Escape.

ships

© Fatima Fakier Deria

 

The scene: chaos.

Every boat that could float was in the marina. People fleeing in hoards.

Why?

A coup-de-tet flipped the government. Already, people watched their liberties dwindling slowly under the pressure. It was an atmosphere of fear and paranoia, and people running scared.

Then, it happened. The big ‘It’.

Suddenly, the airports were closed.

The trains were locked down at their rail yards.

Fuel was rationed only to the few rich executives of major industry.

The only means of escape, the waterways. If you were lucky enough to get to a marina before the ships were gone, that is…

WC: 100

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Three Roads Converge…

Capture

Kampala, Uganda, Africa google map image for What Pegman Saw.

1986

We’d walked this road for hours, jungle a handsbreath away. Axle breaking ruts filled with muddy water. Our situation was grim. We’d lost our packs two days ago. Ambushed. We were lucky to be alive… but we wouldn’t be much longer if we didn’t find drinkable water soon. Imagine dehydrating to death in the middle of a bloody rainforest!

‘Don’t think about it.’ Stephen said as he reached out to touch my shoulder.

I rolled my eyes. How did he know? How did he always know where my mind was going.

‘We found the road. There wouldn’t be roads without people. The jungle would take over too quickly.’ He paused, wiping his brow as the jungle broke into a clearing where three roads converged. ‘See, signs of civilization… literally.’

I looked at the little signs, bursting into tears as I realized what they were.

Name.

Date – hyphen – Date.

wc:150

Thank you once again goes to What Pegman Saw for taking us to the beautiful continent of Africa and giving us a glimpse of the land of Uganda and it’s people. If you’ve enjoyed this little story, morbid though it is, then please, come out and enjoy some others at: https://whatpegmansaw.com/blog/ . Just follow the prompt tag to the little blue frog… your adventure awaits.

 

 

The Atomic Clock

jenniferpendergast

C. Jennifer Pendergast

The rusted hulk was transported all the way from Terra Firma, decontaminated, and then mounted here. Humans still came and flocked around it, their children listening to the old stories.

‘We destroyed our world… This is the only thing that can save it.’ Mother explained.

‘But – but… It’s all rusted and doesn’t work. How can it save anything?’

‘It is a reminder to all of us who are left. Time heals all wounds, and only time will heal our world. Until then, we must live here, in this sphere and watch our world spin below.’ Mother choked on a tear.

Wc:100

 

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/03/01/3-march-2017/

“Crispy”

Lunch!

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

 

‘Catch it…Quick!’ She squealed.

He snatched up the grasshopper and held it, dangling between his fingers. ‘What do you want with this ugly thing?’

‘Just keep ‘hold of it and come on.’ She rushed him inside the building and up to their apartment. ‘Don’t let go of it.’

He stood between the kitchen area and the living room area of the dinky efficiency apartment, watching her grab a skillet, throw in some butter, and set the heat to high.

‘Seriously?’ He asked as he put two and two together.

She paused, lid at the ready. ‘Oh, yeah, tastes like chicken.’

Wc: 100

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/03/01/3-march-2017/

Inheritance?

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Image from Google Maps..

The old tenement seemed to shout “Stay Away!”

I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

This was my inheritance. This was my home.

I wanted to cry.

I remembered the grand days of youth. Days filled with laughter and the joys of playing stick-ball in the street. Days of making stick-houses on the ground and playing house with the other neighbors. Hot, sweaty evenings sitting on rusted chairs in the yard. Oh, those were the grand times.

Now, the years of neglect had taken it’s toll. The windows were now broken and missing. Though not from a stray ball. The front door was boarded over to keep out the ragamuffins and drug infested gangbangers. No, it was definitely not the dream house that my parents believed it to be anymore. I wondered, would I even be able to save any of it. Or, like with the vacant lot beside it, would it to fall to the wrecking ball.

WC: 157

 

This short story is written for “What Pegman Saw” and awesome weekly challenge that transports us to different locations all over the globe via Google Maps. This week, we visit St. Louis, Missouri, USA. If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more, or join in the fun, then join us out at: https://whatpegmansaw.com/blog/  and follow our Blue froggy friend.

 

Rebirth… (What Pegman Saw)

capture

Amazon River, google maps image.

She looked out the window of the small sea plane to the river beyond. So much water. She wasn’t quite sure she was on a river at all. Maybe it was just a large, dream-lake, and she could force herself to wake up from the nightmare.

Then, the large canoe floated beneath her window and stopped. She felt the plane rock a little as the Aboriginal in the front of the canoe grabbed onto the leg of the plane.

‘My God!’ Her mind screamed. ‘Were they going to to try to hold the plane back? Couldn’t this nightmare get any worse?’ She reached over and touched the canvas sack on the floor beside her. In the heat, it reeked and the smell caused her stomach to roll. It was a sickly sweet smell. The smell of death too long unburied.

The plane’s door opened…

A baby’s cry filled the cabin.

The Calm…

sky

C. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Dead silent it was, walking out to the car and leaving for work. Driving through a light rain with the knowledge of what was coming hanging heavier than the clouds. Radio playing some pop song from the ’80’s. Nerves wound tight.

Fast food breakfast. Still dark as a cave outside. Hail slamming against the glass windows, wind and rain blowing in the double set of doors. Sounds of crashes. Power jumping a growling roar to silence and back again. Like a war movie bombardment.

Fifteen minutes of pre-dawn hell.

Then calm.

The sun glitters behind powder puff clouds.

Then the warnings to take cover sound… after the storm!

 

wc: 109, forgive me 9 over, had to put in the last sentence since the sirens could have prevented so many injuries if sounded early. It’s not like they didn’t have a full 24 hours warning the storms were going to be bad. The National Weather Service declared that we were hit by straight line winds – Wind Shear. The damages though, are just as devastating as the five tornadoes that hit not 50 miles north of us in the Ohio valley.

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/03/01/3-march-2017/