Blood in the Depths

evil mermaids

From the 2011 film “Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides”

In later years, it was largely believed that Fair Isle, a tiny spit of an island between Sumburgh Head and Mainland, Shetland, which would eventually be claimed by Scotland, was originally settled by Bronze Age traders.

The real story was first withheld and then lost to history. Truth be told, Nordic raiders used Fair Isle as a hiding place for their plunder. By the ninth century, the Isle would become a legitimate Norse settlement, but hundreds of years earlier, it was the site of treasure, home of marauders, and a monument to a fearsome curse.

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Matzah Pizza and an Island of Peace

pizza

© Dale Rogerson

Esther had some cheese and matzah pizza and another sip of wine. Fortunately the owner of “Stanley’s Pizza” knew how to accommodate her needs during the Passover season.

At work, time was very fluid, which was why she appreciated the dependable rhythms of a Jewish life. Looking at her watch on the counter, she chuckled. She could only wear it off-duty.

Being a Cross-Time Detective was draining. Thank Hashem she’d captured the dimensional jumper before he could illegally copy the plans for, what..oh, “velcro” and bring them back to our reality.

Now she could enjoy her pizza and peace.

Written for the Friday Fictioneers photo challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The idea is to use the photo above to write a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. Mine is exactly 100 words.

Since this is the week of Unleavened Bread, and since my wife is visiting our daughter in California and I’ve got the place more or less to myself, I thought I’d write this small bit of “Jewish themed” science fiction. Besides, the pizza really does look like it’s made of matzah.

To read other stories based on the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.

Doing What’s Necessary

yosemite

© Maria @ Doodles and Scribbles

Yosemite National Park has gone downhill since I was a kid. We used to come here every Spring and Fall for the bicycle rallies. Some entered the races, but a lot of us just liked to ride around the main road inside the park.

Now look at it. Bastards have carved their initials into everything, and the park has been so defunded, that no one’s here to stop them.

Why doesn’t this country take care of its resources anymore? It’s all about building safe zones for people’s feelings, restricting free speech, and generally stroking the fragile egos of children who have no idea they have the strength to suffer someone else’s opinion and live.

It’s up to me and my generation to make it right, to show the kids coming up that they can be strong, too. The enemy isn’t someone else’s opinion, it’s seeing where there are real problems and having the courage to solve them.

I’m going into that water to get rid of the graffiti. Who’s going to come with me?

I wrote this in response to the FFfAW Challenge-Week of April 11, 2017 hosted by Priceless Joy. The idea is to write a piece of flash fiction between 100 and 175 words with the ideal being about 150. Mine comes in at 174.

I realize some of what I’ve written may be controversial. Many students on today’s university campus feel that free speech is hate speech unless it conforms specifically to their required norms. In my opinion, it’s not so much about safe places and the perception of microaggressions, but taking a look at real, tangible problems, and then diving in to help fix them.

In the late 1970s, every Spring and Fall, Yosemite hosted bicycle festivals and races. My friends and I would drive up from the Bay Area and participate. It was great fun, and a chance to visit one of the most beautiful nature areas in the world.

We really need to keep our priorities straight. No matter what your politics or social imperatives, we all have to share the same world, so we might as well all work together to protect it. We can come out of our shells long enough to do that, can’t we?

To read more stories based on this prompt, go to InLinkz.com

Strange Sight Expanded

strange eyes

Found at freestockphotos.name

Ronald Connor sat on the sandy shore and stared up at the cliff where it all began. It would be the last thing he’d ever see. His peripheral vision was closing in on him. He could see the trees, the buildings, the tower, all through a continually narrowing tunnel.

“I wish I could have seen your face one more time.” He deliberately left her, Shannon, his fiancée, left everyone else who loved him, because his going blind wasn’t something he wanted to share. He didn’t want their pity, their concern, their last second attempts at trying to cure him, or even to understand exactly what was happening to him.

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The Curse of Slappy

slappy

The character “Slappy” from the Goosebumps books | found at Amazon.com

The Fifteenth Story in the Adventures of the Ambrosial Dragon: A Children’s Fantasy Series

It was a Friday and Landon was happy that the school week was over. He went into his bedroom to get rid of his backpack and saw something strange.

All of the living stuffed animals were at the foot of the bed looking suspiciously at an object resting on Landon’s pillows.

