Friday Fictioneers — Dreams & Inventions

silo-has-come

Often my mind returns to those fields where we lay gazing at the sky, sharing our dreams. Why couldn’t you have stayed with me and lived the simple life, tilling the soil, living in harmony with nature?

Instead, you became a scientist employed at a Government research facility, where you invented a device to regulate abnormal cell growth in the human body and cure all forms of cancer.

Terrorists modified the device for war but neither side won.

Us survivors live underground, unable to endure sunlight upon our mutated forms. We live off worms and dream of a time machine.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo prompt: image © Marie Gail Stratford

Friday Fictioneers — When Bambi’s Mother Died

faucet-21-224x3001

‘That boy of yours is a regular faucet. Tell him to man himself up.’

‘He’s your boy, too.’

‘No, he’s a cry baby. He can’t be mine.’

‘Are you accusing me of having slept around?’

‘Just shut him up, will you?’

‘I asked you a question.’

‘Be a good girl. Make me a cup of tea.’

‘You’re so much your father’s son.’

‘I just want some quiet.’

‘And a repressed son, who keeps his emotions under wrap.’

‘A thirty-year-old crying over Disney movies?’

‘Sensitivity is good.’

‘Not if you drown in your own tears.’

‘Sadly, your tap jammed years ago.’

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo Prompt: image © Madison Woods

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