Friday Fictioneers – Unstable

I’m sure you’ve all missed me over the Christmas break (*tumbleweed*) but I’m back with a Friday Fictioneers submission. If you’d like to submit your own story based on the picture, click here.

The stone crumbles beneath my fingertips, leaving dirty smears across my palms. I look up to see a house which should have been abandoned long ago, but you’re still there, staring at me sadly through the hole where the window should be. I see her clinging onto you. I see her tears. I see her mouthing her name for me.


She doesn’t understand that the waves of time decayed this place before I arrived, made the foundation so weak the whole thing could topple with one push.

 I place my hands against the rock and call out my final warning.


Friday Fictioneers – Homebird


Copyright – Dawn M Miller

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All her friends spoke about travelling as if it was a rite of passage, as if you couldn’t become an adult unless you’d been on a few aeroplanes or hitchhiked through Europe. Accordingly, Suzi saved her money, made plans, and spent six months travelling from city to foreign city. Her enthusiasm waned swiftly. Every town and every station felt the same. They weren’t hers. She persevered and smiled for photographs, unwilling to admit defeat. Even though they were separated by oceans, every time she stepped off a train, she hoped he would be waiting for her on the unfamiliar platform.

The Library Book Project – 27 June 2008

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I sit on a bench and breathe in the damp air. The sound of rain hitting my umbrella becomes grating. It adds a drumbeat to my anger. I want to stand up again, but my energy is fading as my emotions rise, causing this pent-up feeling, a tightness in my chest, a build-up of fury in this frail body. I thought I was over this. My friends all commended me on how well I’d handled things. They said I’d risen above it all, but I felt like I’d been buried in an early grave.

What choice did I have, really? I guess I could have shouted, and screamed, cut up his clothes and given away his possessions. I knew that none of those things would hurt him in the same way that he’d hurt me. All I had was his guilt, and I knew those actions would assuage it. It’s not that I enjoy playing the victim, but I hoped he thought of me at least occasionally, and that those thoughts tainted his new life.

I have a new life too, but it’s in an old setting. What’s familiar to me is unfriendly. Until the divorce goes through, it’s difficult to sell the house. Those rooms are minefields unless I drown out all the thoughts with noise, whether from the television or the radio. When I’m not at work, I watch programme after programme. All those reality TV shows he used to hate; I turn up the volume and immerse myself in other people’s lives and problems. My unhappiness is numbed and abated until it’s time to turn off the TV and go to bed.

It’s difficult to sleep, so I read until my head feels heavy. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. Being alone hurts like toothache. I roll between the sheets, trying to shake off the pain. I must get at least some sleep, because the alarm clock always jerks me into consciousness, reminding me that life goes on as normal and that my misery is inconsequential to everyone else. I have to get ready for work.

I sold the car to make ends meet, so now I travel by bus. Observing public transport etiquette, I studiously keep my eyes on my book (borrowed from the local library, actually supporting authors comes second to being able to afford food,) to avoid catching the gaze of another passenger. Sometimes this makes me feel a little sick, so I look out of the window and watch the world go by, wondering how many people out there are hurting just like me.

Friday Fictioneers/Taking Back The Crown – The Captain’s Diary


Copyright – Managua Gunn

I saw the picture this week, and coincidentally, it kind of fit in with today’s scheduled post for Taking Back The Crown, the not-so-mini-series I’m posting. I thought about doing a kind of two-in-one post, but 1. That would be cheating and 2. There were no 100 word segments of the post that made real sense.

I decided to create a diary entry for one of the characters instead.

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29th July 1922

 More disappointment today. I could not convince Dareth Vitch to assist us in the fight to reclaim Litia. I should not be surprised. It has been 20 years since Litia fell and the Royal Family disappeared.  Most people have made new homes and livelihoods. I cannot feel the same way. London will never be where I belong.

Linden’s efforts to gather troops for battle are admirable, but I fear we will never have enough manpower to purge Litia of the demons that possess it.

I continue to hope and pray for the Royal Family.

Captain Lineus Bayford