Friday Fictioneers – Something In The Air

ff270914It had been a scalding hot summer. Blinding dust storms, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in generations, swept the plains. It was the mailman who found the Farnworth boys at their farm off of Highway 23A. Laid flat out in the yard they were, skulls burst like melons – a sweet smelling, yellow and red sap trickling slowly into the bone-hard dirt.

As we arrived, the Farnworth’s old mouser, Thumper, jumped down onto the porch and miaowed. On the gable end of the barn, gathering birds sang as cloudy skies cleared to the brightest, purest blue.

They say it’s going to be another hot one this year. More dust is on its way.
friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge. Weird picture, weird story. Went for atmosphere and a sense of menace this week. Hope you enjoyed it!

Friday Fictioneers – Peace Convoy

ff200814Hot, orange fires crackled amongst the ruins of what was once our street. Overhead, a whirring helicopter circled through the threatening, grey skies. From between the smouldering rubble a small, red-haired girl stepped forward. As the Soldiers watched, the girl carefully placed her posy of dandelions through the steaming grill of the first truck in the line: our liberation had begun.

I remained next to my mother. She had been very cold for sometime, but help was now here.

‘You there, boy, come with me,’ said the kind looking man.

‘But, my mother…,’ I said.

I didn’t look back as they loaded me onto the truck – I knew we’d already said our goodbyes.
friday-fictioneers

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

Friday Fictioneers – The Hard Sell

ff130814‘$70 is my final offer,’ said “Buy Anything” Bob Bradshaw, as he inspected the dust covered writing desk. ‘..and that’s me being generous,’ he added.

Mrs Thornberry narrowed her eyes. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed midday.

‘$70? Surely you can do better than that?’

‘Ok, ok. You got me, lady. There you go, $80. Just don’t tell folks or they’ll think I’ve gone soft!’

Mrs Thornberry watched from behind frayed net curtains as Bob wheeled the desk away. It had been her Harold’s desk and a measly $80 didn’t seem right, but at least it meant she could pay her bills for another month, before calling Bob again.

friday-fictioneers

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

Friday Fictioneers – Groundbreaking

ff060814The Di Cessano’s were legendary for their parties: porcini-stuffed wild boar roasted over flaming coals; the swirling, operatic tones of Flagstad and Melchior’s defining duet from Tristan und Isolde drifting out into the sultry, Tuscan night air.

Back then nobody knew about the fault line. Overnight, the house in the valley became the house on the hill.

If you drive past today, you may still catch a glimpse of Madame Di Cessano dancing in her silken gowns; defiant strains of Wagner echoing through the rugged, overgrown hillside. The parties may have stopped many years ago, but the memories linger on.

friday-fictioneers

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