flash fiction – Page 7

Toxic – Room 101

a quick 101 words

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

“Woah man, try these” Driyal said offering the small packet of blue pills as he watched his otherwise perfectly green tentacles turn to a bunch of flowers. “These are out of this world.”

Corvelex stared open mouthed and shook his head as he imagined himself to be the sexual centre of the entire galaxy. His thrallus throbbed intently and his scales turned a deep shade of crimson.

“What is it man” he asked, all four of his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Sapien X” Driyal said grinning broadly.

“No way bro” he insisted, “I ain’t touching those humans, they’re toxic!”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/toxic/

Future Perfect 2

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum.

Jay peered through the flap of his small grubby tent, once white but now a mottled mass of browns and blacks. The storm seemed to have passed and already the sky was filling with the thick acrid smoke of camp fires. He pushed through to the outside and looking about, the thick mud seeping over the top of his shoes.

“Where you going boy?” Snapped the old man from the tent opposite. “You better be careful out there”

He might only be 13 but he had seen enough to know how to look after himself. Mr Brabbin was harmless enough, he had lost his wife and three children to the plague so could be forgiven being grumpy.

“I will Mr B” He said reaching down and patting the lump in his pocket, checking it was still there. “I’ll bring you back something.”

“Good boy” Mr Brabbin mumbled climbing back inside his tent “just like my Jacob”. Jay watched him disappear and headed off across the camp towards the river without bothering to secure his own tent, it wasn’t like he had anything worth stealing.

Through rows and rows he walked, people emerging and getting back to what they spent most of their days doing, which was not a great deal. Dirty faced children milled about and the smells and noise of a million refugees filled the air. The food drops were due soon, which was the highlight of the day, but outside of that it was a pretty miserable hand to mouth existence they lived. Each week an envoy from New York would fly over and update them with the latest immigration status, and each week it was the same old story. New York was full.

Even from this far out he could see her in the distance, her hab-zones reaching high into the sky. They were so large they dwarfed the old skyline, huge structures of concrete and glass built to house those that were lucky enough to make it in before they stopped all movement in an out of the city.

He followed the line of tents until they lead him down towards the shoreline, the black waters of the harbour stretching out before him in the distance. He picked up a rock and threw it at a sign that warned that a one hundred metre wide stretch of land around the water’s edge had been mined. He winced as the rock ricocheted from the sign and rolled across the ground.

He climbed up onto an oil drum and reached into his pocket pulling out a ration pack, ‘Courtesy of the New York City State’ stencilled across the silver foil packaging. Sitting there watching the shuttles buzzing around the high towers of the city in the distance he bit off the corner and squeezed the contents into his mouth. Probably Banana but it was hard to tell.

As palls of smoke drifted from the camp out towards the water’s edge he watched the supply drones growing larger as they headed across the bay towards them, large spider like craft with their legs wrapped around the containers of food and water. They would drop their contents and then monitor the distribution from above, with any sign of unrest ensuring that perpetrators would soon discover that they were also heavily armed.

He craned his neck as they buzzed overhead, shouts and commotion from the camp filling his ears. He finished his ration pack and screwed the packaging into a ball and tossed it towards the warning sign and watched it fall to the ground into a pile of the discarded silver packages.

The sound of a patrol boat in the harbour caused him to look up and hurriedly he pulled a small notepad and pencil from a pocket and scribbled the time and a description of the boat. Leafing back through the tattered pages he noticed that it was running a minute late. Pretty unusual for automated craft he thought.

For a while Jay just sat, scribbling notes into his book and watching the shadows grow longer as the sun began to dip in the sky. It wouldn’t be long now.

Soon two men emerged from the tents heading towards the shore about forty metres away. It was the nightly ritual, a run for the city and a chance of a life away from the desperation, death and disease of the camp. Dressed in little more than rages, their faces gaunt and eyes sallow they moved slowly, the setting sun warm on their backs.

They paused at the edge of the restricted area and then, without speaking, set off towards the waters edge. Jay watched, his heart racing and the paper in his hand shaking as step by step they drew nearer and nearer to the waters edge. A step became five metres and five metres became ten.

He noticed one turn to the other and smile but in that moment there was an ear splitting thud and an explosion of dirt and fire and both men were thrown up into the air like rag dolls. Limbs torn from their bodies they didn’t even have time to scream before they came back to earth in a plume of smoke and falling debris. The taller of the two set off a second ear splitting explosion as he landed and he disappeared in a pink mist spread across the ground and reflected in the late evening sun.

As the smoke drifted away Jay uncovered his ears and flicked through the pages of his note book. On a small diagram of the shore front he marked the spot where they had triggered the mines. Their loss was his gain, and it had him one step closer to his own freedom…

Future Perfect 1

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum.

