Seventeenth Friday Flash: Where do tigers go when they retire?

Tiger by Emily, age 10 Image Source

12th August 2011
Joey Windercombe (age 12)
Class: 8E
Teacher: Miss Beckett

It was all too exciting. My first visit to the circus, I so wanted to see the tigers. They’re so fearsome, so awesome. Thomas says you can train a tiger so you can ride it like a horse. I don’t believe him. Thomas tells a lot of lies. He once said if you eat apple seeds an apple tree will grow out of your belly button. I checked my belly button all the time for a week until my older brother told me: “Stop being a knob. Don’t believe everything people tell you.” The next day I called Thomas a knob head. It sounded cool at the time. He wasn’t impressed. We fought and both got into trouble.

I still have bruises, but anyway back to the tigers. Thomas’s theory is just stupid, tigers are wild beasts. They would never allow you to ride on their back. They would eat you first!

Wow, I can blabber on! To the circus we go. I sat with my dad near the front. It was musty and smelt funny. Dad said it smelt like mom’s cooking. I agreed, but it was unfair, mom wasn’t there to defend herself. Dad has had a lot of bad things to say about her since she left on that long holiday with her boss. I wonder when she is coming back. I miss her.

But I had popcorn so it was all good. Then the tigers came. It was quite a disappointment! They were both very old. They looked bored. I’m going to write to the ringmaster. They should be in a tiger retirement home or something.

It looked like it was going to be a bust, but then the clowns came. I thought they would be lame, but they weren’t. They were frigging awesome! You like my new word? The clowns taught me that one. I learnt a whole bunch from them.

Then a bloody brilliant thing happened. They were one clown short, and they were looking for volunteers. There were many kids wanting the job. My dad waved a 20 in the air. I was chosen. Best money ever spent. They even let me drive!

Me and seven clowns in a clown car. We whizzed around. Froyo said I was the best damn driver in the whole stinking universe.

It was all going well until Zappo one of the other clowns sneezed. It was so loud I got a fright and smashed into a barrier.

There were a lot of groans and complaints. It was also where I learned all the cool new words. There are some very special ones I’m keeping until later. Sprinkles, the only really creepy clown called me a little dirt bag.

I was a little upset by this. Froyo the head clown was too. He punched Sprinkles right on his big red nose. The crowd roared with laughter. The other clowns joined in. Pies, overgrown shoes and all sorts were flying everywhere. It was scary, but damn awesome. My dad pulled me to safety. Next to Foryo, he’s my favourite hero.

In a nutshell I thought it was the best damn frigging show I ever saw.

(6½/10)

(Very imaginative Joey, but your language was awful! See me after class.) – Miss Beckett.

Sixteenth Friday Flash: Desolation

*Hi all. Still laptopless, but will hopefully get a chance to read through some of your #fridayflashes this week. This story is a follow up to my 12th Friday Flash: Endless War.


Rations were low, but still Amy was reluctant to leave the barracks. It had been a week since her comrades had all been killed. She was possibly the last person alive in the area, possibly the planet. She checked her kitty power suit's battery level. It was on full. And the supplies kit she had packed a couple of days before was still all ready. She sighed. There was nothing left for it. She had to venture outside again.

At least it was spring outside. She could walk with her visor up and her air vents open. Not feeling like controlling the suit manually she placed the suit on auto. It trudged on steadily toward her destination: a research station in the mountains that may or may not be destroyed. Worst case scenario she could top up her supplies. That's if there were any.

Town after demolished town went by. There was no sign of survivors. Most taken out with germ warfare. Amy tried not to think about all the suffering. Tried not to feel guilty for being immune to the germs, but it was to no avail. The first night she cried herself to sleep. Something she hadn't done since she had been drafted. It felt good to let it all out.

By the third day none of the horrible sites bothered her. She had been in the war. She had seen worse. It must have been the week of sleeping and not doing much at all. It had softened her up. With new found determination she hurried her pace.

The day came. It was just after seven am. The air was a bit chilly, but smelt fresh and clean for a change. Massive steel doors loomed up in front of her. She banged on them with her armoured fist. The sound seemed to echo deep into the mountain.

