This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
Prompt ~TIMID TOM
by John Yeo
Tom had a story that he wanted to share with the world. His eyes were forever searching the literary terrain, looking for inspiration within the turmoil of his mind. The story began to be formed, moulded and was soon coming together. He fought hard against his own personal harsh critical resistance. Always pushing onwards with a sharp insistence expressing his feelings in an explosion of words. He was always searching for perfection, fighting against a passive resistance. Always honing, rewriting, editing and subtly improving, it seemed publication would be forever postponed. One day he overcame this unexplainable timidity by typing his manuscript online and pressing the send button.
Timid Tom is now well known as his words were read and appreciated by the online community. The moral of this story is if you keep something to yourself it will never reach anyone.
As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia
RAGS AND MR. POTTS
by John Yeo
At last we own our own property, we are so proud it belongs to us, lock, stock and barrel. There is a lot of work to be done it is very rundown and we have boxes and stacked everywhere on the bare wooden floorboards. Our pet mongrel dog Rags, has settled in, always barking at the slightest noise or a strange passing dog. Cindy and I are energised and we are decorating the house from top to bottom.
Cindy has an organising mind and this morning she said. “We will sleep in the downstairs front room until we finish the bedrooms off”
“That’s OK by me!” I reply. “Hey! Look at that dog, what is he doing with that old stick someone has wedged across the stairs? He is trying to get that out from there!”
“Oh, Rags, come here you silly boy!” Cindy shouts.
“Oh leave him, at least it is the outside stairs.”
Mrs Brown our nearest neighbour pops in for a chat and a cup of tea, bringing a hamper of groceries, “Just to tide you over dears, until you can get to the local store.”
“Thanks so much!” I respond, “Can I pay you for them?”
“No don’t be do silly! I would like you to take them as a good neighbourly gift.”
Mrs Brown sits on a packing-case drinking a cup of Cindy’s special brew tea.
“Did you hear the story of old Mr Potts, who last lived here, he was a very eccentric tyrant of a man. He would always be chasing the local kids away if they wandered off the path out front, on to his drive. He would charge out of the house waving a big stick to scare them away, every time anyone passed by.”
“No!” We chorused.
Mrs Brown took another sip of tea. “Well he was a bit of a hermit, living alone and not mixing with anyone socially. Rumour has it that he would drink vast quantities of home-brewed cider and get very drunk. One day he tripped over a stick on your back stairs, very drunk and not looking where he was going. He lay at the bottom of those stairs for a whole week before he was discovered, sadly he died on the way to the hospital.”
Cindy refilled Mrs Browns teacup, as we sat listening to this tragic tale.
“Well!” She continued. “Rumour has it that someone deliberately lodged that stick there to trip him up, but there was never any proof and nobody is owning up to anything.”
At this point there was a loud barking from around the back as Rags, tired of trying to dislodge that pesky stick, just sat there barking at nothing, there was no one to be seen.
When Mrs Brown saw this and noticed the stick lodged across the back stairs she nearly fainted with the shock. Cindy gave her a glass of water and produced some smelling salts. When Mrs Brown came around she was alarmed.
“Surely that is not the same stick that was responsible for the death of Mr Potts! How did that get there?” She cried.
“Oh! That stick has been there since we moved in!” I said, “Rags has been going potty trying to get it out, we thought he was just having a game, but after hearing your story now! I wonder?”
We both finish the day working non-stop, flat out to get as much done as possible before it gets too dark.
As we settle down to sleep Cindy whispers. “Good Night darling, I hope our little house is not haunted by the ghost of Mr Potts!”
“Good night Cindy! Don’t worry, Rags will see him off!”
Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
Micro science was radically altering the way of life of the Human race. This amazing blend of physics and science, moulded to new discoveries in the fields of psychology and biology, led to many new discoveries that were still unfolding. Waves of the new power obtained from the elusive dark matter that surrounds us all in the new dimension, allowed the Human race to achieve miracles with new scientific advances. Enormous amounts of knowledge could be stored in tiny rings that were archives which could be accessed simply by thought power, allowing instant access to the answers to many fields of enquiry. The thought rings were distributed to all young people when they reached the age of thirteen, where they replaced the old-fashioned education system.
Dickus was a rogue scientist who developed a secret control ring, that would be able to control the thoughts of everyone wearing a thought ring. In a slow insidious way he became master of the ringed society, and immediately ordered all children to be ringed at birth with the developmment of new materials that would expand wlth time and growth. A new God was worshipped as Dickus was both cruel and ruthless in his use of these limitless powers. One day an alien spacecraft arrived and landed in the newly created lush green forest that was once the Sahara desert. The aliens were returning Human spacemen and their families who had been travelling around the outer reaches of the known universe for centuries. Dickus could see danger and began to create weapons to wipe out the newcomers, who of course did not wear thought control rings. Dickus invited the leaders of the space families to his palace, to commune with them about the wonders of the rings, with their access to vast stores of unlimited knowledge. The sage old leader who could see many zombie-like people, obedient to Dickus’s every command, refused. Drawing his old fashioned ray-gun, he shot and killed the dictator, cut his finger off and threw both finger and ring into the deepest part of the ocean. The body of this evil monster was then publicly burned never to return. The population immediately woke from their enforced trance and removed the thought control rings. New methods of learning and culture were developed and many years of happy contentment followed.
Meanwhile in a remote laboratory in a cave hidden deep in the rockiest mountains, a cryogenically stored clone of Dickus stirred, as a computer generated robot began to adjust the temperature.
(to be continued)
Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved