Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers
Copyright Jennifer Pendergast
Standing on the Edge of Realities
“I’m such an idiot! I walked through that arch, back to this world, and I find her sleeping with my co-worker. I came back—gave up paradise—all for her! Stupid! I can’t go back now—the magic’s all gone—and I’m stuck forever in this tepid modern world. I just want to belong somewhere: I’m only an outsider now.”
The cop was having a heck of a first day on the job. “That’s terrible, sir. Really. If you’ll just step back from the edge of the bridge, I’ll buy you a coffee and you can tell me more about it.”
58 Comments | tags: betrayal, bridge, fantasy, fiction, first day, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, magic, other worlds, police, suicide, woman | posted in Friday Fictioneers
Hi everyone, did you think I would miss Friday Fictioneers this week? I’m over 24 hours late from when I usually post this, but I wasn’t feeling inspired. The problem with doing these every week for so long is that I don’t want to write just any story and if I don’t get an idea I really like, I just keeping thinking and thinking. I don’t know if this is exactly a good story, but it’s unapologetically bizarre, and that’s okay in my books.
copyright Erin Leary
Foggy Bottom Brain Surgery
Dr. Singh was sweating like . . . there was no better analogy than what he was at that moment: a doctor performing brain surgery on the king of the Bhligli, whose cognitive organ was in their buttocks. The Blighli never thought sitting down.
The tumor was an active thing, dodging the scalpel and hiding in the forest of alien ganglia.
“More suction, the whole thing is filling up with fog.”
Slurp. A greenish appendage disappeared up the vacuum tube. The nurse cringed under his wrathful look. “Do you think that was important?”
“For the sake of the human race, I hope not.”
54 Comments | tags: aliens, brain surgery, doctor, fiction, flash fiction, fog, Friday Fictioneers, funny, science fiction | posted in Friday Fictioneers
As a writer, I’m intrigued with situations where there is no easy answer. A story is so much more complex when you can sympathize with all parties and put yourselves in their shoes. As you read this story, ask yourself what you would have done. I’m curious to know.
copyright Sandra Crook
Mob Mentality
The mob of infected surrounded the car, their pounding fists turning it into a drum.
“How can you?” they screamed. “Where’s your heart? We’ll die without that medicine.”
Craig keyed the loudspeaker. “There are only ten doses left. We need them to replicate more or millions could die. I’ll return in two days.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
“Sir, I can’t get through,” the driver said. “They will eventually overturn the car.”
“Run them down,” Craig said finally. As the car bumped forward and the screams increased, he punched the dashboard. “Idiots! Can’t they see I’m trying to help?”
41 Comments | tags: fear, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, infection, medicine, mob, outbreak, sickness | posted in Friday Fictioneers
copyright B.W. Beacham
Same Difference
“The secret to the mud is the nutrients,” Grandpa said. “Nutrients!”
“Mm, Nutrasweet, got it,” Jay said, concentrating on his game.
“Pay attention!” Grandpa snapped. “Whitmore Mud Masks is yours when I die. Now, there is only one place where you can get the perfect mud. It’s in Tibet.”
After Grandpa’s funeral, Jay tried to remember what his grandfather had said. All he could remember was Fruit Ninja. He went out to the bay and dug up some mud there. Same difference.
After several complaints of green skin and weeds sprouting from people’s faces, Jay started studying maps of Tibet.
50 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, mud, quirky | posted in Friday Fictioneers
Well, I’m back from the hospital and back into my routine. My apologies for not being able to read many stories last week, but I’ll make up for it this week, I promise. Also, although my Monday post, Drowning Day, was supposed to be humor, it was rather dark, so I’m sorry (to those who prefer my lighter stories) for another dark story today. I have a funny one coming up on Friday this week.
Also, since this is a horror story, I will dedicate it to my friend, K.Z. Morano, whose book 100 Nightmares just came out.
copyright Renee Heath
Waxy Wolly
Do you know Waxy Wolly, that goblin with the soft, melty face, drooping eyes flickering like malevolent candles? May he never come to your house.
Many a mother has looked into a cradle to see her baby staring up, a living effigy of that happy, laughing soul of only an hour before. And then when she washes it in hot water or puts it near the fire . . .
