Photo Copyright: Al Forbes

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–May 21st, 2017. Each week the host, Al Forbes, provides a picture prompt donated by himself or one of the other writers in the group. The challenge for each member of the group is to write an original story or poem with no more than 200 words, not including the title and inspired by the prompt. This week’s prompt was from Al Forbes himself.

To read the other stories written by group members, just click on the link below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box.

The link to the other stories this week is as follows:

Genre: Dystopian Fiction

Word Count: 200 Words


Chand and his Section Ten patrollers were now in a desolate land on the edge of their assigned territory. The single good thing about this area was the lack of mutants. There were no caves for miles, nowhere to hide.

Up ahead there was a stone wall. It seemed to have been part of a compound at one time, perhaps used during the Greatest War that ended about two hundred years before.

As they approached they saw words on the gate in the wall,  TRAITOR’S GATE. There were terrifying stories about people crammed into walled areas as punishment for doing even the slightest act considered as disobedient. Anyone trying to escape was shot on sight.

Before peace came, some mutants climbed the walls and killed captives before the guards could shoot the creatures. They were bloodthirsty and didn’t  think about getting out, only in.

When the war ended, there was insufficient medicine and caregivers to save many prisoners so they rapidly died. The bodies were burned to keep the ravenous mutants who roamed the area during the war and hid in bombed-out buildings from consuming the remains.These appalling places were deserted, falling to ruin as seemed fitting to all.

Note: An ominous feeling still hangs over the place even after two centuries. The patrollers, even though hardened, are reluctant to enter the area. Strange rumors circulate about continued unnatural occurrences even though the place is thought to have been deserted.




Photo Copyright: Sandra Crook

Here we are this week sitting together near a large columned building. We’ve gathered to discuss our original stories for the week. This is the Friday Fictioneers group. Our hostess for the gathering is the talented and gracious author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for each of us this week and every week is to write a story with no more than 100 words, not counting the title. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by Sandra Crook. Thanks, Sandra.

To read the other stories by group members, just click on the link given below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box.

The link for this week’s stories is as follows:

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words


Chand and fifty other Section Ten patrollers stared at the huge crumbling building, its walkway partly covered with pieces of broken masonry.

He thought it must be over two hundred years since the Greatest War. Who could keep count?

Soon they’d have to find a place to spend the night safe from mutants who preyed on wild animals, any lone human they found, or even their own wounded or dying.

Hardened patrollers parked their trucks on cleared parts of the walkway and set up a guard.

Howling started. It wasn’t wild animals. Ravenous, drooling mutants crept from deep caves.