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum. The low winter sun glistened off of her silver sides and inside her passengers pressed themselves to the windows. To the east and out towards the Atlantic they could see the city lights were already burning brightly, 25 million people crammed into towering glass and concrete hab-zones. To the west the refugee tents stretched as far as the eye could see, fires burning and palls of acrid smoke twisting and writhing into the sky.

Caleb pulled on his father’s sleeve.

“Why don’t they move to city dad?” He asked pointing to the tents.

His father paused. “There just isn’t room son” he said looking away. “The city is full.”

“Full?” Caleb said confused “we have a spare bedroom? We have lots of bedrooms.”

“It’s just full son” he said putting a hand on his shoulder.

Caleb looked at his father and knew that it was best not to ask again. He was a patient man but some times you had to know when to stop asking questions.

“Where do they come from?” he asked.

“From the south” his father answered “they’re the ones that made it.”

Caleb knew about the South, his tutor had talked about it. “They’re the ones that survived the plague? ” he asked.

“They are yes, many died but it could have been much worse.”

Caleb sat upright, he knew about this too. “Tutor said that if it wasn’t for the great wall we would all have died, we’d have been over run.”

“Exactly” his father replied proudly, “if it wasn’t for the wall none of us would be here now…”

Brian and Carla – 75 word Story

Just a quick something

Brian looked into his wife’s eyes and sighed.

“I’m so sorry it ended like this” he said “I wanted it to work but I realise we want different things.”

Carla said nothing, staring back expressionless.

“I know” Brian continued. “I know it’s my fault I just…”

Brian paused, he had hoped for something. Anything.

“Fine, just fine” he said picking up his shovel and tipping soil over Carla’s already stiffening body. “Silent treatment it is…”

Teleporting Topless – Room 101

Clarke reached for the key on the panel, an array of lights blinking.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only. These tend to be snippets of things that could be or might be one day. Or never see the light of day again.

Clarke reached for the key on the panel, an array of lights blinking.

“First full human trials commencing in 5…” He said looking up at a camera in the corner of the room. Reaching zero he turned the key.

A bright flash lit up the room, static electricity fizzing and popping as the form of a person began to take shape on the receiver. The air crackled as first feet and then legs took form. Clarke waited heart racing. The fizz popped and stopped.

His comms unit barked into life. “Boss, we have a problem.”

Clarke stared at the platform. “Oh shit”

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Butter Brickle – Underworld 3

Marcus Henderson was born to a poor mid-west family just after the second American civil war.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. I used to do 101 words, hence the title but I am scrapping the restriction. They will still be a brief.

Part 1 is here

Part 2 is here

Marcus Henderson was born to a poor mid-west family just after the second American civil war. His parents had picked the wrong side and they had paid a heavy price for those decisions for years afterwards. Like so many who had felt it was their duty to reclaim the America of their forefathers his father had died a broken man and his mother a shell of the tender and caring woman he remembered from his very earliest years.

As he walked towards the Zip station he thought of them and of the promise he had made his father as he lay dying, his body riddled with radiation poisoning. He would have been proud of the man he had become. Proud of his sense of duty and his loyalty to family and a cause that still lived silently in the heart of so many.

“Don’t forget what they did” he could still hear him saying.

With rain falling and the inky blackness of night now descended on the city he reached into his pocket and fingered a small wad of credits. Just enough to get him to the Airport and then it was off planet. He gripped the briefcase more tightly and turned a corner. The Zip station was just a block ahead and he quickened his pace.

“I’ve done it” he said aloud and allowed himself to smile. It was probably his first smile in years.

Unfortunately for Marcus Henderson, with the exception of a brief moment where he managed to muster a “what the…”, those were the last words to ever leave his mouth.

From the corner of his eye he caught a blur of motion, a whiff of perfume and then he was suddenly dragged back into a small loading alley running parallel to the main walkway. He felt arms around his throat and despite kicking frantically he could not fight back.

There was a brief “Shh” in his ear and in one swift movement there was a crack as his neck snapped and he slumped lifeless to the floor.

“Heavier than I thought” Jessica said to herself looking down at him and reaching down and prying the briefcase from his fingers which she placed it on the ground next to a dumpster. She then went through his pockets and found his cash, ID Papers and a packet of butter brittle.

“Sweet tooth eh” she said. “Don’t you know sugar will kill you sugar.”

She didn’t have time to get him into the dumpster and pulled him out of sight. Not a minute too soon too as she heard hurried footsteps and through the patter of the rain listened as the two hooded men walked past oblivious to what had just happened.

“He must have headed into the station” she heard one say. There was definitely the hint of a Russian accent.

“Head up to the main concourse” the second told him breaking into a run, “I’ll check the departures.”

Jessica stood in the darkness, rain falling, and listened to the their receding footsteps.

“Job done” she said to herself and picked up the case and pushed the cash and ID papers into her jacket pocket. She tossed the butter brittle at the dead man’s feet.

“Nothing personal Marcus” she said heading back out into the night, “I’m just doing my job.”

