#FridayFictioneers – Trick or Treat

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

It was a glorious night.  Timmy had more candy than he could eat in weeks and he didn’t have to go all over the neighborhood to get it.  The little kiddies did that.  He had just had to wait.

More were on the way.  He heard them coming.  Wiping chocolate on his pants, he readied for his next take, but there were too many of them.

This isn’t the plan he thought as they stuffed him in the cage and took their candy back.  “I’ll get you next year,” he screamed as they laughed and ran away into the night.

WC:  100

Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Trick or Treat”

Warriors – Episode 2

Warriors – Episode 1

The road back to the farm lay between the wide, lazy Grey River on their left and forest thick with undergrowth on their right. The sun peaked above the tips of the mountains in the distance, throwing long shadows over the sloppy road. The day had been warm, but the sun had done little to dry the road from the previous night’s storm. Fallon picked his way between puddles, keeping his feet as dry as possible.

Thoughts of his talk with the shopkeep played in Fallon’s mind. Seen some unsavory types on the road, he had said. He quickened his pace, wishing he had brought their farm horse instead of letting it rest from the plowing the previous day.

Raelle reached over her Pop Pop’s shoulder to rub a hand over the smooth surface that made what she now knew was a shield and grasped the middle point of the W. It felt right in her hand, though she could not fathom why.

A branch snapped in the dark of the forest. Fallon cast his eyes about, searching the shadows, seeing nothing beyond the edges of the road. Curse me for a fool, he thought.

It had been stupid to waste the light haggling over the price of a shield he would never need. He should have bought the hoe, he thought as the conversation came back to him again. Even if all you have is a stick, the conversation had gone. Had he bought the hoe, he would have a stick and then some. He scanned the roadside for something he could use for defense.

“Help me look for a nice walking stick,” he told Raelle, mustering more calm than he felt into his voice as he lowered her to the ground. “We’ve a ways to go yet.”

A deer burst from the forest a moment later. “Only a deer,” Fallon muttered in relief as Raelle held up a sturdy length of oak branch that seemed to have come down in the last storm. “Oh that will do nicely.” He took the branch and began stripping away the leaves and smaller branches that spread out from it.

Fallon hefted the stick, feeling the balance. “Not bad,” he said. If nothing else, he would have a spare hoe handle he thought as he lifted Raelle back onto his hip.

Her breath caught, and Fallon followed her gaze to where three men made their way out of the underbrush and into the road. They carried strung bows, and bright white fletchings were visible poking over the men’s shoulders, an easy hand reach from the quivers that hung across their backs.

“Run into the forest and make your way back to town,” Fallon told his daughter setting her feet back on the road. “Be swift and do not look back. I will find you.”

“Pop Pop?”

Fallon heard a thousand questions in the simple words. “No time. You run when I run,” and whispered “go” as he began to run.

He ran, thinking back on long ago training, realizing too late that he had left the stick behind, and was on the men, tackling one and raining blows down on him before they splattered in the mud. Fallon scanned the confused men, saw them recovering from where they had scattered and kicked out at them as they neared. Fallon’s heart sank as he saw Raelle frozen in terror, standing in the middle of the road. “Go!” he yelled into the night.

One of the men, running hard tackled Fallon from atop the other man, landing them in a splash of muddy water as the third added his weight to him, pinning him to the muddy road. Fallon’s breath left him in a gush and he struggled to get it back as he waited for the blows to come.

“Stop it, stop it!” Raelle screamed as she ran to her Pop Pop.

Fallon tried to move but couldn’t. The weight of two men on him was too much. He had failed Raelle. He groaned beneath the men and searched for a way of escape.

“Fallon?” the man who lay across him asked. When Fallon did not answer, he continued. “Fallon, we mean you no harm. It’s Jarrel, Bones, and Telle.”

Fallon let his body go limp in relief as he heard the stick crack across the man’s back.

“Aye!” he screamed as the stick cracked again. The men scrambled away from where Fallon lay.

Raelle stood with the stick at the ready, protecting her Pop Pop.

