Bad Neighbours

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Here’s my attempt at this weeks Monday’s Finish the Story

Finish the story begins with: “A body suddenly crashed through a plate glass window at the Brigadier’s house.”

“Argghh not again! They said they’d fixed that stupid thing.” The Brigadier wiped egg yolk from his beard as he went to inspect the latest inconvenience.

“Jenkins! Get those inconsiderate Reticulans on the holophone right now. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”

It was a wortbort this time, mostly eaten of course. They only seemed to throw away the messy parts. This one was missing the half of its body, and was busy leaking all over the Brigadier’s clean white tiles. “And bring a mop”.

Due to an unfortunate set of events involving a quantum physicist and an architect, the Brigadier’s home was built above a wormhole which led to the garbage chute of a family living in the Orion Nebula. He’d shoved a few broomsticks up there, but they just seemed to enjoy eating those too. There was only one thing left to do. Send Jenkins up.

The Heirloom

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Here’s my last minute contribution to Monday’s Finish the Story. Thanks Barbara for the prompt!

Finish the story begins with: “On March 9th, 2015, three objects were reportedly seen in the skies over the Borracho Todos los Tiempos Vineyards.”

March 9 2125 – PJ stared down at his grandmother’s prized possession, carefully cradled in his hand inside its tattered plastic sheath. The faded old photograph showed the arrival of the creatures, over a hundred years ago. He had seen it before, when she brought it out on special occasions to show the family, and as always, it wasn’t the ships which drew his fascination. It was the earth, with its the blue sky, green trees, the red earth – it was so alive back then. He imagined what the breeze would sound like rustling through those trees, what it would be like to taste the fruit which grew on those vines.

The image was his now that his grandmother was dead – to share with his grandchildren one day, to show them how beautiful their home once was.

Word Limit: 135

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – A Fishy Tale

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Picking up the pace, she crossed the street and started moving towards the river. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he was still behind her.

Pushing down the help button she spoke into her phone. “Siri call Dave” Calling Debbie.. “Dave! Call. Dave”. I’m sorry but I don’t know how to help you. There is a Glade Lane nearby that I can direct you to? “No, you stupid thing!”

She could see the Ivory Towers up head now and broke into a run, bumping and weaving past the tourists loitering along the path. Hey, catch! She threw her phone at an unsuspecting woman.

A bullet ricocheted off the light pole in front of her and passed through the leg of an old man who was watching the boats. Reaching the river, she vaulted over the rail and threw herself in. Her scales opened up as the skin above peeled away, and she swam down into the murky safety of the Mer River.

Words: 165

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers- The Visitor

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With a final heave she was out of the ground. She lay on the moist earth for a moment to adjust to her new body, and took in the sights and smells of this new world. The busy earth beneath her, churning life out of the remnants of the dead. A blue sky above, singing with all the invisible sounds of this industrious little world, innocently heralding its presence to all who care to listen.

All around the tall sentinels of this world whispered to themselves in a language she hadn’t yet learnt. She rolled over and stood a while to watch as they sucked nourishment from the earth and light from the sun to make food.

She took a deep breath to fill her lungs and smiled to herself as she slowly exhaled. So sweet and clean it tasted.

A path lay ahead, leading no doubt toward the reason for which she had come to this world.

Another time, another place. Another adventure.

(Word limit: 164)