The Fire

FFfAW 20170403Looking out from a makeshift natural cover lean-to, I made sure I hadn’t been followed. Living in the woods in this post-apocalyptic society, it was better to be safe than sorry. When I was satisfied that I was alone, I started to build a small fire with the sticks and twigs I had collected.

This mist had dampened the sticks, and would make it harder to light them. Remembering the Vasoline smeared cotton balls in my pack, I placed one into the base of fire, surrounded by the smallest twigs, and a bit of dried grass. Then getting my fire steel and flint, I sent a stream of sparks onto the cotton ball. It started to glow, then a small flame appeared. In no time at all, a warming fire was going, and I could get something to eat and a hot drink.

Thank you Yarnspinner for our photo prompt this week!

This is my 141 word story for the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. We are given a photo prompt and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. It’s fun and everyone is invited to participate. For more information, click HERE.

To read the other stories submitted for this challenge, click on the blue froggy button below:

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What have you done?

“What have you done!” Steph exclaimed.

“It wasn’t growing, … so I added some more” Mike said weakly.

“I warned you that it was very strong, how much did you use?” Steph asked.

Holding up the empty bottle, “All of it” Mike replied.

Shaking her head, Steph looked around carefully at the forest growing in her front garden.

“You could have at least moved the car first”, Steph cried, FFfAW 140317“how am I going to get to work now?”

Mike looked at the suddenly overgrown rusted hulk of their former car, “That stuff sure is strong.” He  replied.

 

96 Words

 

This is my 96 word story for the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. We are given a photo prompt and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. It’s fun and everyone is invited to participate. For more information, click HERE.

To read all the amazing stories written for this challenge, click on the blue froggy button below:

 

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Once upon …

Flash Poetry

Complete this poem in less than 100 words

Once upon a mossy log,

A small frog did sit …

frog on a mossy log

 

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In the Ramparts…

In the ramparts of the castle high above the river, the archer looked down at the boats tying up to the bank. Taking careful aim, he stretched his bow taut.

“Hold breath, and release” he said to himself.

But, there were so many of them, was it even possible to win against so many.

Overcoming his doubts, the archer sighted a regally decorated soldier about to disembark, he drew back his arrow, aimed carefully…

“Time to go Tommy! It’s our time to ride on the boat now.” his mother called.

“Okay Mummy!” Tommy said, skipping over to his mother’s side.

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Thank you Louise for our photo prompt this week!

 

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Whipped by the Wind

Ahead, the forest of green whipped back and forth, as if the wind was constantly changing directions. They edged forward, unsure of what was to come. Sliding silently through the forest was a dark shape, it’s shadow flitting just in front of them. Taking cover behind a large rock they waited, breathing in short, shallow breaths.

Gliding past them, from behind, came a pair of shadows, seemingly unbelievably large. Thinking it safer, they slipped through the wall of green. Staying low. Ensuring that they didn’t get tangled in the whipping plants, they progressed to the other side.

Kelp ForestParting the greenery on the far side, they were dazzled by the colours before their eyes. Moving into the open, they looked with wonder at various colours and shapes filling the space between the forest and the distant wall. As they explored the plain in front of them, they remained in a state of awe. Everywhere they looked, there was something new to see. A dazzling array of life.

After twenty minutes of exploring, it was time to leave. Finding the guide, they left the realm of wonder behind. Ten minutes later… they were sitting around a table, talking about all they had seen and done. Hot coffee cups steaming on the table, forgotten.

“We’ll be back in port in fifteen minutes, we hope you enjoyed the dive.” The captain of the dive boat announced.

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The Growth Serum

FFfAW 260716 Louise

(c) Louise

The sun beat down, scorching the ground. In any other place this would be a disaster, but here…

“The lettuce will be ready to pick tomorrow!” Sam exclaimed, “It’s even bigger this year! Wow, this new method really works.”

“I’ll fill the tank for another run,” Bob said.

With a creak, the tank lid opened. Bob lifted a brown glass bottle and poured the contents slowly into the tank. The liquid in the tank turned milky as it mixed with that poured from the bottle.

“Ready for bottle number two?” Sam asked.

“Okay,” Bob replied, awaiting the second bottle.

This time he poured it into the tank, with small sloshes. Each time it hit the tank’s contents, a puff of smokey vapour appeared. As the bottle emptied, the vapour dissipated into the air.

“Time to start the pump?” Bob stated, “this drip irrigation method takes hours, but it really does the job.”

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City of Sand

The city was crowded. Mothers and children everywhere. It was noisy and dirty. Strangely, there were very few men. The air was hot, inside was even hotter. Most of the families sat outside, in whatever shade they could find, seeking some solace from the burning sun.

Occasionally, a vehicle would pass. Sometimes the people would chase after the vehicle, waiting to see who, or what was inside. Other times, they would run and hide. Sometimes, they would escape into the surrounding countryside, and wait. maybe for days.

Unfortunately, this was not the only such city, they were numerous, with seemingly more being developed every week. To those who lived in them, they felt alone and forgotten. It was like the rest of the world didn’t exist; it was like the rest of world didn’t care… every now and then some form of tribute, trickled in to the cities.

Periodically, often during the night, there would be a screeching or loud crashing sound in the sky. At these times the residents would flee, hiding wherever they could. Often, when they returned, parts of the city were damaged, sometimes the cities would be filled with strangers. Often violent strangers.

When the strangers visited, often some of the people of the cities would die. Some of the older boys would disappear. Some of the older girls may be injured, or worse. Unfortunately, that was life, and it didn’t seem to change. Year, after year, it continued.

These are cities on the sand.

This is Syria!

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City

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