#FridayFictioneers – Squatching

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Brittle brown winter grass crunched beneath the Captain’s booted feet as he stepped from the cruiser and cast a skeptical eye over the scene.

“Sir,” a young man called from down the incline .

The captain cut in. “Why detective, am I in the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s Sarah. She’s gone.”

“Oh come on. She does this sort of thing.”

“Not like this.  She would never leave her camera,” he replied exasperated. “And besides that, the photos.”

“Photos?” the captain questioned. “Was she Squatching again?”

The detective slowly shook his head.  “Yeah, and she may have had some luck this time.”

WC:  100


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#FridayFictioneers – Web of Lies

PHOTO PROMPT © Victor and Sarah Potter

“What a nice web you have,” the fly said to the spider.

“Well thank you,” replied spider, innocently. “Won’t you come over and rest a bit.”

The fly thought a bit.  The web was nice, gleaming in the light, and her wings were getting tired.  Though her mother had warned her against spiders, this one seemed so nice.

“I don’t know,” she said.  “I should be flying on home.”

“But it’s such a long flight.  A rest would do you good, besides I could use the company.  It gets so lonely up here.  Please.”

“Okay, but I can’t stay long.”

WC:  100

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Creative Beings – Part 3

Koth stood stiff backed just out of the shade of the command pavilion, performing the most important task there was on a battlefield.  The duty of protecting those who controlled the battle strategy was his.  But he was distracted.  His dark eyes scanned the battlefield that stretched to the horizon before him.  It had been three weeks since he had fought a worthy opponent, that fool smiling hulk, and the fact that it had gone unfinished chewed at his soul.

He scanned the field, hoping to see him again.  He did not.

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Creative Beings – Part 2

Ral kept his face-plate up, allowing the cool breeze to pull the sweat from his too young face.  His enemies must have thought him mad.  Perhaps they were right.

Ribs crunched beneath breastplate, screams of the dying echoed across the field filling Ral’s ears with sweet music.  Music that he made, with the help of the other soldiers of course, but they were secondary.  He was the artist, the choreographer that put it all together and made art.

A maniacal grin split Ral’s face as he pulled his shield back from the destroyed foe, only to sweep at the man with his longsword, taking the stunned, stumbling, faceless man just beneath the helm.

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#WeekendCoffeeShare – A Good Week

cappuccino on tableIf we were having coffee, I’d say that it’s late and that I probably shouldn’t be drinking this as I raise cup to lip and take yet another sip.  You would know that this is not the first time that I’ve indulged at too late an hour though, and tell me that I’ll be fine.  And you’re probably right about that, by the way.

So, might I get you a cup of something?  Coffee, tea, water, or juice?  You may as well indulge with me, and follow me down the path of poor nighttime beverage decisions.  Don’t worry, I’ll lead the way.

2017 is absolutely flying by.  Weeks seem like days, days like minutes, and so on, and so on.  I can say though, that the past week was a fairly good one as I did some of the things that I’ve been missing out on lately.  Those things included writing a bit, strumming the ole guitar, running, and bike riding.

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Troubles in Pleasantville

Tess pulled her hair up, exposing the solar system adorning her neck.  It was her favorite tattoo and fitting for her as it reflected the origin of her hippy parent’s given name, Planetes.  The greek for planets, meaning wanderer.  The word had described her parents perfectly.  She wasn’t so sure that it fit her.

A mix of dirt and small gravel rock crunched a rhythm  beneath her feet as she ran down the two lane road and past a newly sprouted corn field, before turning down a dusty dirt path strewn with brown pine needles.  A mile in, she found her stride and her breathing matched up as she watched the evening sun sink into the forest before her.  Not everything in Pleasantville was perfect, but this was.  This was her sanctuary.  The peace of an evening trail run.  Now she wondered if that had changed.  Had she lost that peace?

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