Tag Archives: short stories

Philandering 101…

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“Always check into a hotel with a light fitting strong enough to swing off. Ensure that the windows are sufficiently thin that, in the unlikely event of running at full sprint from an angry husband, you can penetrate said pane whilst remaining conscious. Never higher than the first floor, and always with bushes below to deaden the fall where your car keys await wrapped in a towel to protect your modesty as you make good your escape.”

“And presumably: Not being tricked into meeting the aforementioned husband in a secluded setting would be near the top of the list?”

 

100 Words

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Nemesis Convention…

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‘Last year’s Nemesis Convention was held in a heavily fortified hollowed out volcano!’

Des Troyer slammed the door on his cape and cursed.

‘Times are tough my friend,’ Kat Tastrophy replied menacingly.

‘It looked way nicer on the invitation.’

‘Well, that’s what happens when you miss your sales targets three quarters in a row. Successfully dissolve a few more superheroes in acid and we’ll see about holding the next meeting in space.’

‘Oh no, look, Booby-Trap’s car’s parked out front!’

‘That’ll be where the front door went.’

‘God I hate that infernal temptress, always out-blackmailing me…And I never know where to look!’

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Ostrification…

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Back when the world was young a selfish seed was sown. It plunged its roots deep, taking in more nutrients than it should and depriving the flora amongst which it flourished, till finally, tall and proud, it experienced a new sensation – thirst.

For generations to come, children played under its pale branches, never stopping to wonder why it was the only tree to stand petrified in a sea of green.

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

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Pope invents game: Rock, Papal, Scissors (#Six Word Stories)

VATICAN-POPE-MASS-CANDLEMAS

2. Michael Bay’s coffin transforms into Decepticon

3. British queue achieves polite repressed sentience

4. T-Rex forms prehistoric band “Marc Bolan”

5. Dalek confirmed as worst callcentre accent

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7. Bono finds what he’s looking for

8. Territorial Army refuse to share barracks

9. First rule of acronym club: N.T.Z.A.R.G

10. Cannibal takes wife’s hand in marriage

 

Previous six-word stories…

Six Word Stories

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Filters…

sarahs-spider-web-potter

What little effort it would take to snip the silk strings and banish you from my home – a fleeting act of domesticity.

But what if I leave you be? Let the web reach out and encroach, let the dust reclaim…

Let the phone ring to silence…

…the friends fall away…

…the Career careen off the rails into sidings.

Liquidate and eek out – conventions unbinding.

Unkempt, bedraggled, utterly free.

Not dementia or defeat.

Something other.

Something…

The moment passes

A duster makes light work of a spider’s domain.

A fever dream is, once again, held at bay…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers 

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Insect Overlords…

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George emerged from his cell with a skip in his step.

‘Proboscis Saturday!’

All the S’s.

Sssssssss.

So much better than ‘Compound Eye Wednesday‘ – No alliteration there.

Sure, he’d have to listen to Gary banging on about how he used to be a hedge-fund manager, but the work was easy and he could let his mind wander, such as it was.

The apocalypse had been a positive boon to the intellectually challenged – an affirming experience – the great leveller.

And as for those with a proclivity for submissive activities…well!

George scrubbed away with a big fat smile on his silly ole face.

Gary mumbled something impenetrable about investing in derivatives…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers 

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Donde es Wally?

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Down broken back-roads and over hostile territory the journalist journeyed, till finally he arrived at a one-horse town and a nameless bar. There he encountered a sunken-eyed, bearded vagabond.

‘I knew someone would find me eventually,’ the vagabond growled.

‘I’ve come a long way to hear your story.’

‘Mine is a tale of hardship and woe. Have you any idea what it’s like to endure the indignity of being constantly pointed out in a crowd, no anonymity, the butt of every joke and sarcastic aside – forcing you at last into exile?’

‘Why didn’t you just take off the stripy top and stop wearing that bobble hat?’

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Filed under Flash fiction