No answer.

More banging.

Amy's hopes were disappearing. She took a few places back and got her energy weapon ready to fire. Just as she was about to pull the trigger and blast a hole, the door opened and a head popped out.

“No wait!” shouted the newcomer.

“Friend or foe?

The man walked out. He seemed to be genetically modified like Amy, but unlike her mix with cat genes he seemed to be mixed with a bird of some kind. His nose was long and his eyes bulbous. He put his hands up to show he had no weapons. “Foe, but I was a medic in the war. And I managed to hide in here when things got nasty. I'm harmless I swear.”

“Are you on your own?” asked Amy, her weapon still raised.

There was some hesitation and his eyes shifted a little side to side. He was lying, Amy knew it. She heard some rustling behind her. She dropped and turned to the source of the noise. It was another person. She was holding a gun. Amy blasted away. The would be ambusher dead within an instant.

She heard laughing behind her. “Almost had you there, but no worries, I didn’t like her anyway. And by the look of you, you will be more trouble than it’s worth so I will blast you and take your fancy suit. Always wanted one…”

Before Amy could react the bird man’s head was blown clean off. Amy turned away from the gruesome sight. Standing before her was a man that looked very familiar.

Amy got up. “Sergeant Whiskers?” She thought they were all dead.

The man smiled. “The one and the same.”

“But you’re different?”

“That’s because I’m the original, the template so to speak.”

Amy could see it now. He was like her Sergeant Whiskers but older. “Wow!”

“Yup, the rumours aren’t true. I’m alive and well.” His armoured suit was battered but very well maintained. “Ready to join my squad and help me finish off the stragglers?”

Amy thought about the alternatives. “Yes, sir!”






.

Fifteenth Friday Flash: Santos Returns

*Apologies that my #fridayflash is late this week. My laptop decided to die on me. Borrowing my brother's to post this. This is a follow up to Gorilla Pequeno it doesn't seem to have the same punch, but treating it as a bridge to a more exciting Santos tale I will be working on soon. (You know at the end of a movie where they sometimes have a little write up on what the characters are doing now. Think of it as one of those)


Life was hard for Santos, no matter how he explained his jaunt as a strip club performer his wife didn't believe him. He even got the night club owner to phone her, but she dismissed it, saying it was one of his friends or a hired actor. He soon realized she would find an excuse not to believe him no matter what he said, and it didn’t take him long to find out why; she had been having an affair with the flamboyant lion tamer.

Having had enough he unhooked their trailer home and took the truck; leaving the carnival for good. Not one to dwell on his misfortune he set out to find a new job. Being small of stature everyone was kind to him, but all said they weren't hiring or they had nothing that would suit his skills.

Just when he thought he would have to swallow his pride and return to stripping he got an unexpected phone call. It was a man named Winston T. Ford. He was a talent agent and he wanted to represent Santos. Unknown to Santos he had become an internet star. A video of him taken by a woman in the strip club had gone viral. It had over fifty million hits.

His first gig was to advertise for an eat healthy campaign. Santos jumped at the chance.

The commercial was an instant hit and within days he was a household name. Billboards with his image were everywhere. Youngsters worldwide were copying his jig. It became to be known as the Banana Dance. And whenever he was spotted in public he was asked to perform the dance. At first he was more than happy to oblige, but it soon got too much for him and restricted it to autographs when he had a chance.

Life was good until his wife filed for divorce, demanding half of his assets and future profits. It stressed Santos no end, but Winston soon got him calmed down and said he would handle it. And handle it he did. A ruthless divorce lawyer was hired and it didn't take her long to prove that Santos' wife had been having an affair. In the end his now ex-wife settled out of court for a vastly reduced maintenance plan. In addition in a separate case Santos was granted sole custody of his daughter after it was proved his ex-wife had an unstable lifestyle.

Life was all roses again, but for how long?

General Update

Hi all,

Just wanted to let everyone know how things are going. Spoke with my publisher yesterday. The Red Stone will be available on Kindle soon. In the meantime you can still get the paperback versions from your favourite online retailer and the Kindle version of Zoolin Vale and the Chalice of Ringtar from Amazon for only $3.44/£2.14. (Free first chapter sample)

Other than that have been working on an Urban Fantasy. About 51k in. I had to reread my progress so far to catch up on where the story was. Finished up yesterday and hope to have the first draft finished in the next two months or so.

