Mysterious Protest


Caleb assumed it was a prank, a solitary protest erected in defiance of an unjust system. The town he’d just moved into was rural, but every home looked modern enough for running water and sewage.

“Who owns that land on Duneview?” he asked a police officer he encountered one morning at a diner. “Where Hunt Drive ends?” It was a residential area, but there were no nearby houses.


“So you don’t know who erected the double-decker?”

“The what?” The officer then excused himself and left.

Caleb finished his meal, wondering how to find an answer to this minor mystery.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.

Unusual Delivery

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

This was always the most unusual delivery on Teddy’s route.

The outdoor firewood rack at the side of the house was a standard eight by six feet, yet an area had been cleared in the middle of the rack’s bottom for a double-paned basement window. In previous years, Teddy assumed this design was intended to allow light into a finished basement room. After this year’s delivery, he had to satisfy his curiosity.

After filling the rack, Teddy knelt down outside the window, covered on the inside by only a short valance along its upper third. He looked inside… and laughed.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.

Travelling Companion


“Amazing, eh?”

Stan knew he needed to respond. He’d avoided attention the last 29 hours, and if he could maintain the deceit through the remaining ninety minutes on this ferry, he’d be free. “First time I’ve taken this tour,” he said. “Yeah, the view’s impressive.”

“Harold Misner.” Harold extended his hand, which Stan shook. “From Peoria, family holiday. What brings you here?”

Warrants in three countries. “Stan, from Albany.” He’d visited his brother there several times.

A woman called to Harold, who excused himself. Stan looked out over the waters, wondering how best to deal with this new travelling companion.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.

Visual Aid

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

They don’t get it, Jenkins realized. The heist required precise and coordinated actions, but the guys he’d found clearly didn’t understand.

Jenkins needed a visual aid, and found inspiration on seeing the abandoned supplies next to a daycare center’s dumpster.

He drew three overlapping circles on construction paper representing the adjoining buildings. The number 4 signified the on-duty guards in the laboratory, with the yellow truck and Lego man at the center being the fake emergency crew creating the distraction. Surveillance cameras were located with small Lego pieces.

Using a Santa pencil as a pointer for emphasis seemed oddly appropriate.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.


PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

The mission was already four months behind schedule, further delays inevitable. Still, enthusiasm among the project team remained high. A successful launch would ensure the mission would receive a full chapter in history books for a century.

Alonso’s role was small, a calibration of a stabilization gyroscope. His advanced degrees weren’t needed ; a graduate student could’ve performed the task as easily and reliably. Yet his position wouldn’t be identified on the project team, and if he exaggerated his role for the liftoff among his family nobody would correct him.

Yes, his job was boring. No, he didn’t care.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Mind if I sit, Dad?”

The old man nodded without looking up from his lemonade. By sending his son rather than either daughter, the family was sending a message. “I’m not ready,” he muttered.

The son sat at the other end of the small rectangular diner table. Condiments were arranged at that end as if the son were about to have a meal of ketchup, salt, and pepper. “Time to come home,” he said.

“I just ordered dinner.”

“We’ll do carry-out.”

“I’ll never sign.” The old man looked up. “Never.”

“No documents tonight, Dad. But we need you home.”

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.

The Ticket


The public square was cordoned Monday, the carousel erected the following day, operational by mid-week. On Thursday, Audrey decided to visit the impromptu amusement.

She’d witnessed the carousel’s construction while riding the metro every morning to her well-paying but draining job. Leaving for an early lunch break, she walked the block towards the square.

Audrey heard music as she passed the concrete barriers for the metro. Funiculì, Funiculà. Her favorite childhood song.

“Greetings.” Audrey hadn’t seen the speaker, yet somehow knew she was being addressed. She turned and saw a man in a motely suit, smiling and bearing a ticket.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.

Practice with Care


Phase shifting is like dynamite — helpful when used properly, deadly if misused.

Misjudgments are frequent among newbies. Passing through an object in front of you without also passing through the ground underneath takes concentration. Even the best-trained shifters make mistakes once they begin practicing in the field.

Like this guy. Late on his courier run, he phased through a concrete barricade with ease. But when he saw the worker in his path he phased again, panicking the worker. The courier phased in too soon, bike tripping over a cable.

The residual energy in the bike hurled it into the building.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest.

First Ride


“Didn’t know they made motorcycles in 1914,” Henrietta said, hoping to get the gaunt man’s attention in front of the exhibit.

“Oh yes,” he replied. “Owned one myself.”

“You collect antiques?” He was becoming more interesting than Henrietta had hoped.

“No. I was a boy at the time. I remember my first ride, down a dirt trail near my family’s lakeside cabin. I thought if man could build such a wonderful machine, there was no limit to what we could achieve.”

“That’s… impossible.” He looked no older than thirty.

“Not at all,” he replied, turning to Henrietta with red eyes.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest.



“Lateral stabilizers.” Detective Jenkins squatted in front of the discarded parts. “Definitely from a K-47. I can call in the serial numbers, but if they aren’t from the Altarax droid I’ll eat them for lunch.”

Her rookie partner bit his lip. “But the AI in K-47s is too advanced to be this careless. If the droid knows we’re after it, why leave such a large breadcrumb?”

“Because it wanted us to know it had been here.” Jenkins stood and brushed hair from her face. “It wants us to follow its trail. We’re being led.”

“A trap?”

Jenkins smirked. “An invitation.”

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest.