Photo Copyright: Al Forbes

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–June 18th, 2017. Each week the host, Al Forbes, provides a picture prompt taken by him or sent in by one of the participants in the group of writers. 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 taken by Al himself. Thanks, Al.

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: Fantasy Fiction

Word Count: 200 Words


Many years ago, there was a bad king in the small kingdom of Los Casa. He was an ignorant tyrant put on the throne by poor people who thought he’d better their unfortunate lives.

The real power behind the throne was a wise though evil adviser. He made sure the king kept enough of his promises to his subjects to keep them happy. These promises were damaging for the kingdom but most good subjects felt helpless.

One day a message was written on the castle wall, THE EAGLE COMES.

“Who could have written it?” asked the ineffective local sheriff.

This was the first of many such messages. The king and adviser became frightened. Both were bullies and cowards.

One night all outer clothing was stolen from the castle leaving the king and adviser in their undies. They left the castle in shame and never returned.

Rico Estaban, twelve years old said to the other children, “We’ve done a good night’s work with the assistance of my father the palace cook and uncle the palace groom. Together we’ve formed the Society of the Eagle. What some foolish, gullible adults couldn’t manage we have.

A wiser and kinder ruler was chosen.


















Chariot and rider.

Copyright — Alastair Forbes

This is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction for February 8, 2015. Every Sunday a new picture prompt is supplied by Alastair Forbes, the host. The weekly challenge is to write an original story with no more than 200 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. Be sure to click on the little blue frog in the blue box to read all the other stories.

The link for all other stories is as follows:

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 194 Words


She stood straight and determined in the chariot, holding the reins in a firm grip, giving forth an air of confidence. It was about A.D. 61. This was the great and powerful Boudicca, woman warrior and leader, Celtic queen of the Iceni tribe, widow of the Celtic king Prasutagus of East Anglia. She was filled with righteous anger, a determination to fight back.

Upon the death of her husband, their kingdom had been unjustly annexed by the Roman Empire under Nero, as if conquered. She had been stripped and beaten, and her daughters raped. Now she was leading her people and the Trinovantes, who joined them, on a revolt, an attack on the Roman-held city of Camulodunum (now Colchester), and capital of Roman Britain. After that, they would drive on to Londinium (now London) and Verulamium (now St. Albans), destroying both cities with a death toll in the thousands.

She was finally defeated by the Roman army led by Paulinus.

It isn’t known for sure whether she was killed, poisoned herself to avoid capture, or died from illness. A statue exists in her memory, while Emperor Nero’s name lives on in infamy

Sunday Photo Fiction Image






Copyright–Bjorn Rudberg

 This is my story for Friday Fictioneers this week. This is a weekly challenge to write a story in 100 words with a beginning, middle, and end. It’s supposed to follow the picture prompt given for the week. The host for the challenge is the gracious and talented author, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week the picture is a photo supplied by Bjorn Rudberg. Thanks, Bjorn.

Genre: Fantasy Fiction

THE CHOICE by P.S. Joshi

There was once a powerful king who had a beautiful but shy daughter of marriageable age. He decided to hold a dance so that she could meet eligible young men of royal blood.

The night of the dance there was a quartet of musicians who had been hired to play. Also,”married” couples had been invited. The king was no fool.

When the dance ended, the king asked his daughter if she had chosen a husband.

“Yes,” she said. “I have chosen the mandolin player.”

“Don’t fear, sire,” he said. “I am actually Prince Rudolph of the Kingdom of Orchestria.