The Trials of Teresa Troll

under-bridge

The Trials of Teresa Troll

When I first met Teresa Troll she was wasting away under her bridge. People had been leaving town in droves since they built the bypass. Barely a soul had trip-trapped across her bridge in months. I must confess I was a little concerned for my safety. However, despite her hunger, Teresa insisted she’d never stoop to eating a vegan. Apparently, we taste of chickpeas.

Eventually Teresa packed her belongings and went to find a new bridge. I can’t say where she ended up, but if there’s a bridge near you, I’d suggest you check underneath before you go trip-trapping across…

(100 words)

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Authors note: I am not actually a vegan, and I doubt very much that I taste of chickpeas.

Click the link below to see what other Friday Fictioneers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.

Advertisements

Jack Woz Ere

js-brand-tree

Jack Woz Ere

Geraldine threw down her cap in horror. She’d returned from the pub after a quick pint to find the words JACK WOZ ERE carved into her favourite tree. People thought Tree Protection Officers watched trees all day … okay, she basically did. Now she’d failed at even that simple task.

I’m going to get fired, thought Geraldine. Maybe if I carve a little here, shave a bit there…

Hours later she stepped back, admiring her work. Not bad.

Even better, her hat had filled with coins while she worked. Enough for a pint, Geraldine grinned and headed back to the pub.

(100 words)

PHOTO PROMPT © JS Brand

Apologies to any Tree Protection Officers out there, I realise there’s more to the job than watching trees! I’ve been on holiday for a couple of weeks (did you miss me?). The wifi was bad and the company good so I didn’t try to participate while I was away but am looking forward to getting stuck into this week’s stories.

Click the link below to see what other Friday Fictioneers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.

A Little Present From Sprongolia

sandras-shells

A Little Present from Sprongolia

Shronk and Frickle thoroughly enjoyed visiting the natural history museums on Earth. They’d squeeze their Sprongolian lifeforms into human suits and adopt Earth names for the occasion. Today, Shronk chose ‘Sandra Crook’ and Frickle picked ‘Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’.

Sandra pointed at an exhibit entitled ‘Under the Sea’ and giggled.

‘It always amuses me to see this on display,’ she said, in Sprongolian. ‘What do they call it again?’

Rochelle squeezed her three tongues together to formulate the word in English.

‘C-o-r-a-l,’ she said, enunciating proudly.

‘And they’ve no idea it’s actually Sprongolian … waste matter?’

‘Nope.’

‘Shit,’ said Sandra.

‘Literally,’ said Rochelle.

 

(100 words)

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Sorry Sandra! Sorry Rochelle! Talk about taking someone’s name in vain!

I’m off on holiday this weekend for a couple of weeks so please don’t think I’m ignoring you if I don’t reply immediately. If the WiFi’s good (and the company’s bad) I may take a peek while I’m away 🙂

Click the link below to see what other Friday Fictioneers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.

Fallout Towers

dinner-table-prior.jpg

Fallout Towers

George sighed as he surveyed the empty foyer and wondered why his Chernobyl-themed hotel was such a massive flop. He’d spent years planning every detail from the radiation-themed wallpaper to the complementary hazmat suits. He couldn’t understand it.

‘Maybe,’ said his long-suffering wife, glowing quietly. ‘If you hadn’t built it here. In Chernobyl. Slap-bang in the middle of the exclusion zone. Where people aren’t actually allowed to go?’

George contemplated this briefly.

‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Give it time.’ And he picked up a glass and gave it a quick polish while the Geiger counter in the corner ticked away feverishly.

(100 words)

PHOTO PROMPT © Priorhouse

The prompt made me think of empty hotels and reasons why they’d be empty. However, it turns out that a hotel in the exclusion zone of Chernobyl is not such a crazy idea. Someone beat George to it: Pripyat Hotel, Chernobyl

Click the link below to see what other Friday Fictioneers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.

Pushing Up Daisies

Greta knelt in the flowerbed admiring the exquisite white daisies, they were truly spectacular this year. She was famed for her green fingers, friends joked that she could plant anything and make it grow: shoes, umbrellas, even money (she tried – no joy).

Greta was rarely allowed to buy seeds; her husband kept a tight hold on the purse strings, and on his wife’s strings. He enjoyed making her dance. Until she snapped and he found himself on the receiving end of her hefty garden spade.

Who knew he’d make such excellent fertilizer? Greta inhaled the daisy’s heady fragrance and smiled.

(100 words)

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

 I’m a day late this week. Busy, busy, busy! The picture made me think of an umbrella tree, and my story sprouted from there 🙂

Click the link below to see what other Friday Fictioneers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.

Boxed In

 We lived in Gothic House, seven squeezed in students. My room was the smallest, a cupboard really, barely space for the slatted single bed, but only a tenner a week. I kept my suitcase under the bed, wide open. When I needed anything, I’d sit at one end and roll up the mattress to get to my things. For a really good rummage, I’d drag the whole suitcase into the hall.

Now I wander through my country house, with its marble floors, balconies and double bedrooms, and I wish I could peel the mattress back to those Gothic House days.

(100 words)

Photo prompt © J Hardy Carroll

 Another Friday, another fiction. This one’s less ha ha and more wistful aah. Click the link below to see what other Friday Fictioneers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.

Square Peg

This story won first place in Zeroflash’s monthly flash fiction competition. The theme was 8-bit universes and it got my creative juices flowing. Why not pop over there and have a go at this month’s offering? After you’ve read all about Square Peg of course!

Square Peg

Mrs Peach sat in the doctor’s surgery and squeezed her daughter Peggy’s hand, trying to ignore the stares they were getting. Please don’t let anyone drop the P-bomb, she thought to herself, fingers crossed. A small boy pushed open the door, pulling his mother behind him. Spotting Peggy, he stopped abruptly. Hand outstretched, finger pointing, he uttered the word that Mrs Peach had been dreading.

“Mum, that girl’s all pixelated!”

Two red squares burned in Peggy’s low-res cheeks.

“We don’t use that word, Robert, we say ‘underdefined’,” said the boy’s mum, ushering him away. She turned to Mrs Peach, “Sorry, he doesn’t know any better.”

Yesterday was Peggy’s tenth birthday. The whole class was invited, although only a handful came, a pitfall of being the only underdefined child at a high res school. Mrs Peach had laid on all of Peggy’s favourites: Battenberg cake, Turkish delight, Kola Kubes and cartons of juice. Then Grandma ruined the day, calling Peggy “too jagged for cuddles”. Grandma’s was a different generation, but that was no excuse. Peggy ran outside. Mrs Peach found her hiding in the garage trying to rub off her edges with sandpaper.

Still, things were looking up. Dr Trenneman had had some success with cases like Peggy’s. When the doctor appeared Mrs Peach squeezed her daughter’s angular hand once more and allowed her to be led away.

Ten long minutes later

Dr Trenneman reappeared … Mrs Peach couldn’t believe her eyes … Peggy was fixed! She had curves, individual strands of hair, even teeth! And look! Eyelashes! She hugged, and hugged Peggy’s warm, soft body.

“Thank you! Thank you!” she said. “How did you do it?”

“Oh, it was simple really,” said the doctor, smiling. “I just switched her off, waited five minutes and then switched her back on again.”

(300 words)

turkish-2893751_1280