Blowout – Friday Fictioneers

June 6, 2014freyathewriter 29 Comments

Here is my latest entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

– Blowout –

You’ll damage your eyesight, watching TV in the dark.

That’s what Mum used to say. She would turn the living room light on and destroy my fantasy hideaway.

Mum’s gone now, they all are. I am forced to make a choice. Should I use what little power I have managed to conserve on light, or on connecting with the outside world?

Candles it is.

I shiver, pulling my blanket close, cold fingers rasping against the harsh fibres. The gales are nearing hurricane force again tonight, the wind turbines have been shut down for weeks.

So much for a cozy hideaway.

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Deep – Friday Fictioneers

May 22, 2014freyathewriter 48 Comments

Here is my latest entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

Copyright – Erin Leary

– Deep –

“Does that look alright? Is it realistic?”

I stare at Alex, astonished at his artwork. “Ermm, yes, I guess so.”

“Yes, but I don’t know if the mist looks OK, or not. Would it really roll in like that, up top? We’re nowhere near a river, or a valley, or…”

“Alex, mate! The important thing is that we have a view, something natural to stick on the walls – something instead of, well, metal.”

We both turn to look at the metal walls, behind which lie tons of rocks and earth hemming us in on all sides. Above ground, the air is poison. We’ll be OK down here – unless we go insane first.

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Eyes Right – Friday Fictioneers

May 16, 2014May 16, 2014freyathewriter 28 Comments

Here is my latest entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

I walk across London Bridge to work each morning, and some days, the bridge and all beyond is shrouded in fog or mist. It has crossed my mind that we are so trusting, to expect that the bridge, and everything on the other side, is indeed, still there….

Copyright – Sandra Crook

– Eyes Right –

They follow one another like lambs.

Fog. It had descended in the night hours when Death beckons. I had been awake in my glass-encased penthouse, Scotch swirling in lead crystal. It had struck me as vaguely curious, but then I turned my back, returned to my dealings, turned on by money.

There were no footsteps on London Bridge – which my subconscious expected. I returned to the window. The fog rose. London Bridge was gone, and all that remained of those sheep was their detritus bobbing on the Thames below.

It pays to have your wits about you in the City.

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Click on the blue froggy below to read others’ offerings!