The ferry had been fitted with the latest technology and the last human operator had retired almost five years ago. The onboard computer ensured the boat ran on time – day after day after day.
Passengers got used to a computerised voice wishing them a good day. Many would say a cheery ‘thank you’ in reply as they disembarked.
The virus that engulfed the globe six months ago annihilated all of Earth’s living creatures in a matter of weeks.
Each day the ferry makes this journey. Its digital captain oblivious of his lack of passengers. His daily, cheery adieu, going unheard.
Photo Prompt © Ted Strutz
A 100-word story for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt.
The two large alien arachnids skulked in the shadows watching and waiting. Then the smaller of the two leaned across to the other and whispered,
“Tell me again Alf, how’s this going to work?”
“Dead simple Sam. When the human thing comes in here to put on his old boots his feet will be trapped in our webs. He won’t be able to move.”
“You start nibbling his right leg, I’ll have a go at the left. Well leave the arms and torso for lunchtime and the head will make a nice supper before bed. Are you ready?”
Photo courtesy of Sarah Potter
A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.
You’re my agent, damn it! It’s your job to get me assignments that best suit my many talents.
Look at this place. Miles from anywhere. Walls covered in ivy. Glass missing from the windows and where the hell is the roof? I don’t care what they’re paying I’m not spending a single night in this place.
What if it starts raining? You know water plays havoc with my ball and chain. Once the rust gets in it’s a devil of a job getting rid of it.
I’m sorry Jamie you’ll simply have to find me another haunting.
Preferably somewhere drier.
A 100-word story for Friday Fictioneeers.
Photo courtesy of Roger Bulltot
I peeked around the door into the shower.
There he was exactly as they’d said he would be. Stark naked, with a nasty looking gash above his right eye, his silly pink plastic shower hat on his head, soaking wet and quite dead. Impressive.
When I’d first contacted the company they’d assured me his demise would be made to look like an accident. They weren’t cheap, but finally being rid of that bore of a husband was worth every penny.
All I needed to do now was scream, act a little hysterical and phone the police.
My new life beckoned.
Photo prompt courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at Friday Fictioneers.