ROBINSON II - flash fiction

ROBINSON II

Ethan’s voice dripped scorn. “That’s not proper treasure!”

“Is too!” exclaimed Henry, “Tell him, Grandad.”

Albert lifted down the box. “These are souvenirs of my shipwreck. Sixty years ago I washed up half-drowned on an island, and I’d have died of cold but for that Zippo. Kindling and driftwood like this made a fire, then I searched the beach.” He touched the coins reverently. “There’s one of these for each body I buried.” After a moment his back straightened. “But I also found a fishing net, so I survived.”

“What’s that bird for?”

“To remind me never again to eat a seagull.”

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Thanks to Rochelle at https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for posting Claire Fuller's photo as a prompt for this week's Friday Fictioneers. To read other takes on the prompt, follow the links on her blog. After commenting on mine, of course, and please feel free to scroll back to read my earlier stories.

MOONSHINE - a 100 word story

THIS WEEK'S 100 WORD STORY came to me while I was shopping, so I wrote it sitting in my car in the car park, which is very appropriate under the circumstances.
TO MY SURPRISE when I got home and typed it up, it came to exactly 100 words, so I decided to post the first draft - un-edited. 
Thanks to Rochelle for the photo prompt on her blog;  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
You can read other writers' stories by following the blue frog trail on her blog.

MOONSHINE

It started as a joke.

Frank, Hank and Billy-Joe were sprawled on the veranda of their mouldy cabin in the woods drinking moonshine.

    “This stuff tastes like horse-piss,” Frank said and Hank said, “More like jet-fuel,” and Billy-Joe said, “Reckon it’d make even our old bangers fly.”

     Frank ‘borrowed’ the company’s muck-shifter that weekend and built a ramp out in the desert, while Hank tinkered with engines and Billy-Joe spread the word and took bets.

     The entire town turned out to watch as the cars sped up the ramp and flew, all too briefly, before nose-diving into the unforgiving sand.

A-Z - DESERT & DANCING

D - I am blogging every day this month for the A-Z Challenge. Today's letter is D for DESERT and for DANCING - - -

But first here is my 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers prompted by this photograph on Rochelle's blog - follow the link on my blog list. I have used the letter D as often as I can!

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DUST

 Dust and destruction rained down on the street as Delilah’s father demolished the fire-escape. When she put his supper on the table he sneered, “That’ll stop you sneaking out at night, girl,” before shovelling food past his rotten teeth.

Delilah choked on bile and hatred. It was his sneaking into her room at night that had to stop. Her fist tightened on a knife, but she didn’t want to spend the dregs of her youth in jail.

When he went out, locking the door behind him, she phoned Darren. “Put a mattress in the pickup tonight – I’m going to jump.”

                                       .................................................................................

DESERT Much of the south of Tenerife, where I live, is DESERT - this patch of land is between the airport and the sea.

The expanse of empty land makes our little car look very lonely

Even Tigger wouldn't eat the Barbed Wire plant

There is very little rainfall, even in winter, so cacti proliferate

and on my terrace the plants that flourish best are succulents.

And another D = DANCING
Many groups of native Canarians keep alive the traditional country dances. Once a month a group with its band and singers dances through the streets of our nearest small town and ends with a wonderful display on the Rambla accompanied by traditional instruments and songs.

As long as the children continue to learn the songs and dances the tradition will continue - and I have seen toddlers in infant schools performing the simpler routines.

If you've got this far down, please leave a comment and thanks for reading.