“Is that new thing your’s, Landon,” asked Baby?

“No. I mean, I’ve never seen it before.”

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The Experiment

shadow

© Jellico’s Stationhouse

“Johnson, apply more power. I think an image is forming in the Temporalscope.”

“I see it too, Reynolds. Applying power.” Henry Johnson slowly pushed the lever up a bit more. Screaming transformers almost deafened them.

“There it is. It’s just a shadow. but…”

“You’re right, Reynolds. It’s a picture from another time.”

“Counters are settling in, Johnson…twelve years into the future.”

The video projection destabilized before Emmett Reynolds recognized the man about to mount the 1907 RaCycle Pace Maker was his currently ten-year-old son, He almost had proof that little Charles would survive his severe case of diphtheria.

I wrote this in response to the Friday Fictioneers Photo Writing Challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The idea is to use the photo above as a prompt to write a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. Mine came in at 97. It was an excuse to indulge myself in another time travel, or rather, time imaging story with a hopefully unpredictable twist.

To read more stories based on the photo, go to InLinkz.com.

What I Feel When I Hold You

“No! No! No! No! They can’t be dead. They can’t be.”

The hospital. My son and daughter-in-law are in ICU. The car wreck. They survived, but my grandchildren…eight year old Patrick, 2 year old Sarah…they’re dead. They’re dead.

I’ve been a failure all my life. I’ve been a failure as a husband, a father, a provider. I’ve tried to live a normal life, to keep my family safe, to keep anyone from finding out about me. But that was a mistake.

I had the power to save their lives and I let that bitch tell me I wasn’t worthy of using it.

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For the Love of Cynthia

viking

© A Mixed Bag

The fake Viking boat was the only unusual thing about the park. It overlooked Suisun Bay to the north and bordered the Point Edith Wildlife Area. Cynthia always felt safe in the reserve, which is why she told Richard to meet her here each morning after it was over.

Early on a Monday morning, the park was deserted, though there was plenty of evidence that hundreds of children played here the day before.

Cynthia always loved children, but they were never able to have any together. Small wonder given her unique nature. How would she ever carry a pregnancy to full term?

The full moon was just about to set so she’d be coming soon. In his left hand, he had the rucksack with her clothes in it.

The wolf appeared out of the bushes to his left. Even knowing who and what she was, Richard still felt afraid.

Moonset. She collapsed on the grass and started writhing, her shape twisting, fur vanishing. In moments, she was his beautiful wife again.

He ran over to her now shivering form. “It’s okay, darling. It’s over. I’ll take care of you.”

Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction – April 9th 2017 hosted by Al Forbes. The idea is to use the photo prompt above to write a piece of flash fiction no more than 200 words long. Mine came in at 189.

I’ve written werewolf stories before such as The Wolf’s Mate and Violation, so this is merely a continuation of that theme, though with different characters.

To read other stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

The Fairies Pond

fairies pond

© Google Maps

On most days of the year, The Fairies Pond was just a pond. It’s an isolated body of water in western Oregon with only one trail in. A serene place certainly, but not always worth the eight hour hike to get there.

But on one day of the year, what’s called “The Fairies Day,” it’s either a place to adore or fear. Those purest of heart, those who knew which day it was, came to witness the blessed event. The impure hearts who happened to be present suffered the horrible wrath.

This day was the anniversary of when the fairies created all green and living things. On that day, the pure hearts were blessed for loving the living. The impure, who hated life, were summarily damned.

Cathleen brought Charleston to the pond to hope miracles would soften his heart. Instead, he came to his doom. Was this too her blessing?

The photo prompt for this week at What Pegman Saw offered four possible images and I chose the one above. The challenge is to take an image and write a piece of flash fiction no more than 150 words long. Mine is exactly 150 words.

For more stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

Time’s Window Expanded

whale

© Alamy

Physicist and Mission Specialist Jamie Benjamin and her team of three arrived at the orbiting Mars Base Camp exhausted after their nearly two-hundred day trip from Earth to the red planet. But they were astronauts and had to fulfill their grand legacy of being stoic pioneers. Jamie could almost feel Neil Armstrong looking over her shoulder as she stepped through the airlock and boarded the station.

“Welcome to Base Camp, Dr. Benjamin.” Commander Donald Sharp, in operational command of Base Camp and coordinator of Mars Manned Missions smiled and extended his hand.

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