NIGHT BUS - a 100 word mystery


Since Dave vanished weeks ago George was the only one left and he’d already been beaten up twice – sleeping alone was dangerous.

It was past midnight when a bus stopped and a voice called, “Free ride, mate?” Light obscured its destination but George didn’t hesitate. As he stepped aboard, the door shut so fast he lost his belongings, but then Dave emerged from the glistening mists that filled the interior and handed him a bottle. “Wondered if you’d be next.”
George drank deep, tasting strange flavours. “Have you been here all this time?”
“All what time?”
George stared. Too late - the bus was moving.

Thanks to Rochelle at https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for the photo prompt. The picture was taken by Shaktiki Sharma and I'm not sure what it is, but the configuration of lights made me think of a double decker bus! 
This is the worst time of year for rough sleepers - far too cold and too many drunken revellers - so perhaps one cannot blame Gerorge and Dave for taking a leap into the unknown. 



I wasn't totally satisfied with my first response to this week's Friday Fictioneers' photo prompt, so here's another story. Do feel free to scroll down and read the other two stories I've posted this week.


Sally’s feet ached. Christmas Eve had been a long, hard slog.
Lorry drivers had merely grabbed a burger without leaving a tip, every family had brought over-excited, noisy children, and someone had thrown up in the toilets.
The moment the last customer left, Sally grabbed the keys to lock up – with luck she’d be home before midnight – but just then a couple stumbled out of the darkness.
“Don’t lock us out,” the man pleaded, “My wife’s in labour,” and as Sally held the door open for them, one brilliant star came to rest in the night sky over the diner.




I still believed in Santa until he took off his red outfit that time and hurt me – my own Pa – but this year I couldn’t face Christmas again so I packed my bag and quit
I almost didn’t get into Brad’s truck when I saw his Santa hat, but I was more afraid of Pa catching me, so I chanced it.
Then Brad stopped at this diner and bought me dinner and I thought, Here it comes – payment time, but he just showed me photos and talked about what he’d bought for his kids.
Not all Santas are monsters after all.
Finding a Christmas story to fit the photo prompt wasn't easy this year, but I've managed it. Also if you scroll down you will find a slightly longer Christmas story I wrote at the weekend. 
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/, from whence you can follow the link to read how other writers interpreted Roger Bultot's photograph.
Please leave comments on my stories before you go, and I wish you all a very Happy Christmas, and Happy Holidays to those of different faiths or none.




“What’s up, babe? Your latte’s getting cold.”
“I’ve gone off coffee, Joe – get me an orange juice instead.”
Joe returned from the counter wearing a worried frown, “You’ve been moody all week and now you’ve gone off coffee – are you breaking up with me?”
Mary couldn’t meet his soft brown eyes. “You might want to dump me when I tell you – I’m having a baby.”
“I’m going to be a dad? That’s brilliant!”
“It’s not yours.” The words dropped like a stone between them and Joe leapt up so violently that other customers stared. “Whose is it then? I thought you loved me.”
Mary shrugged helplessly. “I do love you, Joe, but I didn’t have a choice.”
“You mean someone forced you? I’ll bloody kill him!”
“It wasn’t like that. This angel turned up and told me God’s been watching me and decided I’m the right one to have His baby. The angel said this baby will save the world one day.”
“And you expect me to believe that?” Joe’s voice dripped scorn.
Mary shrank back in her seat, her hands protecting her belly, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself, but it’s the truth. I’m dreading telling Mum and Dad.”
Joe sat down slowly and wiped her tears with his calloused carpenter’s thumbs, “I can’t deny it’s a bit of a shock, Mary,” he said gently, “But I love you and we’ll work it out.” He grinned suddenly. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

Written for no particular reason other than the need to do so! Leave a comment if you'd like to, and I wish you a very Happy Christmas. Thank you for staying with me and reading my blog through the year. Lizy.


MRS JENKINS' REFUSAL - a 100 word seasonal story


“Mrs Jenkins refuses to go to bed!”
The Care Home manager soothed Hyacinth. “I should have told you – she always sits up on Christmas Eve.”
Alone at last, Edna sank into cherished memories of a youth spent roaming the moors, doing her best to fulfil her father’s predictions of a ruined reputation.
Gnarled fingers twisted her wedding band. She’d had to settle down eventually, but she’d always yearned for her lost freedom.

A sound alerted her. He had come every Christmas without fail for sixty years – her gypsy lover with his string of horses.
This time she would leave with him.
Thanks to Rochelle for the atmospheric photograph and for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  from whence you can follow the link to read how other authors interpreted the photo prompt.


RESERVOIR - a 100 word story


The city sprawl was visible from space, its airport runway a strip of light that silhouetted each plane’s takeoff and landing. The pilot of the largest craft didn’t join the circling queue, but waited confidently behind his radar shield.

Only when the city slept did he descend and slide stealthily beneath the surface of the reservoir, where their carefully-constructed outer shell blended seamlessly with the drowned landscape of abandoned farms and fields. 
Birds by day, bats by night, they explored, listened and observed.

They were in no hurry – there were several years to go before the invasion.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ and to Lucy Fridkin for the photograph which prompted my story. You can read other interpretations by following the link from Rochelle's blog.