No one believes me. They all think I killed them. But there are no bodies to convict me. Just a waxy stain in front of the hearth, like someone spilled a large candle.
47 Comments | tags: creepy, death, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, horror, monster, wax | posted in Dark, Friday Fictioneers
I’m lying in a hospital bed after having had knee surgery, writing this on my phone. That’s right: nothing stops me from doing Friday Fictioneers!
The Song of the Old Country
“At first it was a scuffle, and then a big kerfuffle. How we all did grieve when we had to leave.”
Grandpa’s songs always started like that. Then he would sing about the paradise of the old country before the war.
Grandpa’s light-hearted songs could not prepare me for the reality. Even as an adult and wearing a radiation suit, my eyes filled with tears as I looked out over the blighted wasteland.
I turned to go when a flash of green caught my eye. A clump of clover had burst from the poisonous ground. Grandpa’s old country was returning.
37 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, hope, song, war | posted in Friday Fictioneers
copyright Douglas M. MacIlroy
The Birth of History
Hector’s breath hissed through the ventilator and he surveyed the delivery room through the windows of his mask. All outside sounds were muffled, including the wail of his newborn son, lying in its mother’s arms.
“The doctor says all is well,” she said. “He can breathe normally.”
Hector nodded. “I wish I could touch him.”
“At home. The atmosphere is optimized for all three of us there.”
“Do you think he will be alright?”
His wife took his gloved hand. “He will be celebrated. The first offspring between a Terran and a Venusian is a cause for joy, not shame.”
68 Comments | tags: aliens, baby, birth, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, newborn, science fiction, Venus | posted in Friday Fictioneers
Copyright D Lovering
Homecoming
The whole town was there, standing in hushed anticipation for the return of Senor Najera’s son from the war.
“He was wounded,” someone whispered. “Hit by the enemy’s new weapon.”
The ship approached, the gangplank descended, and Mateo Najera appeared. The crowd gasped.
The rags of the once-proud army uniform were stretched over the misshapen, hulking figure that shambled off. One huge eye lolled at them, roaming witlessly.
Senora Najera tore from her husband’s restraint. “Stop!” he shouted. “What if he’s contagious?”
“He’s still my baby,” she said and ran to embrace him until her tears wet his festering skin.
98 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, homecoming, love, monster, Mother, mutation, Spain, war | posted in Friday Fictioneers
I’m a bit weird when it comes to Friday Fictioneers. I look at the picture, try to find the most likely story, then do something completely different. To me, this picture has the look of fantasy, so I avoided that. That’s just me though; I look forward to seeing what everyone else comes up with.
copyright Kent Bonham
Demon in the Light
“The book’s published.”
With those words, everything I had worked for started slipping away.
“Why do you think Walt did it?” I asked. “Why did he ruin his legacy and put our whole organization in jeopardy?”
“I guess he wanted a clear conscience.”
“But at what expense?”
Demon in the Light was a bestseller. The autobiography of Walt Brody, the founder of Asian Mercy, meticulously detailed his life of secret crime.
Now our donations are in freefall and I’m desperately trying to convince people to keep giving, for the children. And I keep wishing Walt had kept his veneer intact.
50 Comments | tags: autobiography, charity, confession, crime, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, organization, secret | posted in Friday Fictioneers
There is a certain creative freedom when it comes to writing. I am aware that the word “nobbly” is not strictly a word. However, when I saw this picture, the words “nobbly chopsticks” came into my head, with that spelling too. The word means something that is bent or horribly contorted, as you will see.
copyright John Nixon
Nobbly Chopsticks
“Nobbly chopsticks are a way of life!” the teacher shouted. The students were seated in the cafeteria, each with a pair of chopsticks as straight as a question mark after an earthquake. “You make the most of what you’ve been given. If Life gives you one leg, you make do! If Life gives you nobbly chopsticks . . . ?”
“You make do,” the students echoed. They started eating, or attempted to. Only one in five could even grasp the noodles at all.
The teacher spied one boy holding the bowl, slurping the broth. “Hey you! What are you doing?”
“Life gave me hands . . .”
88 Comments | tags: chopsticks, common sense, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, nobbly, noodles, school, teacher | posted in Friday Fictioneers
The Green-Walled Tower 