Moonlit Excursions – Underworld 2

Heads turned as she walked into the club, a dozen pairs of desperate lonely eyes drinking her in as eagerly as they suffered what passed as beer in this place

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. I used to do 101 words, hence the title but I am scrapping the restriction. They will still be a brief. This is a follow up to one I did yesterday which you can find here…

Marcus Henderson was a fragile man, and he had for many years enjoyed his ill health about as much as he was enjoying the second beer just put before him.

He nodded a thanks to the bar tender and pushed a handful of credits towards him. He didn’t really want the beer, and he didn’t want to be here, but somehow this is where he was and he had no idea why. He just needed to be anywhere but there.

The original young girl on the stage had been replaced by her more voluptuous colleague, an engineered model no doubt given the size of her assets, and she was making easy work of hoisting herself up and down the pole.

“You not thirsty Marcus honey” she asked in her warm southern drawl, her red lips lingering on the ‘M’ just a little too long. “You dont want it to get warm now.”

He pushed it away and readied himself as if to leave. He looked up slowly as he spoke.

“It was very nice to meet you Miss…” He paused.

“Call Me Jessica, Marcus. Very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise” he said shaking her hand and then quickly pulling away. “I must be going though” he added nervously “I have a dirigible to catch” and with that he rose from his stool, pulled his coat tight and with his briefcase clutched to his chest he headed towards the exit and the neon night beyond.

“Be safe now you hear” she said as he walked away and up a small flight of steps to the club door. She picked up movement from a dark corner and her eyes instinctively scanned the room and she watched two dark coated men rise and follow him as he left. “Fuck” she said finishing her drink. How did they know he was here? She needed to act, and she needed to act fast or everything was going to go south fast.

“Thank you sugar” she said to the barman, waiting a few moments and then made for the exit.

The fizz and hiss of Neon lit the night, high sided buildings adorned with luminous invites to whatever dark craving you might call normal. Across the road she spotted the two men weave between the street side vendors and the corporate nobodies that filled this part of time once night fell. Pockets full and empty lives they moved from joint to joint in search of something that would pass for entertainment.

Heels or not she wasn’t letting this one get away and she skipped between the traffic shortening the distance between herself and Marcus’ followers and tucked in behind a broad shouldered Colony Marine who seemed to be heading in the same direction. Billows of steam hissed from street vents and the calls and cries of the market traders fought with the buzz of the traffic as she passed endless shopfronts selling everything from trinkets to weapons and somewhere in between you’d find the off-world girls and occasionally boys for those with an appetite for something a little different and a wallet to match.

She pulled the collar of her leather jacket up around her ears and darted from behind the marine and down a small side alley. He had said he needed to catch a dirigible and given that there was only one zip station in the precinct that had a direct link to the airport she knew where he was going. More importantly, she knew how to get there faster.

She picked up her pace and winding through near dark allies she headed for the zip station. Here beyond the main strip and the glow of the neon hooded faces skulked in the shadows.

“What you after darling?” A tall thin man asked as she skirted the pools of water and garbage. He reached a hand towards her and her eyes flashed bright, the glow of electric blue cutting through the darkness.

“H-hey sorry” he stammered recoiling in fear “I’m not looking for no trouble” he continued and hurried inside a dark doorway.

Jessica never broke stride and as she heard the clang of the door closing she rounded a corner and found herself just one block from the zip station. She looked up feeling the first drops of rain beginning to fall, and there was a feint rumble of thunder in the distance.

They would have to come this way, and when they did she would be waiting.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Shades of Chartreuse – Underworld 1

Heads turned as she walked into the club, a dozen pairs of desperate lonely eyes drinking her in as eagerly as they suffered what passed as beer in this place

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. I used to do 101 words, hence the title but I am scrapping the restriction. They will still be a brief. This might be the start of something. Might well be a ‘To be continued…’ Actually, it could even be a middle or an end never mind a beginning.

Heads turned as she walked into the club, a dozen pairs of desperate lonely eyes drinking her in as eagerly as they suffered what passed as beer in this place. With legs as long as her skirt was short she sidled up to the bar and effortlessly perched on the stool.

“Chartreuse” she said in a voice as smooth as silk. The bartender nodded.

The room was dim enough to hide even the darkest of secrets and across from the bar on a small stage, lit only by a single spot that cut through the swirls of cigarette smoke, a pretty young thing wound slowly around a pole – her eyes dead and her mind anywhere but here.

“What’s your story” she asked a small balding man in a long dark overcoat sat two stools away.

He said nothing, staring deep into his glass. He held a small battered briefcase on his lap and even when he drank kept one hand on it.

She took the glass of yellow green liquid from the bartender and slipped him ten credits. “Keep the change sweetness” she said smiling. He blushed awkwardly. She was unnervingly beautiful.

“Not a talker eh” she continued, taking a sip from the glass. “Well you cant come for the liquer either” she said putting it down, “so I guess you’re here for the girls then”.

