Friday Fictioneers – A Tale of Conquest

21 03 2013

Hi folks, back again for another stab at making a worthwhile contribution to the melange of prose that is the Friday Fictioneers. 100 words or thereabouts based on a photo prompt, all ably organised by the indefatigable Rochelle.

(c) Doug MacIlroy

A Tale of Conquest

Ask any elite performer – retirement sucks.

When you’re forced out at the top of your game, you inevitably feel unfulfilled. Regardless of fame, there’s always the sense of never having finished your career if you miss out on The Big One. When I stood there and watched as my three brothers galloped away into the distance, it was just gut-wrenching. But what’s a horse to do?

So here I stand, brilliant white coat faded to grey, dreaming of what might have been.

Oh, by the way, my original name was Conquest, but you might know me better as Pestilence.

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Authors Note: According to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett’s excellent book Good Omens, Pestilence was forced into retirement in 1936 after the invention of penicillin, and was replaced by Pollution.


Friday Fictioneers – The Old Missouri Barn

21 02 2013

Howdy folks! Sorry I missed last week, but somebody volunteered me to paint the local library and it’s been taking way more effort than expected!

Something slightly different for you this week, as my darling other half wanted us to have a go at a two-part story. So read this one first, and then read Anne’s. Her idea was that I would write whatever I liked, and she’d find away of continuing it or taking it in a different direction. I probably made it harder by having a definite conclusion rather than leaving mine open-ended. I’m sure she’ll get her own back at some point!

If you’d like to join in with the Friday Fictioneers, visit Rochelle for all the rules and regs.

The Old Missouri Barn

Copyright – Janet Webb

The Old Missouri Barn

Just like the old farmer that once owned it, the old Missouri barn was a character: content in retirement; resistant to change.

To the Barn Alliance, it was wonderful opportunity. Over the space of many months, vines were cleared, rotten boards replaced, old trusses repaired, and roof recovered. Even the old grey picket fence was white again.

But the barn didn’t want to be young. As soon as the volunteers left, with a creaking and a groaning, the walls slumped, the roof peeled back, creepers spread rapidly, and with an almost audible sigh, the barn settled back into comfy dilapidation.

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For more on the Missouri Barn Alliance and Rural Network (MoBARN), visit

To read Anne’s follow-up story, click here.