So Bold, In Public

Photo by: Shivangi Singh

Photo by: Shivangi Singh

Tobias and his work crew were fairly typical blue-collar men. Rhianna was lovely and talented. So when they saw what Rhianna was doing on the balcony, in full view of everyone, the crew couldn’t help but comment.

“Oh…My…God, I’m in heaven,” said Tobias, staring up at Rhianna’s efforts on the balcony.

“Woohoo!” exclaimed Marco. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!”

“She’s doing it where anyone can see,” crowed Vince.

“Look at those looong lines,” moaned Jimmy.

“That curve!” cooed Marco.

“How does she do that? It’s incredible!”

“So bold!” said Tobias, impressed. “She’s gotta be using oils.”

“I gotta get me summa dat!”

“I want it!”

“Me first!”

“Show us more!” called Marco.

“Yeah, let us see ALL of it!”

Rhianna grinned down at the excited men. “You really like it, boys?”

“Yeah, give us the full view. Let’s see it all!” answered Vince.

“Okay!” laughed Rhianna, and she showed them.


“Told you she was bold!”

Tobias grinned admiringly and pointed at the canvas. “She painted a cityscape in all orange tints!”
Written for Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers:

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The Psyche Out

Photo by: Al Forbes

Photo by: Al Forbes

The Chalice of Novotrix had journeyed from the times of magic. Six hundred years had passed since the demon Novotrix had been trapped inside. With people rarely touching the cup, the demon couldn’t see through their eyes. It had no idea how the world had changed.

Fifteen-year old Philip found it in a curio shop and took it home.

“At last!” roared Novotrix from within the cramped cavern of “otherness.” He knew that when human blood entered the chalice, his murderous pleasures could return to the world.

“Young philip worships the dark arts,” grinned Novotrix. Looking through Philip’s eyes he saw that Philip preferred piercings depicting devils, and displayed a ghoulish tattoo. He wore a T-shirt from the “Bone Eaters Delight” concert, depicting demons consuming horrified people.

“Yes! He is a sorcerer,” growled Novotrix. “My return to the Human world is at hand! Entrails shall drape my flesh once more. The horrified screams of my victims shall thrill these ears again!”

He watched excitedly until Philip (Gut_Ripper887) began playing World of Warcraft.

Novotrix sagged a little. “Perhaps he will still drink blood?” he mused, hopefully. Then his black heart sank.

Philip filled the Chalice with Mountain Dew.
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction:

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The Terrible Odds

Photo by: C.E. Ayr

Photo by: C.E. Ayr

“Xander Montreau was a brilliant stuntman, you know,” said James Miller. The performer’s agent sniffed sadly.

Looking at the pedestrian bridge that crossed over the railroad tracks, Detective Art Zampesi said, “What happened?”

“He vowed to jump from the bridge onto the next train that passed,” explained Miller. “Easy for him.”

“What are the odds it would be a zoo transport train?”

“He should’ve been fine,” protested Miller. “It was loaded with small animals. Nothing heavier than 60lbs.”

“Sounds safe enough.”

“Sure,” said Miller. “But what are the odds he’d land in a car with the world’s only rabid Wombat?”
Written for the Firday Fictioneers:

Author’s Notes:
A human killed by a wombat isn’t too crazy an idea, especially if the human was stunned and unable to escape. Wombats are not cute and cuddly at all as adults.

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The Sick Engine

Photo by: Louise at Storytellers Abode

Photo by: Louise at Storytellers Abode

The Svenska Tours company boasted the fastest ferry boat in Europe. They claimed to control a miracle engine technology, though they denied using nuclear power. When the pride of the ferry fleet, the Svenska Stjarna limped home with engine trouble, it was cause for concern.

Valter, captain of the Svenska Angel, boarded the stricken ferry to see if he could help.

“Sick engine,” explained Captain Olle, leading the way to the engine compartment. “Eventually, we got her going well enough to limp home.”

“You need help with her?” asked Valter.

Olle opened the door to the engine room. “No, she just needs time.”

Valter stared in shock at what he saw there. “I’ve never seen such a thing!” he exclaimed.

The mermaid was astounding beautiful, though obviously not feeling well. Her fishy tail dipped into the water where it could propel the boat. She held her stomach painfully.

“I didn’t think mermaids could get sick!” stammered Valter.

Olle growled impatiently, “It’s my new cook’s fault. Mermaids should never have wasabi with their Sashimi!”
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers:

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Modern Bears

Photo by: Al Forbes

Photo by: Al Forbes

Barney the bear looked at little Bobo and realized there was a complication. “I realize we’ve slept together a few times, Betty, but it’s obvious Bobo isn’t my son.”

Betty sighed, “Yeah, I know but…”

“Shouldn’t he be with his real poppa?”

“Teddy? Pleeease! He drinks Kodiak beer all day. His bear-belly is unbearable.”

“I thought you liked Pierre a lot.”

“For a time I did. I just don’t want to Panda to his kinky ideas anymore.”


“Too old. He’s a bit grizzly, don’t you think?”

“Didn’t you and Paul date?”

“Seriously? We’re polar opposites.”

Barney smiled. “Well if you like me…”

“It’s more than like, honey. You’re smart, sweet, and you never bear a grudge. It’s obvious you’re the better bear for my little Bobo. There’s also one more thing. It’s a big one.”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” blushed Betty. “I like that you’re hung like a bear.”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction:

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Can’t Even Give It Away


The river tour was almost over when their guide, Singh, pointed to impressive ruins. “This was the castle of Prince Prakash in 1034 AD. He studied the secrets of time and space.”

“Ooh,” snickered Lydia. “Did he achieve Oneness?”

“No,” grinned Singh. “But he designed a working spaceship.”

“Right,” groaned Barry.

“He shared his invention with everyone. He made them promise to keep the secret away from foreigners forever. If we shared the secret – he warned – we’d lose our culture.”

“C’mon!” said Lydia.

“I don’t believe that,” said Singh.

“That’s better,” said Barry.

“I think we should share the secret!”

“Well it’s a nice story,” said Barry. The two Americans off-boarded quickly.

“I can prove it!” protested Singh.

“Sure you can,” said Barry. “C’mon Lydia. Let’s find some Pakora.”

Behind them, Singh shrugged. “No one ever believes.” He hovered his boat above the water on counter-gravity beams, and engaged the stardrive.
Written for “What Pegman saw:”

Author’s Notes: Pakora is deep fried vegetables from India.

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Processing Charges

Photo by: Sandra Crook

Photo by: Sandra Crook

“What’s this processing charge?” said Ryan to the electric company’s customer support.

“Things like printing and mailing your bill,” she said. “It costs money, you know.”

Fuming, Ryan refurbished the water wheel that ran his family’s old saw mill. He connected it to the power grid. Soon it made far more electricity than he used. By law, the electric company suddenly had to pay him for power!

He started sending them bills.

They sent Mr. Fuddleduddy to protest. He held out a bill to Ryan. “What’s this processing charge for $35?”

“You know,” smirked Ryan. “For printing and mailing your bill.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers:

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