And so it happened

This is my contribution for this week’s Monday Finish the Story. Thanks for reading and commenting! The “like” button has made me lazy (in terms of replying comments), but I appreciate all feedback/comment.


The only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits.

“Leave, no survivors! Kill everything that moves!” Roared a victorious General.

“Sir, there are only helpless kids and women! Can’t we hold them as prisoners?” The mixed emotion was clear as crystal in Captain’s voice.

Bang! Bang!!

Captain. No more.

“This is war!” The General addressed again putting his gun back – “You kill them here, you kill their men as well!”

And so it happened.


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham
© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham



Yay! We have a photo that I took for this week’s Friday Fictioneers! I’m excited to read the submissions based on this prompt. Here is my short story. Huge thanks to everyone for reading and commenting.


Helpless, I watched tears roll down her cheeks like raindrops sliding off the tip of a trembling leaf.

I wished life had an undo button.

“Long time ago, I read Hemingsway’s shortest story. For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” She paused briefly and continued –

“Today, I understand how it feels!”

The steamy mug sat on the table and listened quietly.


FF_santoshwriter (1)


For this week’s Mondays Finish the Story.


The crew of the Angel Flame received orders to head out.

The mood was set for the classic battle: man versus nature.

Man: 0, Nature:1.

***Photo Prompt***

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham


Here we are, as the another round of Mondays Finish the Story begins. This is the shortest story I’ve ever written. Hope it sounds as complete as I wanted it to…


Arriving at the beach, she reflected on her life.

Once, she was the only daughter. Next a loving wife. Then a nurturing mother.

And today, the last woman standing.

***Photo Prompt***

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

…and it woke up

I have no words to describe how I feel. I have my roots in Nepal, and I sit here completely heartbroken as i write this small piece for this weeks friday fictioneers. I pray for the departed souls, and hope that the people there stay strong and united in this difficult time.


It woke up equally powerful like it’d 84 years earlier.

People ran towards the station hall and the open space around it. The sky turned grey; the ground shook violently. Their homes and their ancient history collapsed and flew as dust.

It’d come without any warning.

They screamed as they ran for their lives. There was nothing but panic and cries. Some tried to jump to safety from tall buildings, only to be buried underneath it.

It hit them with a magnitude of 7.9, and went underground with many of their loved ones.

Then, the sun shone upon their loss.


PHOTO PROMPT - © Dee Lovering
© Dee Lovering

Chasing Baku

I’m doing my best to continue on the alien stories (1, 2, 3) as a part of Friday Fictioneers. Most importantly, I’m using this fiction challenge to improve my story telling skills. I take constructive criticism with smile. This week’s installment is wrapped in 92 words. I hope, you will find it entertaining.


“So much rage is no good for you.” The monk said in a calm voice.

It was a beautiful morning. Baku was standing next to the monk on the snow covered hilltop. The cold morning air was dense and heavy.

“Please, help me!” Baku begged.

The monks of Jillah had graciously taken in Baku. The monastery sat in peace on the hilltop. There was no distraction. There were no judgmental eyes.

“I will help you Baku. I’ll help you find yourself!”

Baku slept like stone that night. Unaware of what tomorrow held for him.

***Photo Prompt***
© Douglas M. MacIlroy

The old chap

My submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers is a continuation of the alien stories: the future and the bet! I’m hopeful that the story is taking a meaningful direction now. Please be honest and come up with constructive comments! The photo prompt is at the bottom. Now, I’m off to lab to run some experiments 🙂 Happy reading!  (Word count: 113)


The old chap wasn’t born the way he had turned out to be. He was once a curious little kid like everyone else on the Earth was.

It wasn’t his fault that his blood was green. He didn’t choose his own existence!

“You’re the special one, Baku!” – His mom had told him as they boarded the train.

“I don’t want to be special! I want blood like yours.”

His mom hugged him as his reply. They were fleeing from yet another city. It’d become a routine now. But he couldn’t flee from his fate. His destiny was handed to him.

He’d learned that what they said was true. You’re what your blood is!

***Photo Prompt***

© Jennifer Pendergast