Photo: © Al Forbes 2014

 

They had originally asked me to speak at his funeral. I politely declined to attend, saying it would be too emotional for me.

I would have liked to have been there, to be part of the shared grieving process. After all, he’d been my mentor and was such an inspiration for me. If only I’d been able to reach the heights of his success and popularity.

He died on his birthday – a real Shakespearean tragedy, you might say. As a Knight of the West End theatre, I think he would have appreciated the irony.

I often imagine him opening his gift. The Newton’s Cradle he’d always wanted. Like the big kid he was, he probably would have pulled on one of the metal balls straight away, closing the mercury switch that detonated the explosive device.

I knew he would never read the goodbye note I attached to it, telling him how much I really hated his ‘niceness’. How behind my smile, I was just waiting for a chance to pay him back for his mystifying success. And now it was my turn for the limelight after waiting for so long. But I just wanted that note to be there with him, when he went ‘out’. Exit, stage left.

The real irony is, that they managed to identify my signature from two fragments of paper.

During the trial, I got the biggest headlines of my career. But what use is it to me now, stuck on the Inside. I call it rough justice.

I hear they’ve done a wonderful obituary for him on BBC1. Life just isn’t fair.

 

This story is written for Sunday Photo Fiction: August 31, 2014, hosted by Al Forbes.

For more details, click the logo.

 

To view other entries in this challenge, click on the blue frog.

 Photo: © Al Forbes 2014

 

“Police has asked me to say a few words.

Before I do, I don’t see why I’m taking blame for it. It’s really all our Derek’s fault.

Derek has never been brightest star in galaxy. He knows it. Even Sheila, his Mam knows it, but she won’t hear a word against him. Because, what he lacks in brains, she says, he makes up for in ‘good-natured enthusiasm’.

Fair dues, Derek would do a favour for anybody. He always does as he’s told, and was hardest working Class V Junior Technician on starship Prometheus. They said so. But I doubt he’ll keep his job after this.

I mean, when you’re told to flush a baby Alien creature out of airlock, surely there must be a good reason for it. But no! Too much for him to bear, the soft lad. Now he’s really done it this time.

He secretly brings that creature back home in a glass bottle that wasn’t fit for purpose. I thought it was one of those lava lamps at first. More fool me!

Then Sheila starts screaming! Ahhhhh, she says, Ahhhhhhh! It starts moving and wriggling, it does. Quick as a flash I’ve took it to bathroom and flushed it down WC. I thought that was the end of it. But then Derek finds out and says we have to tell somebody. 

Now they’re calling it an environmental hazard. Apparently, if you live anywhere near Mansfield, you’ve got to be very careful when you, you know, go!

So if you’ve got one of these Alien things in your plumbing. Don’t try to tackle it yourself, leave it to the experts. Let Coppers handle it. Thank you!”

 

This story was prompted by Sunday Photo Fiction, August 24th 2014, hosted by Al Forbes.

For more details, click the logo.

To read the other stories in this challenge, click the Blue Frog!

 Photo: © Al Forbes 2014

 

Jimbo wasn’t a very happy boat. In fact most of the time, he felt sad.

He didn’t like being so little. He was jealous of the bigger boats. They got all the fame and attention. Even the ones that sank. Especially the ones that sank! But not poor Jimbo. He had been overturned many times, and no one thought to make a film about it.

This weekend, was the last straw! All Jimbo heard about, was people talking about the big ships that sailed over to Normandy, seventy years ago. How they, even at risk to themselves, carried the brave men that freed a continent, and saved the world. The best that Jimbo ever got to do, was get rowed up and down a safe, man-made lake. Big deal!

But then Jimbo overheard something that completely turned him around. He heard about the bravery of lots of little boats four years before Normandy. They went over to France and rescued a battered army, that lived to fight another day. So, if it wasn’t for the little boats, the big boats couldn’t have done their thing.

Jimbo realised that because of the brave boats, big and small, people were free to row their boats and paddle their own canoes. Or just mess about on the water.

And then he didn’t feel sad any more.

 

This story is intended as a tribute to all those who risked their lives, to fight for the freedom we enjoy today. Their sacrifice is not forgotten.

 

The picture prompt is from Sunday Photo Fiction: June 8th 2014, hosted by Al Forbes.

Click the logo for more details.

To read the other stories written on this prompt, click the blue frog.