Friday Fictioneers – The Great British People


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Copyright – B. W. Beacham

Here’s this week’s entry for Friday Fictioneers! I understand that a few of you might not understand the story if you don’t follow British politics, but I wanted to put it up anyway because it’s the first time I’ve tried to write something like this.

Edit: After writing this, I went to the pub with my mates, had a pint, and watched some morris dancers. I’m not joking.

Nigel Farage sat in his office, smiling at the paperwork that had been delivered this morning.

His assistant looked out of the windows at the wilderness that had once been London, a lone trolley rolling down the streets like metallic tumbleweed.

“It’s looking rather…” The assistant finished in his mind with the word bleak.

“Fantastic!The immigration level is at a record low!” Farage replied, beaming. “This is truly now a Great British Isle for Great British People!”

The assistant didn’t dare mention that, since UKIP came to power, the “Great British People” had moved to Poland. Better living conditions.



Alastair’s Photo Fiction – The Shortest Series


Copyright- Alastair Forbes

A quick submission for Alastair’s Photo Fiction! A bit rushed, unfortunately!

The hand-stitched Prada blazers were off. They’d started out in the foyer of the Savoy hotel and things had become decidedly less sophisticated from there. They battled with the voluminous copies of the Yellow Pages before making phone calls.

“Hey mate,” Jake drawled into his iPhone, in a cockney accent that clashed with his surroundings, “I’m looking for a… a can… candla… candlebra? …You don’t stock those?”

Hours later, they frantically scoured market stalls, sweating as they searched for those elusive items. They begged, pleaded and lied about dead aunts to get discounts. They gritted their teeth as their cars slowly inched down the congested London streets.

When darkness had fallen, they sat in the blue office, tense, their faces stiff with make-up for the camera.

Lord Sugar walked in, sat down, and there was moments silence before he tore into them.

“You’re bleedin’ useless, I’m firing the feckin’ lot of ya!”

31 December 2009/Alastair’s Photo Fiction – The Clean Sheet


Copyright – Alastair Forbes

So, I’m trying to cut down on my workload a little and merge the two things I need to post today. The photo challenge came from Alastair’s Photo Fiction Blog. To read about the library book project, click here:

Kayla tugs me along the embankment, eagerly pointing at the boats. I’m sweating inside my heavy coat, but Kayla darts along the path despite her many wrappings.

“Don’t pull your grandmother like that, Kayla!” My daughter gently reprimands the little girl, whose excitement only fades for a few seconds. Throughout the car ride down to London, she was full of questions. She’ll be exhausted by the end of this weekend away.

“It’s like the pictures we coloured in at the library, grandma!” My granddaughter’s smile is broad and infectious.

I agree with her. I ask her if she’d like to go to the library with me again. She nods enthusiastically.

I look backwards to see my daughter’s face. Her expression is strained and barely covers the years of resentment. I swallow and know that the apology in my eyes is not enough to erase the  murky stains on our past. The clean sheet with my granddaughter is more than I deserve.

Alastair’s Photo Fiction – Georgie


Copyright – Alastair Forbes

This prompt was taken from Alastair’s Photo Fiction Blog.

Harry saw a woman totter along the platform in black stilettos. Her attire, a well cut jacket and a pencil skirt, suggested she’d just left the office for the day. The way she staggered around suggested she’d actually just been chucked out of the nearest bar.

 “Fuck!” she proclaimed loudly. “Where the fuck did he go?”

She stumbled back the way she came before reappearing again a few minutes later.

 “Excuse me!” she called out to Harry. “Have you seen my pet?”

 “What does your pet look like?” asked Harry, nervously.  The woman laughed.

 “You’d know him if you saw him.” She glanced over Harry’s shoulder and broke into a grin. “Georgieeeee!”

Harry turned and got the shock of his life. Bounding down the platform was a reptilian creature the size of a small child. The thing ran on its hind legs, but jumped up to give its master a bear hug around the waist.

“Georgie! Never run away like that again!”

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.

If you wish to take part in Friday Fictioneers, click here.

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