Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers
copyright Janet Webb
Cartman
Ross polished the bars of the shopping cart until they shone. He had status now and he had to act accordingly.
After Boom-day, when gasoline ran out, bicycles were big. But as tires cracked and chains broke, they were discarded. Now, the man with a shopping cart was king.
Ross overtook Jenks on Broadway, carrying a huge load on his back. Ross nodded officiously; Jenks sneered.
“So high and mighty with your cart, aren’t you? But that front wheel is wobbling pretty bad. How long until you’re like me?”
Never, Ross thought. He was somebody now. He couldn’t go back.
36 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, post apocalyptic, Shopping cart, status | posted in Friday Fictioneers
copyright Sandra Crook
The World is my Stage
“1 billion hits by midnight or New York City is gone!” screamed the title of the live Internet feed. Seven hours left: 540,000,000 hits needed. The CIA considered them a credible threat and now the whole world watched, breath held.
Jason sat in front of the nuclear weapon mock-up, webcam capturing everything except his own screen. Members were reporting from all over the country. Everything was almost ready, and then the real strike, the hammer blow of vengeance, would fall.
The first rule of sleight of hand, Jason thought. Keep the audience focused anywhere but where the real action is.
46 Comments | tags: bomb, crime, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Internet, nuclear weapon, sleight of hand, terrorism, video | posted in Friday Fictioneers
I admit: I found this prompt pretty hard, although it doesn’t help that I’ve been pretty tired for the last few days. I vacillated between dark and humour and ended up with dark humour.
Copyright E.A. Wicklund
Enough to Go Around
“I never saw the harm, you know?” Dean said. His seventh beer was leaking into his words. “Girls fighting over you—that’s good, right?”
The same old story.
“I was dating Amy then,” he said. “You remember Amy? The wrestler?”
“I remember.”
“It was after a tournament and her friend starts flirting with me. Awesome! Then Amy finds us, grabs my arm. Her friend grabs my other arm. I say, ‘Ladies, there’s enough of me to go around.’” He starts crying.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” I ease his coat over his cold, prosthetic arms and lead him outside.
44 Comments | tags: dark humor, dismemberment, fiction, fighting, flash fiction, flirting, Friday Fictioneers, girls, prosthetics, woman | posted in Friday Fictioneers
Well, it’s Friday Fictioneers time again. First of all, my apologies for not being able to read very many stories last week. I was out in the mountains for most of the week and even though I had a smart phone, it is very difficult to read a lot on it as well as write meaningful comments. I will do better this week.
Copyright Rich Voza
Teenager, blue hat:
“They say the house’s invisible; only the doors are visible.”
Teenager, smoking:
“I heard it’s haunted.”
Teenager, red hair:
“My brother’s friend knew a guy who said the red one leads to Hell.”
Blue hat:
“I heard if you say ‘bloody skull’ in front of the white one at midnight, a witch appears.”
Red hair:
“They say they glow on Halloween.”
Smoking:
“They oughta know.”
Old man, long scar, approaches:
“I got caught in the white door when I was young. There really is a witch there.”
All three:
“Shut up, old man. You’re such a liar!”
38 Comments | tags: fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, ghosts, Halloween, haunted, hearsay, rumor | posted in Friday Fictioneers
This week is a major holiday in Korea called Chuseok, which is like Thanksgiving. I am on the road now and writing this from a hotel room. Luckily, it had a computer, or I would have to write it on my phone.
copyright John Nixon
The elderly man stood in the doorway of the shop, facing a mannequin in a white dress.
“I know you don’t talk much,” he said, “but I’ve seen you here, day after day as I pass by and I wanted to tell you that I really like you. Would you have dinner with me sometime?”
I felt pity for him. The poor, senile man had fallen in love with a mannequin. Should I say anything?
At that moment, a middle-aged woman stepped from behind the mannequin, blushing furiously.
The man beamed. “There you go. You don’t need to be shy.”
48 Comments | tags: Chuseok, confession, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, love, Mannequin, old man | posted in Friday Fictioneers
copyright Jan Wayne Fields
Gotterdammerung
We couldn’t face New York City sober, so out came the last of the whiskey and we danced a frenzied, forgetful dance on the deck of the last fishing boat in the Atlantic.
Around 6am, the boat entered the Narrows, the AI effortlessly navigating the spidery, rust corpse of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.
Belle crawled to the railing and peered ahead into the darkness. “There’s hope, right? Deep down in the subway system. People could survive.”
I nodded, took another drink.
The sun rose and Belle suddenly laughed and pointed. “She’s still there, torch held high. There’s still hope after all.”
50 Comments | tags: apocalypse, boat, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Götterdämmerung, New York City, post apocalyptic, Verrazano-Narrows Bridge | posted in Friday Fictioneers
Knick-Knack Paddy Whack
Gut-twist, I call it—that hard, acidy stomach punch that comes when I smell the bright-red odor and see the crimson flowers blooming all over the walls and floor.
I do clean-up. Paddy lets all the red out and I collect it up in a bag, along with Miss Gone-Far-Away (it’s always Miss).
Paddy laughs at my knick-knacks, calls me a baby. But he lets me do it ‘cuz Miss Gone-Far-Away don’t need them anymore. So I take a coin, a charm, maybe a watch.
Sorry, I whisper to them every night. Sorry you met Paddy. I just do clean-up.
(Find this confusing? Want an explanation? Click here.)
49 Comments | tags: creepy, crime, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, knick-knack, mass murder, murder, souvenir | posted in Friday Fictioneers
copyright Dawn M Miller
If I Were a Poor Man
“If I were a poor man, my dear,” he said, “I would come here and imagine buying you these jewels. I would get a second job, just to buy one diamond for your beautiful, swan-like neck.”
She looked at him quizzically. “But you’re not a poor man. You just bought this mall.”
“But I want you to know that I would. Would it mean more to you if I did get a job? If I worked hard to buy you some token of my love?”
“That’s dumb. Let’s just buy some now.”
He sighed. “Fine. Pick out what you’d like.”
57 Comments | tags: fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Jewelry, marriage, poor, romantic, Shopping, wealth | posted in Friday Fictioneers
The Green-Walled Tower 