friday fictioneers

Flash Fiction: Treasures

Beth and Ben stared at the mess lying on grandpa’s bed.

They took one last look inside the wardrobe they had freshly emptied. Dejected, they ran down the stairs to their grandfather. Puffing their cheeks the little twins stood between grandpa and the television.
“Grandpa is a liar,” the two declared in unison.
Grandpa adjusted his spectacles.
“When did I lie?”
The kids led him up to his bedroom. They pointed to the empty wardrobe.
“You said grandma kept her treasures here before going to heaven.”
Grandpa smiled looking at the mess on his bed.

“I never lied. They’re here.”


Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 25th Oct 2019
PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Flash Fiction: Dad’s Glasses

Dad was always mysterious.

Mother quarreled with him over his secretive lifestyle. However, he never changed his ways. He would spend hours in our library, buried under piles of books. He never seemed to read them, rather he just skimmed through. Mother had developed a resentment towards books and did not step inside the library, and I simply wasn’t allowed there. One day, while dad was away on a trip, I snuck in. I wore his glasses and began going through his books. It was then I understood his obsession. The glasses highlighted certain words – clues.

To grandpa’s treasure maybe?


Word Count: 100

Prompt: Friday Fictioneers 13th September 2019
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Flash Fiction: My Meanstalk

Kids are supposed to be naughty.

They hardly have any ill intent behind their actions. I’m not such a kid. I mean every cuss word I throw. I don’t hide behind my cute smile, I proudly flash my evil grin. This time, my family will feel my anger. They actually thought they could ground me. Well, they were wrong. This plant I ordered online will help me. It has only been three hours since I planted its seed and it has already spread so much. My plant will soon cover the entire house. Grow, my meanstalk, spread all over.

Bwahahahaha!


Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 6th Sep, 2019
PHOTO PROMPT © Penny Gadd

Flash Fiction: Childhood Revisited

Alcohol makes humans do weird things.

I guess, after a point, we just want to feel young again. Alcohol helps with that. A few pegs down, my neighbours begin to think that they are young men and women. Once the booze really begins to flow, they begin revisiting their childhood. They are at it right now. I can see them holding on to each other and I can hear them making choo choo sounds – a human train. There goes the train, picking up speed. Okay, I think I need to be out there.

These old trains tend to derail faster…


Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 30th August, 2019

Flash Fiction: The Orca Tale

I grinned at my girlfriend as we seated ourselves at our table. She winked at me.
“So, this is the famous Captain’s Shack, your favorite restaurant. I finally get to see why you rave about it so much.”
“Ooo yes! Look’s great yea?”
“It does. But what’s with the orca..”
I placed a finger on her lips.
“Shhh! Just don’t ask that.”
She slapped my finger away.
“But why shouldn’t I ask about the Orca?”
I heard the Captain’s booming voice from behind me.
“The Orca you say?…”

An hour into the c/Captain’s tale, she realised she should’ve never asked…


Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 23rd August 2019
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Flash Fiction: No Tresspassing

This wasn’t a place I wanted to be in.

The writing on the wall was literal and figurative – No Tresspassing. Everyone in town knew that these folks meant it. No one dared venture into territory controlled by the Videlli Family. They were unsavory characters and had dealings in all things illegal. However, here I was, looking for my Dalmation, Onyx. He had wandered off into these streets, chasing some stray. After sneaking around for fifteen minutes, I found Onyx snuggling with that stray. Only, that stray was wearing a tag that read Videlli.

It figured. Onyx was into bad girls…


Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers, 9th August 2019

Flash Fiction: Seaplane

It was their first time in a seaplane.

The Theeves excitedly looked out of the windows as they sped along the coastline. They ooohed and aaahed at the natural beauty of the views. It was turning out to be their best trip and getting the seaplane now looked like a brilliant idea. As they landed, Mr. Theeve turned to his wife.
“Well, wasn’t that fun?”
She smiled and nodded.
“Yes, darling. It was the best.”
Mr. Theeve kissed his wife.
“Now, we need to get rid of this plane, before they track us down and jail us for stealing it…”


Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 2nd August 2019
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Flash Fiction: Train to Minesville

The train sounded its final whistle.

Slowly, it began chugging out of the station. I looked on with tears in my eyes, as my friends waved goodbye to me. I waved back until they went beyond my horizon. My parents told me that I would be going to a place called Mineville, and that it was nothing like my village. It was a huge city where people could dig out gold with their hands. That’s what my parents told me, but I don’t believe them. I saw them taking money from the people in the black suits.

They’d sold me…


Word Count: 100

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 26th July 2019

Flash Fiction: What The World Has Come To

“Hey there, mate.”

The old guard turned around to see a bunch of teenagers step out of their flashy cars. They were dressed up opulently and reeked of booze.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“Is the washroom here?”

“No, sir. It is further ahead. This is the art exhibition.”

“Well, the art looked like shit, so we thought it was the loo.”

The teenagers guffawed and sped away.

The old guard lit a cigarette and turned towards the main exhibit.

“That’s right. Cover your face so that you don’t have to see what the world has come to.”


Word Count: 99

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 19th July 2019

Flash Fiction: Future Art

This was boring.

I should have expected this when I signed up for the ‘Art of the Future’ fair. However, my then alcohol fuelled brain had failed to consider how boring the endeavour could be. The art structure in front of me was titled ‘Fuel of the Future’. The artist was proudly presenting it as his vision of a post ten year future: Flying cars which recharged with giant plugs. I shrugged as I clicked my chronometer and travelled twenty years into the future, where I hailed from.

I tsked as I saw the streets still crowded by cars…


Word Count: 99

Prompt:

Friday Fictioneers 12th July 2019