Tag Archives: friday

Friday Fictioneers – From the Mountaintops

© Dee Lovering
© Dee Lovering

I’ll tell you an inconvenient truth- the sun has always been expanding.  It’s a star; it grows until it explodes.  It was just sitting up there the whole time, like a big stupid time bomb.  Tick tock! Tick tock!

No one knew what it meant at first, but they quickly found out with the rising water and scorching heat.  Some herded to the mountaintops to avoid drowning, but they’ll melt sooner.  Others went ahead and took the dive.  But most people herded like sheep to the middle ground, quickly running out of food and fresh water.

Go ahead and start eating each other, stupid idiots! Ya’ll will be soup soon anyway!


Friday Fictioneers – Burnt

© Roger Bultot
© Roger Bultot

It’s amazing how much can change so quickly.

One minute it’s there, the next – Poof!  Into smoke and ash.

Everything is flammable with enough lighter fluid.

People take so much for granted.

Consumerism has caused more deaths, more wars than any fire has.

I’ll teach people not to choose a new TV over an old friend.

Live in comfort, not in commodities.

The most important things are immaterial, and those can’t be burned.

Even with all these matches and gasoline, I can’t torch away my hatred for them.

Believe me, I’ve tried.

Where do you think these burns came from?

Friday Fictioneers – Symmetry

© Jennifer Pendergast
© Jennifer Pendergast

They say that the human mind looks for symmetry.  That’s part of what we perceive as beauty.  It also helps us logically form patterns which allows us to comprehend and store information in a more efficient way.

I’m going to be honest: I’m asymmetrical.

I don’t have my life together: it’s catawampus.  I’m stumbling over myself.

I’m going to be honest again: you’re asymmetrical, too.

That’s not to say you’re not beautiful- you are!  I’m just relating your undeniable mess of financial burden and decaying health to mine.

I just ask you stay with me, because when we stare face-to-face, eye-to-eye, we’re beautifully in symmetry.

Friday Fictioneers – Meaning Over Volume

©David Stewart
©David Stewart

“Where are they?!” they demanded.

She stared back.

“You’re grounded until we get them back.”

The pipe organ began to play, filling the room with sound and drowning out the congregational chatter that allowed her parents’ scolding to fall on deaf ears.

Her parents began to sing loudly, but the words meant nothing to them anymore.

Between verses, the preacher shouted the verse of the day, 1 Kings 19:12.

“One bag of pills is in my inner coat pocket.  Another in a pair of socks.  I don’t want you to have them anymore,” she whispered, but her truth was drowned out by their own voices.

Friday Fictioneers – Rolling Stone

© Copyright – Rachel Bjerke
© Copyright – Rachel Bjerke

In a town that stood still, I was the boy who couldn’t.  People were born, raised, taught, married, worked, and died in the same town without ever seeing the outside world.  There were never new streets, signs, roads, businesses or houses, only new generations.

I couldn’t do it.

I can’t have my history repeat itself because I haven’t forgotten it yet.  I can’t forget being in L.A., Taipei, Vienna, or Amsterdam while my only connections to that small town died.  I’ve had many apartments, hotel rooms, houses, but I was gone when I lost my home.  But you know what they say; “A rolling stone gathers no moss.”

Friday Fictioneers – The Inevitable Cycle

© Sandra Crook

A troop of tanks crushed the forest floor under its tracks: now a squished mix of weeds, dirt, and blood.  The blood doesn’t mix and rises to the top, creating a demolished field of crimson.

A soldier sits on a stump of a tree blown over by blasts.

“Men’s thirst for power is engraved into them, but it is a different kind of natural.

“While above ground, we destroy the Earth in our battles, but one day soon, the Earth will win the war, and we will be under it.

“Our bodies will crumble into compost and regrow what we’ve done.”

Part of weekly Friday Fictioneers where writers write short stories in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt.

Friday Fictioneers – Acclimation

© Erin Leary

I remember a couple years ago, after getting into a shouting match with my mom’s boyfriend about my report card, running outside and hiding behind the old tool shed.

My neighbor, Tom, who’s a couple years older than me, saw me crying.  He came over, sat with me, and handed me a cigarette.

“I could hear you guys from my room,” he said while he lit it.  It put me into a coughing fit.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said as he handed me another.  And, eventually, I did.

I guess I’ve gotten used to a lot of things.