Friday Fictioneers

#FF — Idyll

Idyll Lines and curves, shadows and light plaid themselves along the water. It’s an idyll I settled into after selling my home: seven-hundred square feet; one pet allowed; in-unit washer and dryer; roomy basement storage sections; and no H.O.A. fee! I rise early, drink cuppajoe, and head out on my bicycle to CoffeeCat to sip,…

#FF — Family

Family I vaguely remember three hundred years ago. I am an idea, lying under Mother’s shade with my siblings. We sleep through Winter’s snow blanket. In Spring melt we, small brown pigs, wake to root in pungent humus. Breeze touches us all Summer until our greenery leaves in Autumn. Mother is ravaged by loggers; her…

#FF — Unshakable Bodhisattva

Unshakable Bodhisattva While Canadian soldiers were being sent abroad by their government in WWII to fight fascism, at home, agents were stealing babies from Indigenous families. Little Buffy was shipped south, to a white family in America, to have the Indian scrubbed from her. After double university degrees, Buffy returned to her reservation and was…

#FF — Answered (2nd one 4 this prompt)

Answered Louie shoves Willis from the ‘copter mid-desert, yelling, “Nobody likes a thief!” Willis follows Sol across the sky. As cool evening air washes over his sunburned body, he kneels and says a prayer for salvation, then falls into dreamless sleep. As Sol rises, Willis sets out again, climbing a large sunny dune. As he…

#FF — Cultivating the End

Cultivating the End I am insect to them, confined to tunnels. Eyeless, I crawl along smooth corridors, sensing where stone is cool, sniffing the air, listening for jangle of keys — and the cries of my children. I am queen of my species. Try as I might, I cannot stop my eggs from pouring forth….

#FF — Not a Bang

Not a Bang “Greetings. Please remain where you are,” it squeaks into my mind from atop its towering mechanical conveyance. Another wee being sits in an eye socket. Three others stand on the collar area, miming universal symbols of three wise [___.] The vehicle’s mouth is uncommitted except for a wisp of upturn. My lizard…

#FF — Into the Wild

Into the Wild “Your tea, Madame,” James announces, setting the usual tray of the usual things in the usual place. There is comfort in routine. Yvette tries to convince herself; but today, her mantra’s unsuccessful. “James, get the Bentley ready, and put the top down.” She pulls a dust-dulled plastic shroud from the flowered chiffon…