“Im m-m-married” he answered. She watched him for a moment. He was small and very pale and beads of sweat glistened in the dim light.

“Aren’t you all sweetheart” she answered smiling and down one seat. “Things not good at home then?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine” he answered curtly cradling the briefcase in his lap more tightly.

“That’s what my ex used to say” she said circling the rim of the glass with her forefinger “He’d say everything was fine and then I’d find him with Tracy or Kimberley or Julie or whoever the girl of the day was.”

The small pale man turned his head to look at her before quickly looking back down at the bar.

“He must have been a fool” he muttered.

“Oh thank you sweetheart” she said placing a hand on his arm. Her bright blue twinkled as she flashed him broad smile “I’m long past holding grudges though, he’s nothing but a story to me these days. A distant memory and nothing more.”

He quickly took a drink from his almost empty glass.

“What’s your name sugar?” she asked.

“Henderson” he replied.

“First or last?” She teased.

“Marcus. My name’s Marcus” he said. She noticed him move ever so slightly towards her on his stool.

“Well Marcus” she said taking another drink from her glass, “Here’s to things being just fine.”

I think I might try continue this tomorrow…the prompt could work. Moonlight Excursions.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Carrot Ranch – TUFF

This was part of the carrot ranch challenge to write a series of tweets all 9 words each. 11 of them to make a 99 word flash fiction. I managed to get the structure wrong as it was meant to be just 1 sentence but I enjoyed tweeting it anyway.

So I did all 8 of the Carrot Ranch challenges and it culminated in this. You had to:

Do a 5 minute free write

Turn that into a 99 word piece

Turn the 99 word piece into a 59 word piece

The 59 word piece then becomes a 9 word sentence

And then you build the whole thing back up to a 599 three act piece.

I don’t remember a lot about it as I wrote it kind of drunk on Holiday but I do remember the experience being pretty cool as it really got to the heart of what you wanted to write. Such a pity the drinks were all free that day.

So here it is:

First do a 5 minutes free write

Wednesday woke up and knew everything. Everything apart from what had happened the previous evening (including who the fellow in bed next to him was). His mind raced and his heart pounded as every synapse in his brain fired as the mysteries of the universe unfolded. He sat up in bed breathing heavily as he understood the origins of mankind, who had killed JFK and why it was that the American people had voted for Donald trump.

He looked down at the man sleeping next to him. “Not bad” he thought to himself, “must have been one hell of an evening.” It then occurred to him that he wasn’t gay. Not as far as he could recall anyway.

He thought for a moment about getting up but decided to lie down again as he realised how to cure cancer. “Well that was easy” he said to himself as he struggled to piece together the events of the previous evening. He remembered a few drinks, but not being drunk.

Now turn this into a 99 word piece

The light streamed through the window as Wednesday stirred. His head hurt. A lot. Opening his eyes he sensed someone else in the bed next to him and rolling over saw a familiar face, still asleep.

It was the Barista from the coffee shop on the corner. He liked the way he made an americano but wasn’t sure he liked it enough to have invited him to his bed. Besides, he wasn’t convinced that his wife would approve.

Sitting up he rubbed his eyes wondering where she was and then, quite simply, he realised he knew pretty much everything.

Now turn this into a 59 word piece

Wednesday sat up in bed gasping, his pulse racing and a thousand suns exploding in his head. Where was his wife and who was this stranger in his bed?

Rubbing his eyes countless images flashed before them, and every synapse in his brain pulsated with a complete knowledge of everything.

Somehow he knew it all, everything known and unknown.

Then into 9 words

Breaking News: Man wakes up and knows absolutely everything.

Now build it back into 3 acts of 599 words

Act 1

Wednesday awoke with a start and sat upright in bed. Bright sunshine flooding into his bedroom causing him to cover his eyes as his heart racing and a headache like a thousand suns going supernova thundered in his head. Instinctively he reached out a hand but his wife wasn’t there, she hadn’t been since the accident.

“Jesus” he said to himself falling back into the bed covering his eyes, he knew hangovers but this was different. What the hell had he drank last night?

He wrapped the pillow around his head as the pain in his head began to grow. His body tensed as wave after wave of pain began to flood over him. Muscles tensed and sinews stretched and he convulsed as every synapse in his brain fired simultaneously

Through the pain he could see her face smiling at him and he could hear the sweet tones of her voice telling him that it was okay, that it would be fine if he just let it happen, that she understood why he had done what he had done.

Through gritted teeth he grimaced and shouted out.

“I can’t Emily, I cant I’m sorry but it hurts too much.”

“Just close your eyes Wednesday” she urged, “It will all be okay.”

“Im sorry Emily”2 Wednesday mumbled as the pain peaked and he cried out as he was overwhelmed and sunk into a dreamless sleep..

Act 2

When Wednesday awoke a few hours later the pain was gone and he felt an intense serenity. He could still feel her presence but the guilt was gone. Nothing mattered anymore, especially the things he had done that he revisited in the dark of night.

