“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.

Petrified Ambition

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Thirty years ago the field had been a dense forest of poplar, birch, pine, and fir. A wealthy industrialist bought the land and had it clear-cut to build a summer home, yet as the last remaining trees were being uprooted he lost the property in a bitter divorce.

Two stumps were left among the acre of wildgrass. Their tops were smooth from the saw’s blade, the bark on their sides cracking and peeling off like scabs from a wound.

The tallest objects remaining in the abandoned field, the two lifeless remnants served as tombstones to a petrified ambition.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.

No Business


“Those tables look fine,” Sheila said. The outdoor furniture she pointed to did indeed look undisturbed.

“We don’t know how much damage the storm caused,” Roland explained. “Power returned an hour ago but might not stay on. We can’t risk being open.”

“You don’t understand.” Sheila balled fists into her hips. “The client asked to meet here, right here, at 10. You’re interfering with my business!”

Roland couldn’t contain his frustration, waving towards the uprooted trees. “Call your damn client, change your plans. I have bigger concerns than your damn meeting!”

Shelia turned away. “This is your problem, not mine!”

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.

Walking Memory

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

“You sure you remember?”

“Don’t worry, Marcy,” Harlan called ahead to his granddaughter as he slalomed the uneven terrain of the forested ravine. “Can’t tell you exactly where it is, but I’ve walked this path enough times that my legs know the way.”

Marcy stopped, turned to him. “So we keep walking until your legs figure out where to go?”

Harlan pointed ahead. “There.”

She looked where he pointed. The moss-covered roof of a small cabin was barely visible. “OK,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean what you’re looking for is there.”

The old man smiled. “Oh it’ll be there.”

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash-fiction contest. One picture, 100 words.

The Next Order

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“Surprised you’re still open,” the customer said after ordering the hamburger combo meal.

“For two months after the Orb appeared we weren’t,” replied the middle-aged woman as she wrote on an order pad. “But when it became evident there wasn’t any life there and was harmless, my husband sued to reopen. We gotta right to live, you know.”

The customer looked to his right. The Orb’s rubbery edge was visible beyond the diner’s wall. “And you’re not worried? Or curious how it got here?”

She ripped the order sheet from the pad. “All I care about is the next order.”

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest that most weeks is too much damn fun to pass up.

A Brief Visit


After arguing with his parents again, Morton needed time away from their home. He drove to the state park where the 21-year-old often found peace.

His loose clothing dampened with summer sweat as he walked a wide path, built as a carriage trail for the wealthy. Morton took a turnoff leading to a suspension bridge.

He stopped half-way across the bridge and leaned his forearms against the coiled metal railing. A winged insect, seen only in summer’s heat, landed nearby.

“What’s up?” Morton asked. The insect flew away.

Morton turned from the bridge, beginning the journey back to his parents.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest.


PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Oleg wanted to remain in his bunk as the ship approached Ellis Island. This wasn’t the first time he’d arrived in the US through this port. Yet he knew not joining the ship’s excited occupants would arouse unwanted suspicion.

He stood on the deck apart from the crowd at the rails, staring towards shore through the dim light of a cloudy dawn.

“Mama!” a pointing child cried. “The statue!”

Oleg smiled. Later today, he’d be processed with forged papers. Once he cleared customs with the other immigrants, he could then deliver the package he’d been paid so well to convey.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest.


PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Three minutes. Swanson estimated the murderer would lose himself in that time.

The city’s Asian street market was a clot of shoppers and vendors. If the murderer slid down an arterial street, he’d escape.

The sidewalks were less crowded and navigable, but Swanson knew the murderer would likely avoid them. The detective began hustling down the sidewalk, eyes scanning the crowd, but stopped on noticing the fire escapes above him. He could view the entire crowd from there and locate his target. Swanson pushed past a man talking on a mobile phone and raced up a flight of concrete steps.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest

The Stowaway


Ted needed to get to California. With limited cash and no car, that was going to be difficult for the homeless veteran.

One of his few assets was an extensive knowledge of the modular home industry, the location of manufacturers and distribution points. He also had the guile to get past their security.

The route from Michigan wasn’t always direct and he was almost caught a few times. He only avoided jail in Oklahoma because the tractor driver was also a veteran — “he’s my assistant.”

By hiding in homes headed southwest, Ted made his gradual way to the west coast.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest

New Strategy, Same Result

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

So much for finally beating Musgave at Stratogem.

After dividing his blue tokens into two camps I stopped the attack of my red tokens, letting them gather strength over several turns. Being too aggressive was a mistake I wasn’t going to repeat.

Musgave must have sensed my new approach, and used it against me.

When individual blue tokens began appearing in my sea of red, I attacked them before they could assemble. As I launched these defensive attacks, he slyly repositioned both his camps.

Despite being outnumbered, he had regained the strategic advantage. His eventual victory was assured.


Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest.