Roger Moore 14th October 1927 – 23rd May 2017
Roger Moore 14th October 1927 – 23rd May 2017
Every week a photo is used as a prompt to create a story in around two hundred words using the picture as the basis of the story. The image could be the main focal point of the story, or it could be just one word in the background.
If you want to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction image below, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue image with the frog on it.
“What are you doing out at 3 in the morning? You were supposed to be home at midnight.”
“I got carried away and didn’t notice the time. I’m on my way home now”
“No, you are not going to have a pet.”
“No, and you can tell your dad I said no as well”
“I love you, you know that right?”
“I love you as well … and … you’re going to be a dad”
“I’m sorry, I can’t take any more of this. I am ruined.”
“Look, it may seem like that now, but this could be a blessing”
“How? I’m bankrupt!”
“I never fell for you for your money”
“… and you can tell that worthless piece of …”
“No, tell him yourself. He’s on his way to yours now. If I were you, I’d start running”
“He doesn’t scare me. I can take care of myself.”
“Take your clothes off for me and let me see you…”
“But what if my mummy walks in”
Gotcha! Geoff had been working the phones for weeks trying to find the paedophile. He checked the address and grabbed his baseball bat.
Unique in their difference
Disparate in their likeness
Legions moved, carried by wing
Opposed to the wingless, walking below
The walking, armed with spear and stone
The flying, with rocks of fire
Ready to send the other home
To rest atop a funeral pyre
The war they fought, never ending
How it started, neither knew
Both sides tarried, never bending
Never remembering why they slew
As is the normal in a war
Something remarkable oft takes place
As killing the other becomes a chore
Slaughtering, never seeing the face
Until one time, a life depended
A woman’s life begins to fade
The man who finds her, hate rescinded
He finds her ‘midst a bloodied glade
Back to health, he heals her wounds
She looks into his soulful eyes
Her heart starts singing loving tunes
She steals a kiss, then off she flies
Now he tries to end the war
Saying they fight for no good reason
They say they’ve heard it all before
And sentence him to death for Treason
She tells her lords to think things over
Asks if they remember why they die
Her questions make them sit up, sober
They see the love inside her eye
A truce is called before the others
They soon find out silence is golden
And now they see forbidden lovers
And to them, their lives beholden
A senseless war cost millions of lives
Fought with sticks and bombs and spears and guns
The deaths of many husbands, wives
Brothers, sisters, daughters sons.
And so a peace reigns through the land
With grateful children, fathers, mothers.
As two walk out, hand in hand
The war was stopped by forbidden lovers.
© A Forbes 2017
Every week a photo is used as a prompt to write a story in around 200 words. If you want to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction image below, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue image with the frog below that.
He leaned forward and looked at it. The clarity of it amazed him. The veins on the wings stood out so clearly. Each hair on the head, the eyes were incredible. Each little facet its own window into the world. The stripe down its back so clear, with each tiny hair on either side of it making the brown stand out. The fly didn’t move when a single droplet of clear liquid hit the keyboard beside it. The head just tilted slightly to the right, and then twisted to the left.
Then … nothing.
The fly looked at it, the big beast sat there. It pulled a needle from its arm and then a smile crossed the face, one of bliss and pleasure.
Then the fly watched it as it leaned forward, seemingly examining it. The breaths were ragged and laboured. A smile spread across the face as if it were looking at the fly for the first time. The fly looked at the spoon and syringe, and then back at the beast. It saw a droplet fall from the head and land beside it.
The beast’s eyes rolled back into its head and fell forward, no longer breathing.
A poem ... A story ... A Photo ... Something Else
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