His heart still raced but his breathing was calmed, and as he lay watching the late afternoon sunlight dance across the walls of the room he understood everything. Something had happened to him, something he couldn’t explain, but he knew that he was changed.

In those moments of intensity something had been revealed, a gift of knowledge, and the understanding of the universe was his. He held a hand before his face and in that moment saw every atom of his being and understood the origins of humanity. He watched the sunlight stream through the window and the mysteries of the universe were revealed.

His head to one side, again succumbing to sleep, he heard her voice calling to him.

“It’s my gift to you Wednesday, for what you did.”

“I’m sorry Emily” he said remembering the first time they’d met.

“Don’t Wednesday” she said, “Just sleep my love. ”Sleep.”

Act 3

As sleep release Wednesday from her grip he stirred and felt alone. He switched on the television and watched the futility of mankind in their self-destructive pursuits.

“I can fix this” he thought to himself as he flicked through the channels, ”I can fix it all.”

“Are you ready to make amends” she asked as darkness fell across the room.

“I am” Wednesday answered. “I didn’t mean for it to end like it did” he said as he threw back the duvet.

“And when it is over, then you must relinquish all you now know.”

”And what happens to me then?” He asked. ”How can things ever be the same after what you’ve shown me?”

“Then you return to your reality Wednesday, your life, your guilt and your repentance.”

Wednesday got out of bed and pulled on the previous evenings clothes. They smelled of liquor and cigarettes and an unfamiliar perfume.

“I thought I might start by curing cancer” he suggested, buttoning his shirt.

Stripped and polished – Room 101

As the bar began to empty her long nails traced patterns on his arm.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only.

As the bar began to empty her long nails traced patterns on his arm.

“Nice colour” he said nervously

“You like it?” She asked smiling. Of course he did. They all did.

“I…erm.”

She laughed leaning over and whispering in his ear. “It’s blood red.” The feel of her breath on his skin made his head spin and her perfume filled his senses. “It’s of my own making” she continued, her nails now digging into his thigh.

“R-really” he stuttered, his jeans suddenly rather tight.

“Yes” she answered taking his hand and smiling. “Come with me I’ll show you how.”

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Frosty Goes Wild – Room 101

This one’s bloody awful. Sorry.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only.

The cold wind stole her breath and the smell of tobacco filled her nostrils as gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her throat and pushed her up against the wall.

“Mmmm” She gasped, the moon reflecting on his deathly pale skin.

“Shut up” he snapped squeezing tighter, Ice running through her veins as she looked into eyes dark as coal. You “like carrots?” he asked, his laugh echoing through the night.

Struggling against his grip she gasped as he forced her slowly to her knees.

“Damn, there really must have been some magic in that old silk hat” he said grinning wildly.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

My entry in to the Carrot Ranch #7 contest

the challenge was to do 75 words on a murderous theme as I recall

The sausages sizzled and spat in the pan as the inspector sat to the table. “Have you eaten?” she asked spooning fat over them and watching them turn from pink to golden brown “I make them myself you know”.

“Homemade? Really?” he answered. “They do smell great, what do you feed them?” He asked his mouth watering.

“Oh you’d be surprised what a pig will eat” she answered smiling “you can feed them absolutely anything.”

Swayed and seduced – Room 101

The colour spilled from Nick’s usually ruddy cheeks as he pushed open the dorm room door.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only.

Her heart raced as his hands rested on her hips and he pulled her closer. She didn’t even know his name and right now she didn’t care.

She pressed herself against him and felt the thud of the music throughout her body. His warm breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine and he whispered into her ear.

“Want to get out of here?”

She nodded, and as they left the bar her phone beeped.

Having a good time?

Bit boring babe wish you were here x see you later.

She closed the message screen and turned off the phone.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Dances with elves – Room 101

The colour spilled from Nick’s usually ruddy cheeks as he pushed open the dorm room door.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only.

The colour spilled from Nick’s usually ruddy cheeks as he pushed open the dorm room door.

“What the… ” he exclaimed marching in and shoving a small man in a cowboy outfit hard in the chest. “Explain yourself”.

The man, probably in his seventies, wore a sly grin on his face and a large bulge in his jeans. “We were just dancing sir” he said “We met at the mall and your colleagues suggested they could help me with my bulging Christmas sack.”

“Get out of here you sick bastard” Nick shouted shepherding him from the room, “leave my elves alone!”

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Carrot Ranch Random Words Challenge

107 words using ‘Acid Rain’. Easy enough right?

Wednesday dipped the nose of his tractor and sent her plunging straight through the heart of the cloud.

The radio crackled into life, “how’s it going up there mate?”

“Still early days Stella” he replied as the dash gauges confirmed he’d pulled in nearly three litres on that run.

“We need this Wednesday, everything depends on you cloud farmers.”

“I know” he snapped as he brought her around for another pass, heart racing.

