Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers

This is a 100-word (or so) story done, once a week, from the photo prompt that comes from Madison Woods at http://madison-woods.com/091412-2/.

From Tree to Shining Tree – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers – a wonderful collection of a photo-based 100 word story.  >HERE<

Picture Courtesy of Sandra Cook.

It was nearly dark, that weird time when shadows played with the minds.
The elder tree did not mind the games, but had not time at the moment.  He had a calling.

The open knothole, turned up, began to glow and a pale yellow light shot forth to the clouds.
The beam bounced off clouds, sailed from any surface, striking all other trees who responded in kind.

Slowly, they started to move, ripping their roots from the ground. Their many legs now carried them faster and faster across landscapes, crushing homes and people in their wake.

The invasion had begun…finally.

 

Word count: 100 words

Namaste,

Scott

Advertisements

Birds of a Feather – Flock Me!

Friday Fictioneers, a short, 100 word, story writing adventure comes to us each week.

Joseph Martin held the Myna.  He thought about squeezing hard, the problem going away, but he hesitated; he was lost.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered.  “You guys take shiny things, but a small closed knife, 2-inch piece of pine, and 47 wood screws doesn’t make sense. What else have you taken?”

The bird cocked its head, seeming comprehension.  It let out a bird cry that could shatter glass.  Joe decided his first thought was right, beginning to squeeze.

Through the open door flew 53 Mynas, rescuing their comrade.  After, Mr. Martin lay dead, pecked to death as his wife had never done.

Word Count: 100 PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

You Don’t Know Jack

.

.

He sat atop a hill near the town, looking it over in the way he had.  It wasn’t quite a sneer, but most folks would say it was.  He was watching the soft white tufts as they floated quietly down on the burg, blanketing it.  It was a light falling, building up only about 1/8 inch an hour or so.  He smiled quietly to himself, the sneer growing more pronounced.  It etched into his long face.

“Yep.  Soft white beautiful flakes.  So innocent.  Let’s see what they think of it in about 90 days!”  He laughed.  “Gotta live up to my name!”

Word Count: 100

Photo Credit to Sarah Potter for this week’s Friday Fictioneers.

*Unfortunately, I missed this one.  So, here it is, late, but still…

Namaste,

Scott

Friday Fictioneers – By the Light of the Silvery Moon

This week’s photo prompt comes to us from Ted Strutz.

He stood on the deck knowing, dreading, and loving all at the same time.  He removed his shirt.  The biggest problem, he knew, would be the water.  He didn’t like the water, especially, now.  The all too familiar tingle and fever started.  He felt the sweat rise on his brow.  Below he heard the dancing and gaiety centering on the bride and groom, his neighbors and friends.

9:41pm he could not longer think.  It happened quickly.  The growl escaped his throat and he smelled the air, the night, and the blood.  He headed downstairs and screaming started.

 

100 words – Namaste,  Scott

The Vigil (Coincidentally, My 1,000th Post)

As a fiction writer, sometimes, I have difficult tasks.  As, primarily, a horror writer, those tasks can become very uncomfortable.  I almost didn’t send this story, but the writer in me got the best of me.  It touches on some hard, difficult spots.  I realized that that’s what horror should do.  It should leave you feeling raw and exposed, scared and nervous.  Please understand as you read.  Scott

The Vigil

By Scott L Vannatter for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

People of all ages had come to the memorial, candle in hand.  The 7 who had been shot at the mall were neighbors, friends, even family in the small Indiana town.  Something this horrendous had never happened to most of these individuals and they were scared, sad, and horrified.  The sheriff and several deputies stood around watching the crowd.  Even during this event, looters and pickpockets could happen.  So close to a holiday made things even worse, if that was possible.

He had paid his respects earlier.  His duties had pulled him long before he had spoken to many and gotten to know them better.  He didn’t expect friendship, but knowledge helped all the same.  A tear ran down his cheek, but it wasn’t really sadness, more of a reverence or prayer.  From the courthouse tower he loaded the first magazine and clicked it into place.  So many here.  He might just outdo Vegas yet.

word count: 155

My story was inspired by this week’s picture which has kindly been provided by Elaine Farrington Johnson. 

The Journey of My Left Foot (whilst remembering my son)

I have Malignant Melanoma, my son had Testicular Cancer

Failing at Haiku

My poetry about flowers, faith, and family.

Thomas Carswell

Some kind of human

Christine's Collection

My streams of thought meet here

Michael Wynn

Musings from the edge of an English summer

Spiritual Biscuits

Another life journey with lots of English biscuits to nibble along the way.

Just Joyfulness

Celebrating joy

Sascha Darlington's Microcosm Explored

Sascha Darlington emerges from her cocoon to investigate her world.

%d bloggers like this: