100 Word Friday Fiction: Aftersun

It was too hot to work, flies buzzed round Joe’s head as he tried to keep the sweat out of his eyes with little success.
The job needed to be done, unfortunately for Joe it turned out to be the hottest day of the year and the sun burned down on to the top of Joe’s balding head.
There was once a time when his wife Josephine would’ve rubbed aftersun on that,
she would’ve put lotion on his blistered hands too where the axe handle had slipped from his grip.

Joe looked at Josephine and let his axe fall again.

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100 Word Friday Fiction: Aftersun

Friday Fiction: Noah

“Ladies and Gentleman, all your thoughts on the matter are of course appreciated, but we still haven’t talked about the elephant in the room…”
The members of the gathered associated press laughed as flash blubs illuminated the stage.

“Two elephants surely.” One of them called out, to further guffaws.

“Why yes dear boy. Two of everything.” Noah replied, holding aloft two fat fingers, causing more flash bulbs to splash light in his direction “Any further questions?”

“Noah, Bill Malcolm New York Times, How do you plan on stopping the animals from eating each other?”

“I’ve spoken to them of course” Noah replied with a twinkle in his eye. “No in all seriousness the Ark is the most sophisticated thing the human race has ever built, the holding pens for all the animals are state of the art as you’ll see from the booklet we have provided.”

“Did you build the Ark yourself?” a voice called out.

“No it’s 2015 and I’m no boat builder. No, better to think of me as the project lead.”

“It is true you had issues with finance for the project?” said another.

“Every start up has difficulty keeping afloat.” Noah smiled through the groans from the crowd this comment caused, a man very much in his element. “But Coca-Cola, McDonalds and Addias all have been very happy to be involved with the project and they have given us the capital to quite literally save the world.”

“What do you say to all the people who say this is just a publicity stunt from you and those sponsors? An ego trip or an attempt to ‘Break the internet’ if you will”

“The reality is,” Noah replied gazing towards the window to his left and beyond to a clear blue sky “that without the internet and social media, the sponsors or indeed you, the members of the press wouldn’t be here and the Ark wouldn’t have been built. This is not about me, it’s about the boat and the animals.”

“What do you say to Greenpeace and the millions of animal charities throughout the world who doubt your claims and level charges of animal cruelty?”

“I would say it’s far crueller to let all the animals drown. Again they are welcome to look around the Ark to see the wonderful facilities we have, an improvement for many animals over their natural habitats.” Noah said with a steely look in his eye.

“You say a voice from the sky told you to build this ‘Ark’ despite it being the driest year since records began. Do you understand that people may doubt your claims?”

“Of course, I doubted myself. I am a man with an open mind, but even I worried I was going nuts. The voice spoke to me a number of times and was pretty convincing. I have attempted to warn the world best I can, there are always gonna be people who doubt you”

“What if you are wrong?”

And then the rain began to fall.

Noahs Ark Animal3

Friday Fiction: Noah

Friday Fiction: Jolene

She was pleased she was no longer under the glare of the studio lights. It had been a long week to be a news anchor. Riots and civil unrest in her city, she grew weary of being the barer of bad news, there was only so much beautiful auburn hair and flawless smile could do to lighten the turmoil on the streets.

She was heading fast towards her dressing room, gliding across the floor with the grace of a dancer in a deep green dress suit. She opened her dressing room door and kicked off her heels with one seamless motion. She closed the door behind her and let out a deep sigh. Then she felt something hard press in the small of her back.

“Don’t you fucking move Jolene!” snarled a woman’s voice.
Jolene let out a small scream that was soon stifled by her assailant shoving the gun harder into her spine.
“One more sound and I swear to God. Sit down over there!” the woman hissed waving towards a nearby chair with her gunless hand.

Jolene stumbled toward the chair, head spinning. What the hell did this nut job want?

The woman produced some rope and tied Jolene to the chair, almost the second she had sat down, she tied knots with skill that most boy scouts would die for. With a struggling Jolene secured the woman began to pace back and forth like a caged Lion. She went first to the dressing room door and locked it, then went so the emmy award winning news anchor could see the whites of her eyes.
“You stay the fuck away from my man you hear me?” she growled. “You see I had to have a little talk with you. I can’t just sit there and let you take him away.”

