Tag Archives: friday fictioneers

Fall of Our Discontent

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

 

I did not feel at all like writing yesterday when I saw the prompt, so I waited.  Hope it was worth it! This is for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle.

Fall of Our Discontent

By Scott L Vannatter 100 Words

The ice had come early. Last several years had been off. Everyone said not to worry, it had happened before.

“Bullshit!” thought Karohl. She was 42 and it had never been quite like this. Worldwide was changing. Badly.

Now, she was bundled, backpacked, and heading. The familiar yellow vehicle stopped, not full with children, but with people heading out. Heading South. Away from … this.

As they pulled away, Karohl looked the sky. The icy blackness would be here by nightfall. She just hoped they were far enough away before 6 inches of ice came down. It was October 10th.

Namaste,

Scott

Friday Fictioneers – A Memory…A Fear…Glad I am Older

Friday Fictioneers is here again.  100 words – full story – based on photo prompt.  Run by Rochelle.

When was growing up, I was fortunate enough to know 5 of my great grandparents, the last one passing when I was about 16.  Mom’s  grandparents (4) were from Kentucky and we would visit them a few times a year.  One of them lived very high up in the mountains, used 2 horses or mules to pull his plow to plant and harvest his small tobacco field.  He would also milk his cow every day.  The story below is not fully true, but did come from some memories and fears combined when I was young.  Enjoy!

Photo provided by PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name

Well, Crap

Little Timmy walked the poorly-lit path toward the outhouse of his great grandparents. The weeds were taller than Timmy and he could no longer see the house when he glanced back. He heard the large bumble bees on the weeds. The 25 yard trek seemed to take forever.

Finally arriving, Timmy settled in and prepared to sit over the pitch-colored hole. A noise got his attention and he looked in the dark corner at a five-foot rattlesnake on the floor of the small building. Tommy made it back to the house before realizing his pants were still in the outhouse.

Word Count: 100

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Namaste,

Scott

Reckoning – Friday Fictioneers

Well, it’s time for Friday Fictioneers hosted by our fine Rochelle.  This week’s prompt is provided by Roger Bultot.  Here’s my take:

Reckoning – by Scott L Vannatter

Jason looked at the morning, picturesque landscape.  The area was lit up by the almost-darkness.  He viewed the distant mountains; the sun beginning to rise behind their majestic peaks.  He noticed, too, the slight movement at the very crests of the faraway beauties.

He began to chant, at first softly, building to a near-shout.  His hands raised, almost without his thought, pointing to a spot midway between the clouds and the peaks.  With a tremendous roar, lightening loosed from his fingertips and lit up the faraway range.

“That should get their attention,” he thought while his army gathered behind him.

 

Word count: 100   Namaste,  Scott

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

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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

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