The Dead Lands

FFFC 5.7.19

The Dead Lands

The stacks still spewed their poison into the air, the barrels of deadly poisons lay unbroken on the ground. A beleaguered Lady Earth had ripped away her own skin to be rid of the invading humans, leaving naught but scorched rock. The Dead Lands they were called. Continue reading “The Dead Lands”

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Meeting at the Bistro

FFFC 4.1.19

Meeting at the Bistro

She sat in the bistro looking out at the scene on the sidewalk, taking in the wild cacophony of sound and color that was the energy of this city. Her latte sat untouched, next to an empty notebook as she played the tourist. Solanj looked around, she would have preferred a more private setting for this meeting but the man claimed to have information about her sister’s attackers so she hadn’t tried too hard to change the location of the meet. Continue reading “Meeting at the Bistro”

The Road Ahead – Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #6

FFFC 3.25.19

For Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge # 6

While there are no definitive style or word limits, I suggest trying to keep your posts to under 300 words.

The Road Ahead – Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #6

There it was. The road that lead to Avonlea. Siofra gazed down at the long, long black line through the wastelands. Just last year the old road had blazed it’s trail through the prairie grasses. Lush and green, dotted with wildlife, it had been a beautiful drive. But that was before the Two Day War. Most of the world’s population had perished in two days, millions more in the aftermath. Then had come the nuclear winter and the holocaust summer. Savage wind storms had ripped through the world turning grasslands and forests to deserts. Continue reading “The Road Ahead – Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #6”

The Wheel of Tomorrow… Friday Fiction

Friday fictioneers 3.21.19

How long? How long had she been doing this? Sarah looked down from her lofty perch atop the Ferris Wheel. As the neon glare all but blocked out the stars, Sarah reminisced about a time when it was not so. So long ago when this had been flat farm land. Before the touch of modern buildings and streets it had been beautiful.

Sarah sighed, how she missed the trappings of ages long gone. Her short Katana blade, concealed by a long leather duster, was all that remained of her old life. Sometimes being an immortal just sucked.

Word count 97

For Friday Fictioneers

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

High Noon in Tombstone – CCC # 19

CCC 3.21.19

The full moon was high overhead as the trio began to slog their way up the hill. There at the summit, the final contest would take place. This was the big game for all the marbles, live or die. Sam checked his shotgun, sawed off to an illegal length, the scatter pattern was sure to take a man’s head clean off. Or at least incapacitate one until Kyna could come at them with her blessed katana sword. Guaranteed to lop a head clean off, she had done more than her share of killing. Buzz finished out their trio with a deadly combination of weighted aluminum baseball bat and sturdy flame thrower.

The three reached the turn off at high noon lane. The last of the zombie hoard would die here in Tombstone, at the O.K. corral.

word count 136

For Crimson’s Creative Challenge

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

Better Days

Friday fictioneers 3.15.19

Better Days

It still stood on the sidewalk, a melancholy reminder of better days. The days when Grampy taught her to play, the days before. Before the Bluebird Pandemic had swept across the world, leaving millions of blue-faced corpses in it’s wake. The doctors had died in the first wave. The plague wiped out most of the world population, lack of sanitation took still more. Then came the looters. They stripped everything including the ebony and ivory keys from her beloved piano. Ayrelan had made a small memorial garden on the top of the derelict instrument, a tribute to better days.

Word count 99

For Friday Fictioneers

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

Noemei

For the March Speculative Fiction Prompt 

March speculative fiction

Noemei

Noemei opened her eyes to her squalid surroundings. The stench of sweat and excrement mixed with something worse, the smell of fear. The air was ripe with it. Slavers! Her Island village had been raided. She’d been thrown in the hold of a ship with the other children and what adults were left after the massacre. She brusquely wiped a tear away. This would not do, her mother had told her to get away and get away she would. Continue reading “Noemei”