty. She had brought her favourite things; her fluffball-topped pen, her unicorn notepad, and the jewellery box with the dancing ballerina.

She only had to make it to the island. One and a half miles of water, and the monsters would never catch her again.

She picked up the oar and paddled, firm and smooth, keeping her body low. A black shadow formed below her. A white light beckoned from the island.

Not much further.

FF - 25.07.18. boat
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Trick or Treat

It was supposed to be a joke. But the wailing sirens and flashing blue lights told a different story as the ambulance and police car crammed into the tiny cul-de-sac.

Young Teddy Hamilton stood over the lifeless body of Mrs Fenwick, unsure whether to run or try pummelling her chest again.

As the policeman approached, Teddy stepped outside his body and surveyed the scene. The woman lying dead, his fake blood-soaked hospital scrubs, which he had thought were awesome, now seemed childish. He’d aged a few years in the last few seconds.

‘It was supposed to be a joke.’

FF - Trick or Treat - 11.07
PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Half Done

You insist on doing the button of your polo shirt yourself. It takes long seconds and I am impatient. Come on, I have to get to work.

Wait, Mummy, wait.

I bundle you out the door, the button half done. A quick kiss at the school gates. Mummy loves you.

The train station is heaving with bodies. The click-click of power heels, suits rushing past – ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me.

A firecracker sounds, everybody drops. I stand confused, wishing I’d let you fix your button.

FF - 08.06.18 - train station
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

***

I only managed 84 words this week, and I’m a bit late to the party but better late than never.

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Preppers

‘People are gonna want what we have. It’s inevitable. Look at this here water, no one else will have a supply of clean water like this.’

The water looks dirty to me, but Grandpa keeps digging, huffing and puffing.

‘But Johnny Peters whispered the word “prepper” to Maggie Griggs and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that at all.’

‘Little Johnny Peters is a snot-rag, and that good-for-nothing father of his will be the first one banging down our door. They’ll be laughin’ on the other side of their faces when the shit hits the fan. Mark my words.’

FF - 30.05.18 - Prepper
PHOTO PROMPT © Connie Gayer

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.