***

Telle took the worst of it. Jarrel and Bones took whacks with the stick from Raelle, but aside from a bit a swelling, they would be fine.

Fallon apologized for attacking the men and informed them of the path the deer they had been stalking had taken, though none of them looked in the mood to continue the chase.

Almost home Raelle looked up at her Pop Pop in the light of the big bright moon. “What if they had been bad men Pop Pop?”

“If so, then you run. You hear me? Don’t you ever do that again.”

Raelle did not answer, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.


This is the second installment of a serial. Every week, another portion will be posted with a target word count between 500 and 1,000.

If you missed Episode 1, you can check it out here!

I hope you enjoyed this portion of our story!  I look forward to seeing you as we continue the journey.

#FridayFictioneers – Some Gave All

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

It stood alone in the plaza, just outside the theater, across the street from the Cold Stone in plain view.

Many walk by turning their heads in shame, some do worse.  They don’t even know why it is there, and wouldn’t know why if they did, they never even glimpse it.

History has faded, and so when we tell them the sacrifice it represents, they are horrified.  When we say that they were the lucky ones, they scoff.

“How is it lucky to lose a limb,” they say.

And so we explain how “All Gave Some, but Some Gave All.”

WC:  100

Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Some Gave All”

Warriors – Episode 1

This is the first part of a series

It was the oddest thing Raelle had seen in her young life. Their was a magnetism to it, pulling her close. She ran a small hand over the flawless surface of the shield, not knowing what it was, and felt perfection beneath the layers of dust that covered it.

It was taller than her, the top forming a sweeping W, the middle point large and round, contrasting the two on either side which formed sharp points.

“Look at this Pop Pop, look over here,” she exclaimed waving.

Raelle was tall for her age. At five years old, she was slender as a reed with a narrow face framed with long blonde locks that tumbled past her shoulders.

She had never seen anything like it. The people of River’s Edge were farmer’s. They defended their lands and flocks with pitchforks, and hoes, not shields, spears, or swords. Some of the older boys knew what these things were and had perhaps even seen drawings in the few books of the village, but few if any had ever laid eyes on the real things. Continue reading “Warriors – Episode 1”

#FridayFictioneers – And The Music Played On

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Cliff perched atop a stool in his private studio, strumming chords on a sleek six string.

He fancied himself a musician, but the truth of the matter was that he just didn’t have “it.”  What he did have was money enough to buy all the “stuff” of a musician, but money could not purchase what was most important.

That didn’t stop him.  Every night he ran clumsy fingers over strings that seemed to fight him, singing, trying to train his toneless voice.

Drowning his nightly frustrations with alcohol, he looked for hope and good music to come with the rising sun.

WC:  100


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#FridayFictioneers – The Getaway

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Brick exploded into chip and dust that turned the water beneath a rusty red.

Jim swore as the bullets whizzed past and slammed the throttle down.  Water shot from the motor, and the small boat jumped forward.

More brick exploded to is left as he whipped right around the corner, head low for cover and speed.  Peering over the bow, he saw the way blocked.  Two large boats filled the narrow canal from red brick wall to red brick wall, save for a small gap at the center.

Jim gritted his teeth and aimed for the gap.

WC:  97


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#FridayFictioneers – Best Trip Ever

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Claude almost spat coffee, pulled socked feet from the RV counter-top, and sat bolt upright.  “Mabe, come look.”

Mabel pulled a pillow over her head.  “Sleeping,” she mumbled.

“Oh, you can sleep anytime.”

“Exactly.  Anytime is now.”

“You’re going to miss it.”

“Ugh.  Whaaaat?”  Mabel swung her legs to the floor and started for the kitchen.

“Careful.  Not so fast, you’ll scare it away.”

She stared daggers back.  “What is it?”

“Check out that cool bird.  It’s so close.  Isn’t this the best trip ever?”

“I see it.  It is.  I’m going to sleep.”

“Waste of a morning,” Claude grumbled.

WC:  100


Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Best Trip Ever”