CHANGING ATTITUDES - a 100 word story

CHANGING ATTITUDES

 Last month I would have fought for that tree, tying myself to its trunk to defy the chainsaws, but that was before the disaster. Now I’ll fight for my share of the logs, for without fire how can I feed my child and keep the night terrors at bay?

We don’t know what happened – without media there is only rumour and fear. Already barter has replaced cash, every supermarket has been looted, food rots in powerless freezers, and farmers patrol their livestock and crops with shotguns.

I never imagined the time would come, but today I killed a chicken.
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If I manage to post this it will be a miracle! On Monday I had a message on my laptop that Adblock had crashed, taking with it Google Chrome, my browser of choice, and clicking on the 'balloon' as instructed did nothing to fix it. Firefox, my standby, has also crashed, and uninstalling Chrome then reinstalling it didn't work either. So here I am, struggling with Google Search - can't get a Toolbar, or a Bookmarks bar, and it's all guesswork to a technophobe, so bear with me!

SHRAPNEL - a hundred word story inspired by a photograph

SHRAPNEL

“Found some!” Arnold yelled.

The piece of shrapnel was still hot, as was the bombsite, but his gang had to be there first to retain their scavenging rights to the street. 

As they scoured the rubble for more, Hal asked, “Anything from your dad?”

Arnold shrugged. “He’s too busy killing Jerries.”

“My dad writes every week.”

“Your dad’s a softie.”

The token scuffle didn’t last long – Arnold’s heart wasn’t in it.

Mum shouldn’t have left that letter lying open, but when he heard her crying he read it. Now the words were burned into his brain.

‘Dereliction of Duty’.

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Thanks to Sandra Crook for her photo of a derelict building and a Smart car, but my mind sped off in a different direction. Visit https://rochellewisoff.com/ to read other interpretations of the Friday Fictioneers prompt.

HAMELIN - a story in one hundred words

HAMELIN

Clowns outside the school attracted every child to their offer of free rides at the fairground. In the scramble, only the fittest won a ticket, and Belinda had to stand and watch as her luckier classmates climbed aboard, the music blared and the ride started.

But something wasn’t right. The speed increased rapidly until the children’s faces blurred, the music became deafening, and when a flying shoe struck Belinda she backed away.

Then the noise reached a crescendo and the ride stopped abruptly – empty. Belinda, sobbing with fright, turned and fled as fast as her crutches could carry her.

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There is something about the frenetic noise of a fairground that could so easily escalate into nightmare, and this story is what J Hardy Carroll's photo brought to my mind. To read what it inspired other writers to write, go to  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and follow the Blue Frog links.

For those who don't know the story of The Pied Pper of Hamelin, there are accounts of the (allegedly) true story on Google. 

ps. If you haven't read my book A Volcanic Race yet, the link to Amazon is at the top of this page.

RICOCHET - a story in one hundred words

RICOCHET

“You couldn’t hit a barn door!”

“Could too! See that bucket? The Laceys are away for the weekend – they’ll never know.”

Billy shouldered his air-gun and fired, anticipating the clang of metal, but his aim was way off. Instead there was the sharp snap of glass followed by a series of pings and a squawk.

“Now you’ve done it!” cried Sam.

“The window’s only cracked,” Billy said, adding hopefully, “No harm done,” and they fled.

The Laceys returned to find all their designer lamps adorned with strange, unexplained holes, and their parrot lying in the bottom of its cage, dead.

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I can't explain why Victor and Sarah Potter's photograph made me think of a crime scene, but this story is the result of my weird imagination. Thanks to Rochelle at  https://rochellewisoff.com/  for hosting Friday Fictioneers. From her blog you can follow the link to read how other writers interpreted the prompt.

CONCEPTUAL ART - a story in one hundred words

CONCENPTUAL ART

Marcie wandered the exhibition, aware that her best frock was hopelessly unfashionable, but she didn’t care - when she cleared up afterwards she’d get the leftovers.

Meanwhile she eavesdropped as they told each other what it meant.

“Of course, it’s pollution – plastic resembling jellyfish and killing whales.”

“No, no – it represents the ephemeral nature of life.”

“I see a cloud of angels coming to gather souls.”

“How sweet! Isn’t she a darling?”

Suddenly Marcie could bear their braying voices no longer. “I’ve been sweeping round these bloody things for days – they just look like cotton reels and condoms to me.”

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Apologies to Roger Bultot, who took the photo and probably understood the exhibit, but once I'd seen cotton reels and condoms I couldn't write anything else. Thanks to Rochelle for posting the prompt on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/  from whence you can follow the link to read how other writers interpreted the picture.
I would like to wish everyone who visits my blog a very happy and prosperous 2018. My own New Year got off to a good start as I had a pleasant surprise today - I've sold ten copies of A Volcanic Race already this year! This is probably nothing special for a seasoned novelist, but for a debut author it is wonderful - my family bought their copies last year so this means that people I don't know are reading my work. Have you bought a copy yet? The link is at the top of this page.

SABU'S CHRISTMAS GIFT - a story in one hundred words

SABU’S CHRISTMAS GIFT

Sabu’s baby sister’s death from cholera was the final straw – wearing only shorts and rubber sandals he walked to the city, his mother’s wails ringing in his ears.

He swept a school in exchange for lessons, ate the scrapings of more privileged students’ plates, slept in his broom cupboard.

Each Christmas he walked home – each year there was one child less.

It took him five years to qualify, two more to earn enough, but finally he drove a rattling lorry home, where eager hands helped him unload its contents.

On New Year’s Day clean water began flowing from Sabu’s pump.

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Ted Schulz's photo prompted this story, although I rejected several other ideas along the way! Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers - and as I'm off to my brother's house for lunch Right Now I shall leave you with best wishes to a prosperous 2018 and sign off. Bye!!

COFFEE, ONE SUGAR - a one hundred word story

COFFEE, ONE SUGAR

He was huddled in the doorway with a dog sharing his sleeping-bag, his hair spiked with frost. Alice put her latte down beside his blue nose and hurried on, too embarrassed to linger.

The next day she put the coffee into the man’s hands, and when his icy fingers touched hers Alice blurted out, “How do you cope?”

He hugged his dog. “We keep each other warm.”

“What else can I bring you?”

“A hat would be welcome.” He raised the coffee and surprised her with a broad grin. “And less sugar – it’s bad for the dog.”

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I tried to write a different story today but this one forced its way through! Last week I turned a fleece blanket from an aeroplane 'comfort kit' into several warm hats for a homeless charity - they were so easy to make, and I have more than enough blankets. Perhaps you could do the same in your neck of the woods this winter?

Thanks to Bjorn Rudberg - who else could it be? - for the photo prompt, and to https://rochellewisoff.com/  for hosting Friday Fictioneers.

Great excitement this morning! I received an email from Amazon telling me my first royalty payment will be sent soon! I must admit I wasn't expecting one yet - sales of my book A Volcanic Race have been disappointingly slow - and I won't be retiring on the proceeds or even covering expenses, but it's a first for me :) 
On that positive note, I must thank every one of you for taking the time to read my stories and hope that you continue to do so in 2018. HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!!