Jolene shook her head. She had no idea what the woman was talking about, she was no angel and in the past had had many a fling, and she could indeed proudly say that no man, or woman for that matter had ever turned down her advances, but she was too busy for an affair.
“No” she said softly . “I have no idea what you are talking about”
“Liar!” the woman bellowed into Jolene’s face, “You don’t know what he means to me, how dare you sit there and deny it.”
“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment” still calm, measured, how she delivered bad news to the camera. “Now if you’d stop waving the gun about, maybe we could talk this over.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Talking. I heard him say he loves the way you talk.”
“I’m pretty sure, I’ve never met your husband. Tell me his name.”
“Tony Rogers.” said the woman growing twitchy.
“I can honestly say I’ve never met a Tony. Please put the gun down, I think you have made a terrible mistake.”
“Mistake? You fucking bitch,” the woman shouted nearly hitting Jolene with the butt of her pistol, but for some reason thinking better of it, maybe liking the reaction on Jolene’s face. “Scared you there didn’t I. Tony tells me you are so so brave.”
“Listen, I’ve never met Tony.” Jolene pleaded.
“Tony tells me, you are so beautiful and so brave. He never stops talking about you”
“I don’t know what else to say. I have never met, seen, or spoken to anyone named Tony”
“You lie,” the woman says, almost smiling, pleased with herself, “He says he meets up with you twice a week, on Tuesday and Thursday”
“At 10pm?”
“Ah ha you whore, You admit it.”
Jolene laughed nervously “At 10pm Tuesday and Thursday I present my show.”
The woman looked at her blankly.
“Your husband,” Jolene continued “Watches my show. I said there was a stupid mistake.”
Then the shot was fired, that struck a helpless Jolene in the side of her head. Causing her to slump down in the chair.
“No-one calls me stupid.”

Friday Fiction: Jolene

Friday Fiction: The Landing

Jessica O’Malley moved to the city five years ago, she drove a delivery truck. She was originally from Boston and as close to an Irish rose as you could be without being born on the emerald isle. She had long red hair, which on this gusty day was swept back into a pony tail and topped with a green woollen hat that the salesperson said brought out her eyes. Jess didn’t care, it kept her head warm. She had a body which like any 28 year old she wasn’t happy with. The guys at the delivery depot from which she was driving didn’t seem to notice any imperfections, but what did they know. Guys eh, she thought.

Guys, or rather, one particular guy was the reason she sat in New York City traffic. She’d moved to the city to be with him. They split after he had a string of illicit liaisons the last of which had been with her sister.

Mike was a jerk and Jess was glad to be rid of him. But she grew to love his city, so she stayed. She found a job and the guys there were fun to be around, no-one date worthy however. She loved her job and people she would meet but sometimes it got all too much so the cab of her truck gave her space and time to herself. An oasis amongst the people, traffic and the elements, a peaceful haven whenever she needed it. Usually.

A huge crash shattered her peace.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, not another accident. Her boss was gonna be pissed, but something was different. The impact seemed to push her cab down rather than the usual forward motion of a fender bender.
“Arrh” she heard coming from the back her truck. The traffic wasn’t going anywhere and people were looking strangely at her and the truck, pointing. So she killed the engine and clambered out to investigate.

A small crowd had gathered. Jess was confused, what the hell was going on? She pushed through the crowd slid up the rear door of the truck and peered inside, along with at least ten strangers.
“Look,” she said. “Back the fuck off, it’s just an accident. Stop being so goddamn nosey” Jess clambered up into the truck and slid the door down behind her, no-one was stealing anything from her truck!

She looked up, there was a hole in the roof of the truck. beneath the hole, in amongst todays cargo, which happened to be mattresses was a balding fat guy, cradling his arm and moaning in pain.
“What the hell man!” Jess said. “How the fuck did you…”
“I fell.” the man stuttered.
“Where the hell from? There isn’t a overhanging branch in this city”
“That apartment block. My arm really hurts.”
“Fuck your arm, look at my truck. How do I know this wasn’t a dumass plan to rob me or something?”
“It wasn’t I promise you, I just slipped.”
“What the fuck are you doing up there anyway?” Jess said. “You ain’t Spiderman, you one of those meth heads tryna fly?”

The man looked at Jess. Took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

“You may not know it, but you just saved my life. My arm hurts like hell, but I don’t regret falling anymore. I have never loved anyone more..”

He passed out.

NY Street Scene

Friday Fiction: The Landing

Late Friday Fiction: The Fall

Who knew?

