PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
The tiggy game between the siblings began when Kellie grabbed Daz’s hat and took off over sticks, twigs, shrubs and rocks, nearly twisting an ankle, hearing the bellow of her brother chasing after her. She stumbled to a halt. Daz caught up, his grumbles halting as he took in what she spied in the brush.
“What’s it doing here?”
“Dunno.”
“Remember them lights the other night.”
“Looks like it’s been years.”
“Portal maybe? Rip in time?”
“We hid the travel gun after we de-aged. No one could follow us.”
They stared in silence, then walked back, lost in dark thoughts.
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Word Count: 100
© Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
We kept vigil.
Night after night.
In the hopes they’d come back.
The house lay empty behind us. We hadn’t stepped foot inside. All Terry had been able to report the night it happened was bright lights coming from the sky. The hovering ship. The size of a building, he claimed. Then lights that shone on Beth and Robert. And then, they were gone.
Of course, all three had been drinking that night.
But where had Beth and Robert gone, if not… up?
Though, Terry did have a grudge against them.
Said they’d sorted it out.
Yeah, I trust him.
This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt
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Word count: 100
© Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox
End one way.
Yeah, ain’t that the truth.
We up against them aliens. Have you seen the shapeships? Giant behemoths. We ain’t got nothin’ with the kinda fire power it would take to light ‘em up. We well and truly screwed. And when the end comes, it ain’t gonna be pretty. Seen ‘em up north. All them tiktoks and insta posts, and all them news broadcasts. Ain’t nothin’ left. They six-legged monsters with giant maws that just clean up stretch out and eat people. That’s why I’ve set me garden chair up ‘ere. I’m waitin’. Ain’t no use in runnin’.
This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt
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Word Count: 100
© Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
PHOTO PROMPT – © J Hardy Carroll
It was only in certain light that you saw them.
One day a year. At dawn. For five minutes.
Two tiny white dresses.
Then they were gone.
I’ve studied the phenomenon for several years now. Waiting in the dark. Waiting for dawn.
I’ve researched the history. The rumors. The lies. No one story is the same.
I’ve examined the area with all of my various devices. Temperature sensor. EMP. Radio. Automatic writing. Brought psychics and mediums.
Tonight is the night. At dawn I will approach and try to speak to them.
Three little white dresses are seen the next year.
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Word count: 100
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PHOTO PROMPT © Jen Pendergast
Oh, how it hurts to be replaced by a shiny, pretty new thing.
They do say that these days the new things don’t last long… they are too delicate… break quickly… designed to be replaced.
Not like us old things. Built to last.
It says a lot that the purchaser is too shallow to care about such things. The brighter, the more expensive the better. Always wanting more. Always wanting new.
The beings on this planet are just as shallow as the old ones. Tech glittery and bright. They won’t last. And when things break here, people die. Just deserts.
This is a Friday Fictioneers prompt response
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Word count: 100
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PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford
They said you had to hold it and gaze into it for at least eight hours to get the most benefit from the healing magic.
Eight.
Why not seven?
Or five for that matter?
Eight was oddly specific.
Many viewed it as a waste of time.
Those who did it, swore by it. Expressing feelings of euphoria, vitality, energy. Some swore they looked more youthful or received news of sudden windfalls.
They ignored the stories of death that came in their wake.
I opened a surprise parcel to find the crystal inside. There was no return address.
Do I look?
This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt
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Word count: 100
© Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
It was called the magic tree by kids on their way to school. They created mad adventures using the stump as their character. Magical. Mystical. Mysteries abounded.
It used to be more than the stories it starred in.
Magic was right. This stump… or the tree it used to be… stored the world in its roots, leaves, bark and sap. Created life. Created from life. The mother of all the world.
Now, just a stump.
But magic persists.
Deep roots still grow. Down down down. To the very heart of the world. The magic will destroy it all. Begin again.
This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt
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Word Count: 100
© Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
She watched from the top of the tower.
They gathered in groups, wearing strange clothing, speaking strange languages.
She watched them, eagerly noting the changes. Tracking the passage of time.
It made the years pass more swiftly than they once did. Back when there was no one to watch. Like in the cold times when the skies turned gray and the nights grew longer. Time seemed to tick interminably.
She wondered for how long she would be here. Watching from her tower. She lifted a hand to the sky, staring right through her own palm. Death is such a bore.
This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt
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Word count: 100
© Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Even from this distance I could feel the heat bloom against my skin. Then the boom and flashes of light. A celebration they said.
A celebration!
Ha
Of what?
Death and destruction.
Sure, we won. Beat the alien ships. Blowing up those that came too close to the ground and watched the firefights in the sky until the alien ships turned tail and ran.
We won.
So we celebrate.
The fireworks bring nothing but flashbacks. Blood. Burns. Bodies.
And we lost. Such a terrible loss of life. Alien weapons raked the ground destroying everything in their path.
Sure.
A celebration.
This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt
You can read more FF prompt responses here
Word count: 100
© Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. All Rights to the works and publications on this blog are owned and copyrighted by Solothefirst & Laurie Bell. The Owner of this site reserves all permissions for access and use of all documents on this site. NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
Rambles, writing and amusing musings 