‘I see they’ve had a reshuffle at Mount Olympus.’
‘Yes, they’ve gone all modern. Embracing new technology.’
‘About time, so who’s gone where?’
‘Well, Zeus is still tops but remember that wood-nymph, Skype?’
‘In charge of the toadstools?’
‘That’s the one, she’s been promoted, part of visual communications now; but here’s the shock: Hermes is out.’
‘Well, no one wants a winged messenger these days, not when you’ve got Facebook and texting.’
‘Yes, I suppose not. So where’s he gone?’
‘They’ve put him in a call centre dealing with technical enquiries.’
‘Hermes? Computer hardware?’
‘No, Windows support.’
Friday Fictioneers (FF) is a challenge open to writers all over the world: write a 100 word story using the week’s unique photo as inspiration. This week’s picture is supplied by Al Forbes. (© Al Forbes)
More hows, whens and whats of FF can be found here at Rochelle’s site. (Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting.)
More FF stories here
I’ve had this short story for a couple of weeks now and don’t know what to do with it. I was aiming for ultra-short fiction but at 36 words this piece seems a little bloated somewhere around the middle. However, owing to the nature of the subject matter, I’m a little hesitant to cut any more.
See what you think…
A Close Shave:
His back twitched and he breathed hard onto the cold mirror, steaming his view. Blood dripped into the bath. He cursed.
The paramedics were dumbfounded
when they arrived:
‘What idiot tries to extract their own kidney?’
This is based on a true story I read in the ’90s.
If this post messed with your mind in a way you liked
but wished you’d have read it after breakfast because now you feel queasy,
then you need to get Better
There was a challenge on a writing forum to produce a 50-word story that had to end with the phrase ‘With that – she shot him!’
I don’t advocate the use of handguns nor exclamation marks but here is my effort.
‘The .44 Magnum, one of the most powerful handguns, delivers a large, heavy bullet at high velocity at the expense of recoil, so much so that it is considered unsuitable for shooters of smaller, feminine, weaker build.’ He said, handing her the big gun.
With that – she shot him!
The other night I was watching a TV programme about murder in fiction where the presenter kept on talking about melodrama but pronouncing it ‘mellowdrama’. Like: ‘Hey man, let’s do a murder.’
It spoiled the effect really.
Mellowdrama – stop saying it like that! The Victorian crime scene suddenly lost all of its haunting black&white magic of bare brick streets bathed in expressionistic shadows – the London smog now just looked like some marijuana haze. Two costumed innocents stumbled across a body.
‘Dude, someone’s dead.’
‘Are they? Far out.’
Who did the police suspect? Everyone. No, I’m not being paranoid. I’ve just eaten a whole tub of humous. I need more. What were we talking about? Oh look, ants.
Mellowdrama, Oh, man! This is crazy Victorian shit cut with a sixties vibe.
Horizontal murder. Who could have committed such a despicable crime? The police were in two minds which was a massive clue. They arrested Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde-the-drugs. Except he got off on a technicality as his defense successfully argued he was suffering from a spliff personality. Jekyll, or Hyde, whoever, should have been hanged but instead he got stoned.
I rest my case. It’s tired.
That’s definitely enough mellowdrama for one day.
If this post messed with your mind in a way you liked, you need to get Better