Friday Fictioneers #18: something going on there later.

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It had been three years, each time that he thought he was getting out they rotated him back in, he felt lucky to have survived it. He wanted to see how the city had changed, the park had corrugated iron and razor wire all around, there was something going on there later. He took the E train and walked the last block, the streets deserted, the building next door was new. He ran up the fire escape, banged on the door three times. Odet answered in her knickers, said ‘I knew it would be you, you came, I’ve been chosen!’

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly photo-prompt flash fiction challenge, curated by the wonderful Rochelle Wishoff-Fields, and open to anybody. Full details here.

 

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Friday Fictioneers #17: get pay dirt.

 

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Private telephones were history by then and from seven every morning missus Baines sat by the window, looking out at the world beyond, just out of her reach, watching the occasional car drive past on the Wells road, remembering when she had first lived here and the old woman next door who had gone to school with her mother, Mabel and Elsie, remembering seeing her looking out at the world from behind her net curtains and saying, ooh, I hope I never get like that, if I ever get like that shoot me, and now she was Elsie Morris too.

Friday Fictioneers #16: nothing so dead as a diamond.

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They look like gateposts at the entrance to a stately home, all access barred. When you get close it’s clear that they’re not, but you keep the image in your head, a reminder of life before the fall. You put down the sack, flies buzzing everywhere, no place for a burial, push yourself through long grass, lean over the fence put there to keep you out. The pillars, encrusted with guano, turn out to be pressure regulators for a navigable aqueduct, something about maximum carriage  tamped into the rim. Then from inside, the hoarse and distant cry, ‘I’m in here’.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly photo-prompt flash fiction challenge, curated by the wonderful Rochelle Wishoff-Fields, and open to anybody. Full details here.

Friday Fictioneers #15: bar & grill.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly photo-prompt flash fiction challenge, curated by the wonderful Rochelle Wishoff-Fields, and open to anybody. Full details here.

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Hopkins only went in to ask for change for the condom machine, but he was intrigued by the picture of Simon Pegg dressed as Jesus at dead centre of the mural behind the bar. When he asked the barmaid about it, she told him that it wasn’t Pegg but the owner Toby Young, and that they held branch meetings of the taxpayers alliance in the backroom every Thursday, complete with canapés and a stripper, and he knew he was in Worcester. He pulled the sawn-off from the carrier bag, pointed it at her, told her to empty the fucking till.