I was really tempted to make this Friday Fictioneers about children going on a boat to that little island. But honestly I’m still trying to break my consistent streak of child-like wonder stories. Plus that island is REALLY tiny! That’s not the place you go explore with your friends, its where you exile your obnoxious younger brother/sister. Then you can leave an be utterly ignorant of your sibling’s growing resentment towards you and desire to kill you. If only I could write short pithy stories like THAT.
But I think that’s called tonal discordance.
Title: Duck Island
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 109
“I don’t want to look at the cranes on my break,” I grumbled. “I’m sick of them.”
“I’m sick of them by the time I get to work,” Kathy grimaced.
I grunted in agreement.
Another grey, cold day. Most everything was grey, actually. Minus the tiny little spit of land out in the pond. Like the painter of the water had their turf-green brush drop just one drip in the center.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked. “That little island.”
“It’s where all the missing ducks go,” Kathy said, pointing at the information tablets. Some of them were empty. “They probably end up on that little island. Away from us.”
A moving van’s horn argued loudly with another vehicle. I winced and wondered if I could swim out to the island without freezing to death.
Well, let’s see here, I’ve already met my quota this post for 1. Self-depreciation, 2. Reference to my previous works, 3. Taking a crack at said previous works, 4. Implying a desire to write a story that involves evil children and plotting revenge against family members, 5. Referencing my own bizarre tastes for fore-notes and end-notes.
Yup, that’s pretty much everything. Another life goal knocked right off the list.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!