Kreative Kue 318 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
“Why did you let them go through?”
“They didn’t look like someone I wanted to know.”
“That has nothing to do with it. We are running a business.”
“Yes, but the business has to have a heart.”
“You let too many go through, and we’ll be out of business, let me tell you.”
“Ah, it was only two. More will come along.”
“What made you decide to et them through?”
“Like I said, they didn’t look like people I wanted to know.”
“What’s to know? You just collect the money, and then they are on their way.”
“I like to have a little discussion with ’em.”
“Discussion? I can’t imagine what you have to discuss.”
“Okay, you pretend to be one of them, and I’ll show you.”
“Fine. Seems stupid, but I’ll do it.”
“Okay, ready. You are at the entrance to the walkway.”
“And I’m in my regular spot.”
“Yes, yes. Come on, show me.”
“My first line is friendly. Ahem. Here it is.”
“For heaven’s sake, get on with it.”
“WHO DARES APPROACH THE WALK OF THE TROLLS.”
“Sounds okay so far.”
“Thanks. Next, I do a variation on the Fe Fi Fo Fum bit.”
Let’s hear it.”
“Okay. ‘FE, FI, FO, FUM. WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU GIRLS FROM.’”
“Now, wait a minute. You are supposed to say something like ‘I smell the blood of an Englishman’”
“But these are girls, and they are Americans. See what I mean? It becomes difficult.”
“Just tell them they need to give the troll a toll.”
“Yeah, right to my face.”
“Do you have your scowling face on?”
“Yup, and they laugh.”
“Maybe we need a new approach.”
“Um, let me think. Okay, I got it.”
“This should be great.”
“FE FI FO FUM. PAY THE TOLL, OR I’LL TELL YOUR MUM.”
“I’m sure they’ll be shivering by then.”
“You have something better?
“Well. How about FE, FI, FO, FUM. PAY THE TOLL, OR I’LL SPANK YOUR BUM.”
“For heaven’s sake. We are trolls, not perverts. Kill that one.”
“How about just simply putting up a sign that. says Troll toll. Pay what you want.”
“What about those who refuse to pay?”
“Yeah, good catch. How’s this, Troll toll. Pay what you want or be eaten.”
“Nice ring to it.”
“So, in reality, the ones you let through didn’t look good enough to eat?”
“Bingo. They looked all tough and stringy.”
“Oh, I hate that.”
Tien Skye, who blogs at From the Widow Seat offered this tale. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
(Untitled) © 2021, Tien Skye
As the two ladies walked under each wooden truss, memories slowly faded from their minds – every moment of their relationship, be it grudges, grievances or gratitude.
Such was the road of the pure realm, purifying all tainted spirits from worldly matters.
Both had died together in a fight that turned ugly. In their previous lives, they fought over many things, simply because one could not stand the brilliance of the other. When one married a rich man, the other must marry a richer man; when one gave birth to a pretty girl, the other must give birth to a prettier girl; when one bought a classy dress, the other must buy a classier dress. Their relationship was built on an unhealthy competition.
All of these did not matter in the pure realm.
No one knew how long – both time and distance – this road of reincarnation was. Every spirit would walk until each memory from their previous life was wiped clean before the purified spirit reincarnated into the world. As the two ladies reluctantly walked beside each other on this road, each truss stole a bit of that resentment.
The revolting journey transformed into an annoyed one, then into a bearable one, then into a curious one – both of them had forgotten who the lady standing next to herself was. And as they walked, they became younger – into young adults, then into adolescents, then into children. As always, peace returned to the road of reincarnation and to their spirits as they crawled eagerly into the light of the world again.
Somewhere in the world, a pair of twin baby girls were born.
My effort was:
“This was a good idea, Jane. They’ll never suspect anything.”
“They will know we’re here, though, Cass.”
“The stalking app on the phones.”
“What the Find my friends thing?”
“Yeah. I’m sure Rod looks at it all the time, to know where I’m going.”
“That’s a bit creepy. Doesn’t he trust you?”
“He says it’s not that. He says he needs to be able to get to me quickly if I’m in any trouble.”
“My BS detector’s working overtime on that, girl.”
“Doesn’t Pete stalk you then, Jane?”
“He knows that if he tries it I’ll take a nutcracker to his nuts.”
“Ooh – that’s mean. But that’ll only work if you know he’s stalking you. Perhaps he is and you can’t tell.”
“I have my ways. Anyway, if you don’t want Rod stalking you, just turn the app off.”
“Can I do that?”
“Yeah – easy. You want me to show you?”
“Best not Jane. He’d notice if he couldn’t get a location for me and I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Okay. Here’s a plan. Let’s have a word with the guy behind the counter in the restaurant. If you leave your phone there, Rod will see where you are and think we’re having a long lunch. I’ll do the same with mine.”
“But what if he rings me and I’m not there to answer it?”
“It’ll go to voicemail. It’s not unusual to set the phone to silent in a restaurant – in fact it’s rude not to do that.”
“What if there’s an emergency and we need to call someone?”
“That’s why I carry a pay as you go phone with me.”
“You’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”
“Got to. It’s the only way we can be free.”
“Free to do what, though?”
“Whatever the hell we want.”
“Anyway, will the bloke in the restaurant do that for us – keep our phones?”
“When I said the guy behind the counter, I meant Guy behind the counter. He and I have what you may call an understanding.”
“Like a quid pro quo?”
“Yeah, that. Except I don’t charge him, if you know what I mean.”
“Uh huh. Come on; let’s go talk to him and hand over the phones. Then you and I can go on that blind date I promised you.”
“But I’m a bit scared – what’re these two like?”
“Don’t worry – they’re great guys. You’ll love them.”
“Okay, but we’ll have to be quick.”
“With the phones in there, I reckon we’ve got about an hour, maybe an hour and a half before anyone gets suspicious. That’s plenty long enough.”
On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at firstname.lastname@example.org before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.