Got His Goat: A Grave Story

Hey, Norima!  How you doin’?

“I’m fine, James. but I thought you took that job at the cemetery to make extra money?”

“I did.  It’s to mow the grass around the graves by 4pm every Saturday.”

“It’s 2:30 now.  Are you done already?”

“No, but farmer Nickols sold me his goat.  I tied it to a tree at the cemetery and it’s had nearly 4 hours to roam and eat the grass.”

“James!  It’s sheep that eat all that grass.  Goats eat tin cans and such.”

James began a heavy run toward the cemetery.  He shouted over his shoulder,

“Fired! First Day!”

*100 words

*I remember this prompt and the direction I took it in.  Thought it was time for a non-violent change!

Namaste,

Scott

 

iMAGEine this!

Because I had already written my “Friday Fictioneers” story of the week, I didn’t add this one in.  But, I realized here was my chance to use my favorite scene in almost all of moviedom and I had to take it.  I hope the Goddess of Flash Fiction can forgive me.

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

Jill and Sam skipped down the path, ignoring the “Do Not Pass” sign standing on sticks.

Around the bend was a rocky bridge between the mountains.  It was foggy there.

As they crossed, a group came into view.  The tallest, a bearded man in a flowing robe stepped forward and slammed a walking stick into the ground.

“You Shall NOT Pass!” he yelled, lightning flicking from the stick.

“Sam!  Why are you red and have a tail,” Jill nearly screamed.

“Don’t know.  Also, can’t figure out why I wanna take a swing at the old geezer!”

* If you just HAVE to read the 1st official story for Friday Fictioneers – > here

Namaste,

Scott

Here’s Your Sign

Friday Fictioneers Entry for the Week.

copyright – Bjorn Rudberg

Jonathon walked slowly up the pass.  He came to a bend and saw the sign.

“Why would I put my hand out like that?”  He smiled and kept walking.

Upon coming round the bend, he saw the old man with the shotgun pointing at his head.

His hand went up, exactly like the sign.

The gun blast echoed around the mountains.

The old codger spit green onto the dirt path and grumbled mightily.

“Dern feriners cant foller signs even wit a drawin.”

He sighed, rolled the body off the mountain and sat back on the gold waiting for his brother.

Word Count:  100 words

Namaste,

Scott

This was my first official one of the week.  If you want to see my favorite (written too late) –> Here

A Whimsical Tale

Friday Fictioneers is run by Rochelle. This week’s  picture prompt comes to us by way of Sandra Crook.  Enjoy other stories Here.

 

I stood in front of the nearly-ruined building.  The streetlight standing in front looked just like one from the video game “Fallout 4”.  I marveled at the way the structure managed to remain standing, again like “Fallout 4”.  As I continued my search, my gaze settled on the Smart Car sitting in front of the building.  I had always wanted one of those.  Suddenly, it started its own engine, then simply pulled forward a few yards and took off…from the ground and into the air!  Was there someone inside?  Was the door gone? My! Now, I want one of THOSE!

 

100 Words – Namaste,

Scott

Welcome to My Parlor

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers.  This is a weekly writing exercise where you, use up to 100 words (no more) to write a complete story based on a photo prompt.  This week’s photo is from Sarah Potter.  Thanks, Sarah.  I had great fun with this one.  If you want to read more stories (or do one of your own) click here –> More Stories <–  The entire shingding is hosted by Rochelle.

 

 

 

Welcome to My Parlor – Word Count 100 By Scott L Vannatter

George really liked, maybe loved, Sarah.  So, when she called him over to see the new spider “home” because he was a “web” designer, he rushed to her place.  Sure enough, it was an amazing web, in the kitchen, quite large and looking out-of-place.

“You should see the one in my bedroom,” Sarah said behind him.

George turned to smile at the innuendo and started screaming.  There was Sarah, six extra furry arms, sticking out from her back.

She used four of them to pick George up like he was nothing.  A spider’s mouth spoke to him.

“My children are…hungry.”

Namaste,

Scott