Sunday Photo Fiction – Martini

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. I heard it the other day and felt it fit quite well. If you want to have a go at Sunday Photo Fiction, then click the image, and if you want to read what other have written then click on the blue frog image.

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Charles Dickens walks into a bar and asks for a Martini.

Barman says “Olive or twist?”

Sunday Photo Fiction – A Dragon’s Tale

Every week a photo is donated to use as a prompt to create a piece of fiction in 200 words or less. The challenge runs from Sunday to Sunday, and y9ou can take part at any point in that week, not just on a Sunday.

If you want to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction, image and head over to the page. If you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue frog image below it.

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I watched the people walk past, completely oblivious to my observations and plans to lay waste to the area around. My time of watching is now over.

I smile and leap from my perch. I spread my wings to their full width and flap them; the beat of my leathery membranes cause a “wumf” and I feel the power as I soar upwards. I laugh as the humans scatter, screaming and running for cover.

“Diiieeeee!” I shout as I reach the pinnacle and turn downwards. I take a deep breath start grinding my rear teeth to start sparks. I release a billow of flame melting everything in my path. Fire leaps from house to house, from person to person. I laugh louder at the screams of terror, and the cries of the dying.

I soar upwards again and turn sharply to plummet. I fold my wings back to my sides, and release another billow of flame and watch the humans turn to ash in front of me. I see the devastation around me, and …”

The child taps the side of my perch stopping my daydreams. I can’t even move my wooden eyes since the spell turned me to this.

Friday Fictioneers – Date Night

Every week, Rochelle gives us a donated photo to use as a prompt to write a piece of fiction in around 100 words. If you want to have a go, then click on the Friday Fictioneers image, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue frog image.

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Photo © Liz Young

 “Hey babyface, how ya doin’ t’day?

Look Army, I have told you before, I am not interested

Aww, g’won. A night out wi’ me is a step up from dese fools

I don’t care. You went for a drink with Dolly and no-one has seen her since

Don’ worry ’bout ‘er. She’s arahnd somewhere

Look, Army. I am going to use small words that you will understand

Aww, don’ be like dat

NO!

WHY?

Because your dates always disappear. Where’s Dolly? Tell me that.

Okay. Ah’ll tell ya. She went on ahead an’ had a beer an’ got smashed.

SPF: Perry and the Boat

For the last three years (apart from a break of a few weeks) one of my photos has been used as a prompt for Sunday Photo Fiction, but with changes to my circumstances, I am now taking donations for the challenge.

This week’s photo is the first of the donated ones.

If you want to have a go yourself, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction image. If you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue frog image, and if you want to donate a photo for the challenge, click on the photo submission image.

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Perry And The Boat

Perry looked out at the boat anchored in the centre of the lake He eyed it as he had for the last seven days. The little boat behind it intrigued him. It was always in a different place even though there seemed to be nobody on the bigger boat.

He hired a small boat and prepared to row out to it and look for himself. The boat custodian tried to advise him against it, telling him he regularly told people not to go, but nobody listened to him.

Perry chuckled and started rowing out when he noticed the smaller boat seemed to be missing. Thinking it sat on the other side of the boat, he moored the little one on the near side. He climbed aboard, glanced over the other side, and frowned when he saw no other vessel.

He walked to the wheelhouse and found the key in the ignition. He turned it and a bright flash blinded him for a few seconds. Shielding his eyes, Perry walked out onto the deck and looked for his boat, now moored to the rear. Looking to the shore, he saw a different landscape. A very much older landscape.