Apparently it was true, your life does flash before your eyes before you die. I perhaps should have done more, but no regrets eh. Except maybe slipping, that was a major regret. But clumsiness leading to a inevitable fatal fall not the most glamorous way to go out. I had perhaps underestimated  the effects of the wind on the human body at 15 stories high, but I blame her entirely. Her smile, her eyes, her hair..

Why did she have to live on the top floor?

Why could she not have lived on the ground floor? Easy access and a easy route to enable a guy to make silly romantic gestures. A ground floor apartment would have eliminated the need for climbing and indeed falling entirely. A ground floor apartment would have made it much easier for a rotund gentleman such as myself. Mind you the surprise element on the ground floor would have been lost somewhat, hard to make a dramatic entrance through the front door! How mundane.

Why did I never pay attention in science class?

I would have been able to work out how fast I am falling. Even now I’m thinking this a strange thing to think about, with seconds left. Science and the absurdity of thought! Not my Mom and my Dad… well not my Dad, my “special” Uncle. My real Dad is an ass and living in Missouri with someone my Mum called a “brazen hussy” meaning the woman had bigger tits than her. Dad was always a “breast man” ironic really as last time I saw him his were bigger than any woman’s I’ve seen. Still he has the last laugh I guess cos he is safe with this moobs and his hussy and I am currently plummeting to my death.

Will I get into Heaven?

Maybe God will save me, or Spiderman. Who knows they are both figments of someones imagination but as the wind swooshes by I’d be happy if I dunno, Snap Crackle and/or Pop wanted to turn up and catch me. If heaven exists in my wildest dreams, the girl on the top floor should be there waiting for me on a four poster bed covered in maple syrup. Her not the bed cos that would be silly. I dunno religious types down here spend so long going on about how bad sex is, I guess all of it would be be banned in heaven. Hell then!

Will people understand?

I’m a very loving guy. I lived my life meaning no harm to anyone. The girl on the top floor is but the latest in a long line of my loves. Each one I have treated the same, I am very attentive whereas other guys they’d go off to ball games or to bars. Not me, always around. Always looking. Sometimes I’d get rewarded for my patience, a little flash here a little peak there.  They knew all about me, they did. They looked longingly into my eyes. The girl on the top floor, she had the most beautiful eyes. I’m sure she’d miss me, or even feel a little guilty that her silly court order had made me climb to her apartment to catch what I am certain now would be my last glimpse.

SOUTH ELEVATION, VIEW OF TOP STORIES, TAKEN FROM ROOF TOP ACROSS STREET, CLOSER VIEW - Palmetto Building, 1400 Main Street at Washington Street, Columbia, Richland County, SC HABS SC,40-COLUM,17-5


Apologies for the lateness of posting. Please visit the “worth stalking” Captivating Kitten and a man who’s retraining order was a “misunderstanding” The Resident Weeble for their excellent pieces

Late Friday Fiction: The Fall

Friday Fiction: The Warzone

For this weeks Friday Fiction I got a start from Captivating Kitten. Her words are in purple. I rather bleakly finished it.


The flicker of the lamp was starting to get irritating.  Crumpling up yet another piece of paper he stood up from the desk and threw it into the pile by the window.  It’s been ten days since he’d left the house, or at least that’s what the red crosses on the calendar said.

The crosses to him represented failure rather than passing of the time. A failure to escape and to write anything, to tell the world of his story. Not that the story of Malcolm Murphy would be of interest to anyone ordinarily but the world in which he now lived was anything but ordinary.
People said it was a blessing to be born just after the third war. No more bomb blasts and enough peace treaties to ensure peace for another one hundred years so the media said. What they never mentioned was fifty years of struggle, black outs and hunger, whilst the leaders of all four sides involved in the conflict lived in complete comfort.

A younger Malcolm had fought, against the power, but the “peace treaties” made it impossible for anyone to fight the system for too long and live. Aged 25 Malcolm grew tired of watching his friends die or disappear, so he decided to keep his head down and live best he could for himself. It was hard but at his lowest ebb Malcolm met Grace. Grace made Malcolm forget the struggle and he felt a sense of freedom whenever he was with her. Amongst the riots and the broken glass the two of them forged a love that was so strong that Malcolm looked forward to a day where all people could all experience the joy he felt there and then with Grace.

Grace would have helped him write.

