THE DAM

 

submerged pipe and hose--Dale Rogerson

Photo Copyright: Dale Rogerson

Here we are for another week. This week, we’re gathered high in the virtual mountains near a virtual dam. Our guide and hostess for this trip and gathering is the gracious and talented artist and author, Rocehlle Wisoff-Fields. We’re the Friday Fictioneers, and the challenge for each of us in the group is to write an original story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt provided for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by Dale Rogerson. Thanks, Dale.

To read the other stories from group members, just click on the link given below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box. The link for the other stories this week is as follows:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/10/28/30-october-2015/

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words

THE DAM by P.S. Joshi

We lived in a beautiful valley in the mountains. A clean stream flowed through it. Our ancestors lived there many years before us, and built our homes.

One day important men came and told us a dam was needed. They said they wanted our valley, and would give us other good land to live on and farm.

Our valley and village are now far under water. We are living in a new village built by us. The land is not good for farming.

Water from the dam is sent by pipes to the city.

No one can help us now.

friday-fictioneers

anniversary-1x

purple-flowers-may-2013

Written Act of Kindness Award

tour-through-blogland-21

THE HAPPY TIMES

 

boatpilxr_-antiqued

Copyright–Georgia Koch

Here we are gathered together again to discuss our original stories for the group, Friday Fictioneers. Today we’re gathered in the  virtual sunporch of a rural home near a small lake. Our hostess for this gathering is the gracious and talented author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for this group is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was supplied by Georgia Koch. Thanks Georgia.

To read the other stories from the members of this group, click on the small blue frog in the blue box. The link is as follows:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/01/21/16-january-2015/

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words

THE HAPPY TIMES By P.S. Joshi

I remember the day my ship, The Happy Times, was launched, it was a beautiful day. It had rained that morning. There was some water on the decks, but I, Captain John, and my first mate, Jerry, felt it would probably dry off by noon.

We cast off into the deeper water. It was calm so we decided at noon to prepare and eat our lunch.

When we happened to check below, we noticed a slight leak. Our plans abruptly changed, and we headed for port.

To others it was an old row boat. To us it was The Happy Times

friday-fictioneers

anniversary-1x

purple-flowers-may-2013

WITNESS

Water and swimmer

This is my contribution to Mondays Finish the Story for this week. Every Monday a new picture prompt is given along with the first sentence to be used for the story. The story is to be written with only 100-150 additional words. I’ve bolded the first sentence given with the picture prompt.The link to read all the other stories is as follows:

http://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2014/12/08/mondays-finish-the-story-december-8th-2014/

WITNESS By P.S. Joshi

Donning her fins and snorkel, she headed out into the deep water.

The bright sun was almost blinding, but shielding her eyes with one hand, she spotted the the coastguard vessel in the distance. Now all she had to do was wait to be picked up.

The vessel reached her, and she spotted the ladder. Taking off her fins and snorkel and throwing them aside, she climbed on-board.

Agent Davidson of the FBI greeted her. “Glad you made it Sandra. I understand you’re willing to testify. Have you had any warnings?”

Sandra, now dripping and suddenly shaking from the strain, said, “Yes, I had a call last night from a man only identifying himself as a friend. He warned me to keep quiet about what I saw.”

Davidson studied her face carefully. “Do you now intend to tell us everything? We’ll relocate you using the Witness Protection program.”

One of the Coast Guard members handed her a towel.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

SHE STILL LIVES

Sewer Lid

Copyright — Adam Ickes

This is my June story for Storybook Corner hosted by Adam Ickes. Each story is supposed to be from 300 to 500 words in length, or longer if thought necessary, and be inspired by the photo prompt provided that month by Adam.

http://adamickes.wordpress.com/2014/06/23/storybook-corner-prompt-june/

Genre: Horror Fiction

Word Count: 496

SHE STILL LIVES by P.S. Joshi

As old as oxygen, she now lived in the sewers of the city; there were no more caves. Caves were what she craved; cool and damp with the scent of the earth and the different animals that came. Eating them had filled her with strength and increased her power over life. Immortal, she wouldn’t have understood death.

Rats were plentiful, but she ate little these days and could feel her energy drain.  Sewage was gradually sickening her. She only knew she felt different. Was her life force leaving her after all these ages? What could she do? Survival once meant moving from caves to the sewer. Should she move out and seek other cover?

At times, other strange animals came, but didn’t stay long. They did something to the hard, hollow vines in her lair. Hiding was her protection against these animals. She hadn’t thought of them as prey; should she? They could be captured. Why not?

Raking her claws on the walls of her lair sharpened them. Saliva streamed down her chin as she thought of her new prey. This prey would take strength as did larger animals of long ago

Rob and Sid climbed down into the Summit Street sewer. A leak had been reported and they had to inspect for it. Sid was slender, Rob stocky. They started down the tunnel.

About one block along, Rob thought he heard footsteps, the splash of feet in the water. Something large moved off to one side. “Who would want to be down here besides us?” he asked in disgust. “It’s filthy and stinks.”

Sid had moved slightly ahead. He heard Rob’s last words, “…and stinks.” He heard no more. Turning, he glanced back. “What the hell?” Rob had disappeared. “Rob. Rob.” A patch of blood was smeared on the sewer wall, but nothing else.

Sid froze in place. That kind of fear hadn’t ripped though him since Afghanistan when he survived an attack by the Taliban. It all returned like a dreaded dream. His flight response struck in a rush and he started running until he spotted the next metal ladder. Grabbing for it, he climbed upward. In a surge of desperate strength he raised the heavy manhole cover which thumped onto the pavement. Boosting himself onto the night street, he laid still on the cool pavement, sucking in the night air. His heart banged so hard against his ribs it  threatened to burst through.

Within hours, a crime scene unit  searched the sewer. They found no body, just shredded clothing and blood.

It seemed she’d traveled a great distance from the city with the body of her latest prey balanced on her shoulders. At last she found a new cave, actually an old mine. Others like this one she carried were nearby in a small gathering of animal-made caves. She would now have all she needed to survive.

ogre-castle-words