“You got any quality readings yet?”

He held his breath as the sample data began to load onto his HUD.

“Negative” he cursed as the data finished loading, “acid rain, I repeat acid rain.”

Carrot Ranch Twitter Challenge

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

Omg date tonight with yummy coffee shop Barista. Eeeek.

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

He took my coat, his hand brushed mine. #chivalrynotdead

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

Lights off phone off show time. Sharing popcorn. Swoon.

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

#handholding rudely interrupted. Disturbance in the foyer. Police here?!?!

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

Getting the hell out of here. Wtf people dead!

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

Mum were heading home. Stay away from town #zombiehordes

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

They’re everywhere. No way out. Police overwhelmed, finding shelter.

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

Just saw an old lady eating a police horse…

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

#Baristaboy bitten. Hiding in Gregg’s bar. Scared mum, help!

‏ @AfterwardsBlog

He looks hungry. Worst first date EVER! #noexit goodbye…

Perfectly Imperfect – Room 101

Trash cans spilled over, their contents whipped into the sky as the air fizzed and crackled.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only. I know I said I was done with them. I lie. Probably should have wrote this in October but hey ho, better late than never. Think it works rather well as an idea given the prompt.

Joseph stood before the mirror, the face staring back a contorted mockery of his former self. He tried to smile and he raised a trembling hand to his face, slowly running his fingers along the scars.

He still remembered the pain as the fire tore through his flesh, the smell as it cooked and melted his face filling his nostrils until they too succumbed to the heat.

He turned away unable to look any more, he was too grotesque and the memories too painful.

Grabbing his coat he headed outside, at least it was Halloween and he didn’t need a mask.

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Conspicuous Coincidences – Room 101

Trash cans spilled over, their contents whipped into the sky as the air fizzed and crackled.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only. I know I said I was done with them. I lie. Oh and this has more than 101 words. Sue me.

Trash cans spilled over, their contents whipped into the sky as the air fizzed and crackled. Damien emerged through the blue hue of the portal behind ‘Mac’s Diner” and looked about checking that no one was about. Clean ups really were a pain in the arse.

He checked his watch, buttoned his long dark coat and pulled his cap over his eyes as the portal swirled closed behind him and disappeared with a POP!

“Twenty one fifteen” he said to himself heading down the alley fingering the 9mm pistol in his pocket. The steel felt reassuringly cold and smooth. All he needed to do was stop himself from making the biggest mistake of his life and everything would be different. He wouldn’t have to spend a lifetime fixing the mess he was about to make.

He watched from the alley until he saw himself pull up in the old Lincoln he’d borrowed from a friend that night. All he needed to do was to delay him long enough for Mac to close up and leave safely.

Snow began to fall as Damien crossed the road, the neon glow of the diner lights extinguished as he made his way towards the car. Approaching he saw his younger self, the glow of a cigarette illuminating his face in the darkness. God he looked so innocent.

He approached the car, his feet leaving soft tracks in the falling snow, and knocked on the window. He made himself jump and then the window rolled down.

“What?” his younger self said.

“You got a light?”

Damien took the lighter he was offered and lit his cigarette. A few minutes longer and Mac would be away. He handed it back taking care not to reveal too much of his face.

“Cold night huh” he said returning the lighter.

“Sure” he answered winding up the window.

Damien left his arm inside the window as it raised slowly. “Hey buddy, move along “ his younger self said sharply. “Beat it.”

Damien pulled the gun from pocket and raised it. “Just sit where you are and don’t move” he said taking a step back from the car. “Don’t do anything okay kid.”

Damien took a deep drag of his cigarette. Suddenly, he flicked it and reached for the door pushing it open wildly. It slammed against the arm of his older self, the pistol flying from his hand and skidding across the road. A glimmer of steel flashed in the streetlight as he stepped from the car.

Damn, he had forgotten how fast he used to be.

He stumbled to his feet and staggered to where the gun lay half buried, head spinning and the crunch of racing footsteps in the snow. His survival instincts kicked in, and falling forward he reached for the weapon and rolled onto his back bringing it to bear on himself and fired off two quick shot.

As the shells hissed in the snow he crashed down on top of himself, the knife falling from his hand. Lying on top of his killer his younger self looked into the eyes of the man beneath him, and in that moment a look of recognition flashed across his face.

“Oh Fu…” Damien said as he felt his younger self go limp, his body already disappearing into nothingness…

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Carrot Ranch Rodeo Challenge 5

In Challenge 5 of the Carrot Ranch Rodeo, writers were tasked with writing a complete 99-word story using Twitter.

In Challenge 5 of the Carrot Ranch Rodeo, writers were tasked with writing a complete 99-word story using Twitter. Of course, they couldn’t make it that simple. Every #Twitterflash story also had to be 11 sentences with exactly 9 words each. This was my effort which was singled out by one of the judges which I was dead chuffed about.