You can find reviews for the books in the links section on the right hand side.

Best places to find my books.

The Red Stone: Amazon The Book Depository Exclusive Books Goodreads

Zoolin Vale and the Chalice of Ringtar: Amazon The Book Depository Exclusive Books Goodreads

How have things been progressing by you?

Fourteenth Friday Flash: Frankie Goes to Tripoli

Frankie had had enough. Everyday it was the same crap over and over again. The media couldn't seem to go a minute without mentioning it. Phone hacking this, phone hacking that. Frankie just wanted them to grow up. It wasn't the first time someone had done something devious to get ahead and certainly wouldn't be the last. To put it in a nutshell humanity was pissing Frankie off.

That's why he liked being an Orc. If an Orc had a problem with another Orc he would just punch the bugger out. Normally out stone cold. And if it happened to him, he more than likely deserved it.

But what could he do? The people involved had been arrested, companies were ruined and jobs were lost. Causing them more harm seemed excessive. Plus reasoning with the media was impossible and would most probably make it worse if it was.

That's when he decided he would make his own news. A story so large it would get everyone's attention. Yeah, that's right. He was going invade Libya. He was going to do what humanity didn't have the balls to do. Utilizing his Orc Special Forces (OSF) they were going to take Gaddafi out once and for all.

It wouldn't be a cheap operation, but the bounty the rebels had put on his head was more than enough to cover expenses. Plus knowing a few key officers in the coalition wasn't a bad thing either. Some had even offered some unofficial help.

“Frankie,” said his second in command through his earpiece. Jordan was a chameleon/human hybrid. He had blended in as one of the reporters covering Gaddafi's latest TV interviews. “He's about to talk.”

“Excellent, let me know when he has everyone's attention.”

“I could disguise myself as one of his mistresses and take him out, real quiet like.”

“Jordan, we have to make a statement here, remember?”

“I know, shock and awe.”

“That's my boy!”

“Okay, go go go! He's just started one of his rambling rants that puts everyone into a trance.”

Frankie and the rest of his hidden Orcs jumped into action. In no time Frankie had the crusty dictator by the throat. All Gaddafi's personal guards were dead, or wishing they were. Frankie's Orcs went off to secure the rest of the compound.

Gaddafi was mumbling something. Frankie wasn't listening. It was his moment now. He was going to show them what a real news story was about. His huge army knife hovered millimeters away from the dictator’s neck.

“You can't kill him,” said one of the reporters. “It's against the law.”

“That's where you're wrong. It's well documented his men has attacked Orc convoys. Sometimes killing my people. That's a crime punishable by death. And you can blather on about how this is not my kingdom, but I don't give a damn. It's about time...”

There was loud scream. It was a woman reporter. She was on her phone.

Everyone turned to her.

“What is it?” asked one of the reporters.

“I can't believe it!”

“Spit it out!” said Frankie.

“Paris Hilton's dog has just given birth. She's currently being interviewed.”

“Oh MY God!” screamed another reporter.

“Come! There's a TV in the bar area, let's go watch!”

Within moments Frankie was standing alone with Gaddafi.

“Son of a goblin!” Frankie grabbed Gaddafi by the beck and tossed him through the air. “These people deserve you.”

Gaddafi landed with a thud.

“Jordan, Jordan where are you?”

“Aw... she's going to call the puppy Twinkles. How sweet is that?”

“Jordan!”

“Just kidding boss, I'm right here.” Jordan tapped him on the shoulder.

“I thought the whole world had gone insane.” Frankie sat down, with his head in his hands. “That being said, I just don't care anymore. These humans are truly mad.”

“My chameleon half agrees with you.” Jordan patted Frankie on the shoulder. “What say you we go grab some beer?”

“Excellent idea. And bring Gaddafi over there. The rebels will pay us even more if we take him in alive.”

*I know there are many spellings for Gaddafi, but it's what Wikipedia and Google says so I'm sticking with it :).