Tag: Friday Fictioneers
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THE LAMPLIGHTER
He struggled to push the cart through the thick snow and cursed winter, the short days and the long nights. He leaned his ladder against a lamppost and climbed. The gas ignited and a shivering orange glow lit the white scene. White and red. The body lay under a nearby tree. He scared a fox…
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JUST BECAUSE I’M PARANOID…
It’s just a tree. Nature at it’s most extraordinary. Why then does it look so menacing? Like an encircling web, or a tangled prison. Does it say more about my own character that I vilify it in this way? Is it symbolic of my own life? Am I trapped? Frustrated? Scared? My amble through the…
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HE WAITED SILENTLY
The way was clear, the route less so. They could all picture it. The blue skies, the light glinting on the water, the sand between their toes. And they had been told this was the way, so they followed. Many were soon lost, or sacrificed, or dismissed. The leaders had no time for weakness or…
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OPEN DOOR
It always followed the same pattern. Middle of the night. Panicked phone call. Incoherent story. She always ended up agreeing to go over. This is different. Door wide open. Probably just a neighbour didn’t close it right. Out of habit she checks the mailbox. Empty. Up the stairs, lit by flickering halogen. Along the corridor.…
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DEAD ROSES
Dead roses in winter, withered and defeated. The Grand Armée reduced to an icy hell. The villages they entered had nothing to offer. They had stripped them bare of what little they had on their way to Moscow. Starving, frost-bitten and dog-tired, he stumbled on. To drop now meant certain death. No comrade would burden…
Iain Kelly 