This 99 word story is for the Friday Fictioneers photo prompt.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Rob showed his brother Joe the new production line.
“We’re all ready. First batch goes out today.”
“Two more fishing boats went down in the night, I heard,” Joe said.
“They found the wreckage this morning. No bodies. If these traps don’t catch them, I don’t know what will.”
Joe fingered the mesh. “You sure this will hold them?”
Rob shrugged. “It’s the toughest on the market…” His voice trailed away.
Joe nodded. “If it works, you’ll be a hero.”
Rob gave him a wry grin. “And if it doesn’t, there won’t be anybody left around here to care.”
This is a photo I used the other day and the more I look at it the creepier it gets. I’m using it to illustrate a 99 word self-indulgence—my treat for finishing the first round of edits for the last volume of The Pathfinders.
Nobody believed the augurs. The ravens flocked and wheeled but eventually flew with their steady, powerful wing beats to a place of safety. Every bird in the city followed in their wake. Every stray cat and every fox slunk into the green refuge beyond the city borders.
Not even when the crimson mouths smiled across the night sky did the people look up from their partying or their solid sleep. No one noticed the blackness that was not cloud boiling up from horizon to horizon. Only when the lips parted and spewed white fiery death did the laughter stop.
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