Posted in Word Prompt

#1434

“Are they dancing?”
“Malfunctioning.” Brant muttered over his cigarette.
The two soldiers watched from behind the bushes. 
“Are these the last ones?”
“Should be. They’re robots, they can’t reproduce.”
The private charged up his laser gun. “Let’s go.”

#1434 didn’t understand.
The men and their lasers raced across the empty lot. #1434 was sure it felt something forming inside but what exactly escaped it’s wire body and central unit.
#1434 tapped a small collection of garbage cans. ‘Time to wake up’. The garbage cans, one piled on top of another, jerked it’s spindly arms.
#1434 had given life to #1435.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Word Count: 100
For
Friday Fictioneers

Posted in flash fiction, Word Prompt

Chairs

Photo from Pixabay

“I asked you to get the chairs out.” Lila knew that Charles would use every opportunity to exasperate her, especially when it came to her family.

“I did.” His lips curved into a smirk, only infuriating her more.

“How exactly do you expect anyone to sit in them?” She spit the words towards him like sharpened knives. Charles tapped his chin as he examined his chair placement.

“You didn’t specify what the chairs were to be used for. You just said get them out.” He gestured grandly. “They’re out … your highness.” The last words stung with a venom only her husband could perfect.

“You’re ridiculous.” Sharp pain shot through Lila’s palms where her nails were threatening to break skin. “This is ridiculous!”

“It is, isn’t it? I suppose that’s what you get.” 

The force of her slap sent him reeling to the side. He half expected his fingers to come away from the stinging imprint with a coating of fresh blood.

“You bitch! You want chairs! Here!” Charles channeled the rage spiraling through him as he shook the metal pergola. The polls swayed violently, shaking the chairs loose. All at once they came crashing down to the pavement.

Word Count: 199
For
Sunday Photo Fiction and RDP word of the day: Talk

Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers, Word Prompt

In The Name of Control

It is an act of happenstance that humans age. We were supposed to be the all supreme, controllers of our environment and all that means.

At least, that’s what this book says. Personally, I’ve never felt one bit in control of this life. Try telling your military commanders or your knuckleheaded children to just go with the flow. They laugh in your face and tell you to put your glasses back on so you can see reality. 

They’ll see one day. All these lies in the name of control will fall away. Someone will need glasses, it won’t be me.

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers AND the RDP word of the day: happenstance
2 for 1!
And Friday Fictioneers on Weds!