Is anyone else seeing what I’m seeing out there?

If this is how things end I’m getting drunk!

Apparently they come in peace, but my mate Jed’s disappeared!

How drunk am I because I think Im #insideaspaceship

I’ve managed to evade them, is anyone reading this?

Ive found Jed, watching him from an air vent.

Sweet Jesus, they seem to be probing him now!

How the dickens did they fit that in there!?!?.

I think the bloody things are laughing you know.

Oh bloody hell they’ve spotted me, PLEASE SEND HELP!

The visitors are our friends and come in peace.

C. Jai Ferry (@CJaiFerry) commented:

“#PickALineAnyLine! If I had seen any of these lines on Twitter, I would have immediately clicked to read more. Each line is a story in itself, and I had to read faster and faster to see how it all worked out.”

Tales of Tinsel – Room 101

101 words with a twist thrown in just because…

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only. I know I said I was done with them. I lie.

Slowly Damien sneaked downstairs, not daring to breathe. He’d heard something, and he was convinced it was him! Christmas lights twinkled as he entered the room, his heart pounding, and there he saw a bearded, round bellied man silhouetted against the moonlight.

He had him!

“Sant…” he began to shout when suddenly he noticed two bodies lying unmoving on the floor. He knew from the matching reindeer slippers it was mum and dad.

The man stepped grinning from the darkness carrying a large sack and raised a gun with his free hand and pushed it into Damien’s chest.

“Merry Christmas kid…”

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Dripping with Drudgery

‘Tis the season to be jolly, tralalalalalalalala

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.

Slumped against the cold brick of the station wall Darryl pulled the ragged hood of his coat over his head and twisted open the lid of the bottle of white lightning cider gripped between his legs. It fizzed invitingly as escaped snowflakes danced on the biting breeze and he took a deep drink watching the masses pass by.

“Funny lot aren’t they” he said passing the bottle to a dirty faced, fair haired man sat next to him.

He took a drink and passed the bottle back, yellow fingers taking a cigarette from a crumpled packet. He pulled from his pocket. “Fun to watch though” he said struggling to light it, eventually resorting to pulling his jacket over his head to provide protection from the wind. “So many of them yet all so very alone.”

“Do you think they’ll ever be ready” Darryl asked the fair haired man as the snow started to fall more heavily.

“My Friend” he replied, a fat bottomed girl in a red coat dropping pennies into the cup at his feet. “Merry Christmas” he shouted as she scurried on her way.

“There are days when I think they are going to get it right but sadly each time they fall so very short.” He ran a sleeve under his nose and sniffed. It really was rather cold, next time he would have to ensure he had a warmer placement.

“I think they could be quite great you know” Darryl said taking another drink. He coughed as he felt it trickle down inside him.

The fair haired man laughed. “You really do like them don’t you” he said drawing deep on the cigarette.

“Yes I do” Darryl replied. “They’re fun, creative, passionate, excitable, caring and…”

“And they’re violent and careless and selfish” the fair haired man interrupted.

Darryl sighed.

“I know I know“ he said picking up the cup and tipping out the coppers into his hand.

“How much did we make then” the fair haired man asked finishing the cigarette.

“One pound twenty” Darryl said, sadness etched across his face.

“And there you see my point exactly” the fair haired man said getting to his feet and dusting himself down. “All we need is a tenner, just a tenner and they’re in” he said sharply. “But they don’t care mate, not enough.”

Darryl put the change back in the cup and took another drink of the cider.

“I’m going to give it another ten minutes” he said rubbing his hands together against the cold. “I’m still on the clock and you never know, this could be the day.”

“Good luck” the fair haired man replied, “I will see you back in orbit, I really need a nice cup of tea.”

Vermicious knids

Thoughts on things which I am completely unqualified to comment upon.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we…this one is in response to the Weaving Words prompt.

I was never a political creature you know and, whilst this may surprise you, I am still not. Yes I will admit to being somewhat obsessed with writing about the Donald but that is simply because I find him a quite repulsive creature and worthy of derision and mockery because of who he is and the quite terrible things I believe him to have done.

Ever since the ascendancy of his star I have found myself more and more interested in the politics of America and if I am not careful I shall soon find that I make a liar of myself when it comes to whether I am, in fact, politically inclined.

The thing is though, I am English, so it matters very little where my persuasions lie. Curiously I find to myself far less inclined to care one jot about our very own Brexit shit storm and instead find myself compelled to understand more about just what the devil is going on across the pond.

Anyway, I have researched the basis of the political parties, delved into their history and attempted to understand as much as I can about them whilst reading as much as I could about just what is going on. I am not an over complex sort though, and find myself already making some very basic assumptions about American politics, politicians and sometimes it’s people based on very little information and the behaviour of the people who represent the parties.