With Grace still around there would be no need to write. But she was gone. It has only been a month. They took her away from him early before sun-rise, they had entered their apartment, without word of warning and stolen Grace, his wife of nearly 25 years. Malcolm had heard of this happening to other people, but not to him, no never. Not now. They couldn’t have taken Grace because of what he did all those years ago. Could they?

For the first few weeks Malcolm searched for Grace, but the curfew and misinformation made his search dangerous. People he had classed as friends even denied that Grace ever existed, so not as to get themselves “into trouble.” Malcolm cared not for the outside world and the struggle. He felt just as he had before he met Grace. Browbeaten and alone he reached for more paper. The world must know, he thought.

The wail of sirens broke through the nights stillness and Malcolm could see the flashing lights and the flames burning high in the streets below through his smeared window. Firecrackers went off as Police and the militant few hardy souls clashed. Malcolm began to write about the end of his life in the warzone. As the noose he’d prepared days before was illuminated by the fiery skies.
Power lines south of Pfungstadt in fiery sky

Friday Fiction: The Warzone

Friday Fiction: The Lift

“17th floor please.”
“Oh, in to the frying pan eh”
“Well I told them, I said there is no way that was going to work.”
“You got nothing to worry about then have you… Why does this lift take so long?”
“Maybe the hamster died!”
“Hamster?”
“Yeah the one in the wheel that powers all three lifts!”
“Finally! Movement, if you can call it that. When is your meeting? Do you have time?”
“I have about 10 minutes”
“Should just about make it then. You know he won’t let you in if you are late don’t you?”
“I heard that but I thought it was just a rumour”

Fifth Floor, doors closing lift going up

“Morning…”

Seventh Floor, doors opening.
Doors closing, going up.

“God I hate him.”
“Watkinson, yeah. I saw you gazing at the floor”
“The guy is a idiot. Part of the reason it all failed, but will he get any flack?”
“No course not, he’ll get promoted.”
“I’d laugh but it’s all too true. Lets hope no-one gets in from nine!”
“Here he goes again with the totally unjustified hatred of the workers of floor nine”
“Unjustified it’s not unjustified.”
“Steve, if you choose to have sexual intercourse, no less, next to the photocopier and then get caught it’s hardly their fault.”
“Hmm. They got me suspended for…”
“9 months.. Yes I know, you’ve told me. At least once, maybe six hundred times”
“Yeah well it’s not like she was worth it.”
“You are only bitter cos you got toner dust on your bum”
“That stuff doesn’t come off… My wife noticed.”
“What did she say when you got suspended?”
“She didn’t stick around. All because of those bastards on nine.”
“Yes OK Steve. Whatever you say.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Loud wasn’t it? These lifts are clunky but that was something else.”
“Now the lights.”
“Hang on I’ve got my lighter in here somewhere.”
“I thought you’d given up.”
“Anyone would think you wanted to stay in the dark. Here we go”
“Should I press the alarm button?”
“Now would be the very best time I would think.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“Nope. Try again.”
“Still nothing. For fucks sake”
“Don’t worry I’m sure someone will be along in a minute, Watkinson knows we are in here”
“Oh yes!…. Do you have any signal on your phone?”
“No.. I don’t think so..let me check.. Oh fuck that’s hot.”
“Oh well done Steve. The end with the flame is hot! Good luck finding it in the dark down there.”
“Move over I think you are stood on it.”
“I move, it creaks.”
“It’s only creaking, besides it’s not like you weigh anything”
“Ok but I’m scared.”
“I’m sure it will be fine, better when it’s not pitch black eh Suze”
“Ok ok, You found it?”
“Yep got it.”
“That’s better”
“Suze?”
“Yes Steve”
“Are you holding my hand?”
“I’m scared, I hate these lifts. I’m sorry I’ll let go if you like”
“No it’s ok. I kinda like it.”
“Good as long as it’s not weirding you out”
“No not at all….”
“…. Steve…”
“Yeah”
“I have often thought what it would have been like if it were me by the photocopier. With you I mean.”
“Wha… Wait it’s the doors, they’re opening.”

Ponderosa elevator


The beautiful Captivating Kitten has given me a lift this week by participating in #FridayFiction here with another dialogue only story which encouraged me to write this one. My earlier dialogue drama is here if you liked this one. The Resident Weeble has something good in the offing, but it’s not ready yet.

Friday Fiction: The Lift