Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at Addicted to Purple
28th August, 2015
Photo Prompt – ©Claire Fuller
They led her to the Chamber. Head shaved, hands and feet bound in chains, eyes blank.
The Councillor read aloud.
Your soul dies. A little.
And then some.
Your soul is fully dead
Mutant# 4789. Is no more.
The crowd watched in silence as he administered the injection.
She remembered sandy beaches, seashells. Mangoes in summer. Mom’s gentle hand on her feverish forehead. Her best friend’s reassuring smiles.
Before the nightmares.
Before he turned everything good, nice into dirty, ugly.
She simply stopped breathing.
Her eyes didn’t flicker.
Word Count: 100
His Mother always told him, “Son, you are special. Believe it.”
In a world that worshipped perfect bodies, he fought battles everyday.
Against social ridicule, isolation, depression.
He bowed as the curtain fell to deafening applause.
He had won.
Grammar Ghoul Press – Shapeshifting 13 Challenge #3
Word Limit: 39
Some Bosses are fickle
It’s like too much salt in your pickle
Others are bullies
It’s like hot summers and turtle-neck woollies
Some Peers are vultures
It’s like stale yoghurt with cultures
Others crave your shiny shoes
It’s like sipping cocktails with cheap brews
Some Enablers are befuddled Ablers
It’s like pins missing from staplers
Others are cud-chewing cattle
It’s like a gum-stuck-to-shoe battle
Thus Regular Guileless Employees
Who dream of exotic vacations in Hawaii
Transform into Alien Mutants
That yearn for nothing but intoxicating coolants