Friday Fictioneers – Dressing Up

ff171214Frank’s wife had passed only last summer, but he never felt alone in their rambling, brick house on the corner of Mill St – not with his bugs. Some folks whispered he was a bit strange, he didn’t mind, maybe he was.

Frank woke as the brass clock began to chime four; a still warm fire crackled in the hearth.

The walls of the library were covered in dusty, framed plates displaying spiders, moths and beetles of all size and colour. On the armchair opposite, plush red sleeves and fluffy white cuffs glowed in the firelight.

He’d need to hurry – the children would be waiting.
friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

Friday Fictioneers – Land Grab

ff101214A sign hung loosely from the rusty gatepost.

‘Keep Out or Die!’ it screamed, each letter glistened a sticky red – likely written using her own blood.

The bushes on the other side of the bridge trembled; branches snapped and cracked under less-than-dainty footsteps. A set of sharp, blue eyes suddenly appeared, peering out through the foliage of thick, green undergrowth. She was watching; readying her defences.

Even though she was my sister, and nearly nine, there was three of us and the invasion was set for noon – a new King of the Island was soon to be crowned.
friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

Friday Fictioneers – Summer of ’69

ff031214It was mid-July – it should’ve been 80 outside, instead it felt more like 50. Glistening Icicles hung from the twisted branches of Mr Ebdon’s Apple Blossom tree. Sun-beaten kids used to dusty, humid summers pelted each other with powdery, white snowballs.

The crackling transistor in the kitchen announced the main road to Franksville was now blocked: the whole midwest had been thrown back into winter.

As the day darkened the flakes continued to fall – heavier with each fresh, frozen flurry. Nobody seemed that worried, most just fooled around. But I was worried: this meant something, and I was sure it weren’t something good.
friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

Eyewash and plastic spades

Originally posted on Wee Ginger Dug:

You’ve been promised something revolutionary and ground-breaking which is going to change the way you look at the world. This very special present has been placed in a huge box wrapped up in pretty paper specially printed by the Daily Record, and put under a Christmas tree with a devolution fairy on top, if you’re good little boys and girls Gordie Broon is going to wave his magic vowing wand for you. Finally, to a fanfare from the BBC and a chorus of MPs, you’re allowed to open the enormous container, and discover that it contains a three-way air freshener – the whiffs of Tory disdain, Lib Dem duplicity and Labour desperation – a plastic toy spade, and a small bottle of Optrex.

So that’s the Smith Commission then. Home rule it isn’t, as despite what the UK media and the Westminster parties might tell you there is no definition…

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