Friday Fictioneers – Terminus

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Terminus

As the express raced through the night, Cameron sized up the other passenger in the first-class compartment. Strong, fit, and, it would seem, armed. Like many before him, he seemed oblivious of the scrutiny of the self-effacing Scotsman sitting opposite. His mistake, thought Cameron.

The train roared as it entered the tunnel. Acrid steam blew into the carriage.

“I’ll shut the window, shall I?” enquired Cameron.

He stood, and operated the emergency brake. The train bucked, the brakes squealed, and Cameron turned, gun in hand.

“You’re past it, old man,” he heard, as the other man’s bullet felled him.

Blue Froggie!

 

 

Friday Fictioneers – In Plain Sight

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (Join the Party!) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

In plain sight

Jackson slouched against the crush barriers as he always did. Later, he would buy a chili dog, smother it with mustard and slurp a quart of soda, but for now there was work to be done.

Without doing more than glance casually at the shoppers, he checked them. “Harmless. Harmless. Armed…” He mumbled a few nonsense syllables and rolled his eyes. A nearby shopper speeded up.

“Thanks, Jacko,” came the voice in his concealed earpiece. “Male, Caucasian, heading towards the tower?”

“Yo!” He clicked his fingers, shuffled a dance step; faded into the background as he helped keep NYC safe.

Join the Party!

 

 

 

 

Friday Fictioneers – Murder in the Cathedral

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

I have to confess that I’m not quite sure where today’s story came from. It’s an emotional response to the prompt.

Murder in the cathedral

On to the dead go all estates,

Panting, I crouch, hidden behind the High Altar.

Princes, prelates, and potentates,

The Dean manages to wrest a sword from the grasp of one of the murderers; blades clash. A jet of blood, bubbling with his mortal scream, sprays over the altar, while the assassins’ ring-leader bays in triumph. They skewer the Archbishop as he babbles prayers, shrinking into his Cathedra.

Both rich and poor of all degree;

Will they butcher me too? I’m only a monk. I have no part in great events. I tell my rosary, shuddering.

Timor mortis conturbat me.

 

Notes

The story is written interleaved with a stanza of “Lament for the Makers” by William Dunbar. I first wrote the story using the original words, but that looked a little daunting, so I turned them into present day English. The final line of the stanza is Latin, and means “The fear of death troubles me”.

Murder in the cathedral

On to the ded gois all estatis,

Panting, I crouch, hidden behind the High Altar.

Princis, prelotis, and potestatis,

The Dean manages to wrest a sword from the grasp of one of the murderers; blades clash. A jet of blood, bubbling with his mortal scream, sprays over the altar, while the assassins’ ring-leader bays in triumph. They skewer the Archbishop as he babbles prayers, shrinking into his Cathedra.

Baith riche and pur of al degre;

Will they butcher me too? I’m only a monk. I have no part in great events. I tell my rosary, shuddering.

Timor mortis conturbat me.

Join the party!

Friday Fictioneers – Temptation

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (Join the Party) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Temptation

“You alright, Martha?”

I nod, make an effort to smile. Yesterday, the hospital gave me the Bad Diagnosis. Nothing they can do. Weeks, not months.

I sit at the check-out; might as well be at work as anyplace else.

My heart sinks. Mister Asshole is in line. Why does he always pick me? Today, he’s worse than usual. “The ‘Best Before’ date is today; give me a discount.” “The prices on the shelves are wrong; I should only pay the marked price, come look at the shelf.”

I sigh, remain polite – and leave the loaded pistol in my handbag unused.

Join the Party