It remains a work in progress, and whilst I am quite certain that I would be blue and not red where it a choice I needed to make there is something else of which I am more and more certain the more I learn. The GOP are such vicious beastly and quite ferocious creatures by all accounts that even they would make the vermicious knid seem tame by comparison. I am not sure about all of it’s members obviously, but those in positions of power that I have been looking at have left me rather shocked.

I will keep working on it, and happy to have my mind changed but I think it will be quite some stretch given what I have seen. This is not to say the other lot are a whole lot better, I am sure they are equally abhorrent if you look closely enough.

Anyway, I know I am not at all qualified to comment on such things and it is rather ignorant of me to do so but I will nonetheless. Now I will shut up.

Goodnight x and get back to writing that limerick about the chap who likes his bottom fiddling with.

Michael

P.S. It’s funny you know, when I sat down I honesty intended to write a poem about a boy who fought the knids. Oh well…

Thistles and Thorns

The things that hold us back…

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.

I’ve a tale I would tell, and it might do you well

To pay heed and perhaps give some thought

To the things that constrain and the things that we blame

And on which were eternally caught

They’re the things in our heads, that live under our beds

And that lurk when we wake late at night

Paralysed by the doubt and the voices that shout

they defeat when we just cannot fight

Or you think you’re no good and that one day you could

be redeemed if you just do not stray

so you live only just and you hope pray and trust

that divine you’ll be carried away

so we stop in our tracks and we always look back

never trying to push on ahead

and were tangled in thorns and our minds they get torn

cant make sense of the thoughts in our heads

and you’re lying there scared and your wholly ensnared

to the things you believe are the truth

now perhaps they are not but you’ve sadly forgot

how to look for a sign or some proof

Unencumbered you’d find that the world can be kind

and there’s joy to be found and much more

we can live, love and learn and eternity spurn

for there’s hope here and now, life galore

George and Alice

The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night.

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we…this one is in response to the Weaving Words prompt.

The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night. He opened the drawer and took out the pen she had given him on their 25^th anniversary, then carefully took a sheet of the finest paper from a sheath and placed it on the desk in front of him.

He rolled the pen between his fingers and smiled as he read the inscription:

“My heart remains yours always.”

He pulled his chair to the desk, made himself comfortable and began to write.

My dearest Alice

Winter has come at last it seems, and the days grow shorter and we have had the first flakes of snow this evening. Fortunately I have a good store of wood this year, and the new people on the Henderson farm have assured me they have plenty to spare should I run short. They seem very nice, though I am not quite sure they are cut out for this life. Time will tell.

I took a walk by the river this morning, the air cold and crisp and the skies blue with the feintest whisper of cloud. Sadly the old bridge we built at Millers crossing has collapsed, and I fear age would insist that I am now well beyond repairing it.

Such memories it brought back and I remembered the yellow dress you wore the day we finished it. It seems like only yesterday, and the smile you wore with it remains with me to this day. As time passes it’s funny the things we remember and those we forget. The smallest details of our life together I still recall and yet major events now seem like a story told to me by someone else.

Sometimes I do wonder whether I have forgotten days we spent together, yet my heart remains full of those that are still so clear to me.

My heart remains yours always

George

Gently placing the pen on the desk George then folded the paper and placed it in an envelope that he pulled from the bottom drawer. Sealing it he then took a bundle of identical envelopes and slowly unknotted the string that bound them together.

Taking up the pen he wrote ‘Alice’ on the front and then bundled it with the others, refastening them together with the old coarse string and placing them back in the drawer.

He smiled as he stood from the desk, pushed the chair back in and turned out the light.

It had been a good day, she would have enjoyed it he thought smiling to himself as he climbed the stairs to bed.

Room 101

So, 30 prompts, 30 days, whatever 30 times 101 words amounts to…

Thanks to Michelle for the prompt

Okay this was scheduled but I want to be done with the challenge, so I am pressing publish right now!

Now, as challenges go that was quite something . I set myself the goal of using every single November daily writing prompt from Michelle’s page and to do a 101 words on each, all on something a bit weird or odd.

As a writing experience I tackled it by writing all the prompts on a page in word and then under each I bashed out the basic outline for the story and the twist. The prompts really fired my imagination and I did the whole lot in one go and it took me about an hour or so. A few changed as I progressed but for the most part what you see on my blog is what I planned on day one.

Now I only started the challenge on the tenth of November, so I thought I would do one a day and catch up the others along the way but as it turned out I wrote the first 8 in one day (as I had a day off work) and within 7 days I had written all 30. Once I started I seemed to not be able to stop and it felt great ticking them off and completing that idea.

I’m not quite sure where I found the time but the planning helped in that I was working on them in my head before I started writing. A few took some heavy editing in terms of word count early on but by the 30^th post I could mostly write it and come in at about 100 words without trying.

What I like is that I think I could probably do something more substantial with each one so am really happy with it as a process, even if some of them are a bit crap.

Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed them and thanks again M for the prompts, they were fab! If you don’t follow Michelle you should. Do it.

Michael

Photo courtesy of pixabay