Tag Archives: friday fictioneers

Bad Art

ted's bad art

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

“This is just like before. Look at the image and tell me what you see.”

Ron sat across the table from Dr. Anita Smythe in the mint-green examination room, his blue eyes staring at the photo.

“Bad art.”

“Does it evoke any particular thoughts or emotions?” she asked.

“Only that I’m getting tired of this charade.”

“Ron, it’s not a…”

He slammed his fists on the table and she jumped at the sound.

The door burst open and two armed guards ran in.

“It’s okay,” said Smythe. “Reprogramming someone to be an assassin…”

“…is dangerous work,” Ron completed the sentence.

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Something Old, Something Stolen, and a Dead Cat

dales office

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Fifteen-year-old Daphne plopped herself down on the chair next to the table.

“This is stupid.” She blew a random cluster of hair out of her eyes. “We’re looking for an old book, not old junk. What is this crud?”

The backpack at her feet stirred and Skinner’s head lolled awkwardly to the side. “That ancient tech would be an adding machine and a typewriter.”

“How would a sorcerer’s familiar know that?”

“The spirit trapped in this dead cat knows a lot,” Skinner croaked.

“My great-grandma better have that stolen spellbook or we’ll never get you out of that murdered kitty.”

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Geoffrey’s Secret

david's train

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

The female attendant politely asked to verify Geoffrey’s identification. Something was wrong.

Of course, something was wrong. He was traveling under false documents on the Beijing to Xi’an bullet train at 350 kph. If he was discovered, there would be no jumping off like in some fanciful old spy movie.

His synthetic biology let him pass most scanners, though a detailed exam would reveal his true nature and the nuclear device. His detonation would kill 10 million and be blamed on the isolationists. However, his true objective was to eliminate their AI industry. No one must compete with his masters.

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All the World’s a Game and All the Lords and Captives Merely Players

cribbage

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

“Shall we play a game?” Her jailer placed the elements of Charlotte on the table between him and Ciara with notable mistakes. Ciara recognized what Isom had taken from her brother’s style but only a barbarian would have so clumsily arranged the dice on the left of the cards and the board.

“You bested my brother one game out of thousands and now you would play with me, Lord Governor?” It was difficult for her to keep disdain from her voice.

“One game between us, Princess. You win and your brother goes free. You lose, and I execute you both.”

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And the Sea Shall Claim Her Dead

roger-bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“We came to take nuclear torpedoes from an old submarine, not hunt for ghosts.” Simon, in the pilot’s seat of the deep-sea submersible, sounded almost panicked rather than his usual assured self.

“I can’t help that,” yelled Cora at the hydrophones. The banging I hear from the inside of that sub is an SOS. Someone’s still alive in there.”

“That’s bloody impossible,” snarled Vic. He was working the manipulators trying to free the first torpedo. “We’re 10,000 feet deep and that sub sank 60 years ago.”

“Tell that to them,” Cora shrieked. Then the sea’s dead came for the pirates.

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I Don’t Know Art, But I Know What I Like

box of rocks

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“What do you think, Dad?” Liz proudly showed off her university senior art project resting in a dorm courtyard.

“I’m not sure what to think,” Mike said. “What is it?”

“It’s symbolic of the constraints placed on reality and the illusion that if we were released from our cage, that we would be anything more than inert material.”

“Seems a little dark, Liz,” said Mike scratching his chin.

“We live in a dark world, Dad.”

“But why so grim? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“Dad, you grew up in a world of hope. That world is gone.”

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The Girl in the Macramé Bikini

macrame

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

“This will be fun, Grandpa,” said his youngest granddaughter. At fourteen, she was as full of silliness as when she was four.

“I’m seventy-one, not seventeen. What do I care for glow-in-the-dark strip and macramé parties?” the old man groused. “This is worse than Chuck E. Cheese.”

“Relax into it,” said his oldest grandson. “It won’t be so bad. Besides, the pizza here’s pretty good.”

“Well, maybe for a little bit,” Grandpa said.

“We have a surprise, Grandpa,” said one of the middle granddaughters.

Then they brought out the blond stripper in the glow-in-the-dark macramé.

“At my age?” he groaned.

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The Long Winter is Coming

volcano

PHOTO PROMPT © Ken Arnopole

“Daddy, do you think Mommy’s okay?”

My six-year-old daughter asked me the question I didn’t want to answer.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I said. We were watching the news on my phone. “Boise was outside the Yellowstone super volcano’s blast radius…”

“So, she’s alright?”

“Maybe. But the volcano will get everyone else.”

“What?”

“You know how the sky is always gray and we have to stay inside so we don’t breathe the ashes? That’s spreading around the world blocking the sun. Pretty soon, it’s going to be winter everywhere.

“Can we go home soon, Daddy? I’m don’t like Boston anymore.”

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Every 30th of May

brooklyn bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

She always manifested first for her life was the cause. Mist rose under the Brooklyn Bridge that May 30th as the twelve appeared. The people who were present either were unable to perceive them through a lack of faith or chose to ignore what they considered the impossible.

After all this time, those few who could see them but didn’t know what they were thought them to be performers in some macabre cosplay. When they tried to approach any of them, they wavered and vanished. The ghosts of the bridge’s tragic past were sentinels and did not speak cautionary tales.

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Time Lord Pranks

telephone box

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The Time Lord approached the disguised TARDIS from around the corner and stopped suddenly. He was accustomed to the inexplicable, but this sight rendered his mouth agape.

“I clearly recall you being in pristine condition when I left here to pursue that elusive rogue.”

He looked about, but a crimson telephone box containing multiple trays of flora punctuated by a pigeon cooing on the top layer hadn’t yet attracted attention. This was somewhat peculiar for London.

“Very well, then,” he said reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “One sonic screwdriver to the rescue. Then we’ll deal with this pesky Doctor.”

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