image2fiction

[image2fiction]

reblog with an image so we can write a 500 word fiction about it

[image2fiction]

hey u up

implying i ever sleep

[image2fiction]

[ID: A picture from Animal Crossing of Rover, an anthropomorphised blue and white cat wearing a red and black sweater. He is sitting on a bench in a train. End ID]

Summary: a passenger reminds an old conductor of his distant youth.

Teen Skater On The Bellemont Express

this picture was sent in by @woowserss on twitter, and it quickly went off the rails, so to speak. enjoy!

- @angeleofbrahma

“All aboard!” 

The speakers crackled overhead, followed by a smooth, metallic whistle as the train began to lurch forward. A passing thought about my favourite train-theme movie, The Polar Express, flittered through my mind as I stepped off the platform and into the carriage. I never did see how that one ended. The old, wooden doors swung closed behind me, and so too did any chance of turning back now, returning my parents house and drinking cocoa under the gentle sound of snowfall.

I couldn’t help but hope I would fare better than the children in that film at the hands of their conductor, chaotic and unstoppable.

I shuddered. Whether it was from the chill or the creeping terror at the thought of that entity, I could not say.

“Well hello there!” a voice as rich as Jeff Bezos bellowed across the hall. “Don’t just stand there, make yourself comfortable, here let me take your bags!” A tall, elegantly-dressed gentlebat strode across the carpet to greet me.

“I-��

“Not a word my friend, don’t get many travellers on The Bellemont. I take great enjoyment in looking after those who do, now simply tell me three things - 

“Please no, I’m terrible at riddles.”

“No riddles here, my lad! None whatsoever!” He closed his Riddles.com tab discreetly. “Ah, well, uhhh... Cocoa! Do you drink hot cocoa?”

“I’m 18, of course I drink hot cocoa, now that I’m old enough.” A rush of anxiety poured over me, sure I was legal drinking age, but only just. I hadn’t ordered cocoa beverages for myself in public much so it was still strange and alien.

The bat gave me a skeptical once-over.

“Can I see some ID?”

“Oh- Okay,” I fumbled with my backpack, “Will my Teen Skaters League card do?” I paw through the mess; clothes, toiletries, way too much stuff. The lasagna I packed for lunch almost slops out onto the floor. Thankfully, I caught it just in time.

“Of course, sir, and you’re in luck - we have a discount for Leaguers!”

“Wow, you know, I’ve never been in an establishment that offered League discounts before!”

He looked at me gravely.

“We are the only remaining business in the Northern Hemisphere that does. You know I used to be a Leaguer myself, before they shut my district down.”

“Shut down-”

“Too many stunts, yeah. I think the police were too afraid we would get too good at skating and branch off into crimes; we were always too fast for them. They were probably just jealous. So, they burnt the place down, called it an accident, a story as old as skating itself-”

“They set fire to the-”

“Yep, whole danged rec centre went down. It was for the best, honestly. Course, after the flames died down I took to the rails, made something of myself.”

“Gosh. How old were you when you became whatever it is you are now?”

“Wasn’t too long ago really, three months maybe? In bat time though that’s much longer, nearly 6 months in human years. You’re a cat though, so it’s more like a fortnight right?”

I stared up at him, unsure of how to respond to this.

[ID: A photograph of a large bat with dark skin and golden fur. The bats eyes are closed and its wings are wrapped around itself. End ID]

another fine @tiredwiredandtired & @angeleofbrahma chaos fiction

[image2fiction]

[ID: Yellow 3D text with red edges that reads “what is a god compared to a cowboy”. It is tilting left and right on a loop. End ID]

Summary: Two gods go on a cowboy adventure? It’s hard to explain...

hey folks i hope you enjoy our cowboy story, we didnt know what was going to happen with it, we started with the GIF and tried to capture the energy it felt to us and eventually chaos ensued please send us other images or GIFs to write from. we actually want to write lots of short maybe 500 word ones, and it’s going to take a lot of self-control. we’ll probably keep continuing this one to longerform though, especially if you tell us to. thanks for vibing and keeping it tight if you need me im on my cell 

- @tiredwiredandtired

what is a god compared to a cowboy

part 1 

“What is god compared to a cowboy.” An intrusive thought echoed through my mind as I pushed through the doors of the saloon, one hand on my holstered revolver, the other swung up to brush the sweat from my brow.

The saloon, forever covered in dust from the cracks in the windows, walls, and open doors, was largely empty, aside from an old man at the piano, the bartender, and a few guys playing cards in one corner.

“That lying bard-” I stopped thinking mid-thought. There he was. A tall man cloaked in worn fabric, what was once elegantly-patterned layers of detail - now torn and stained by the harsh, dusty, wind of the outlands. There he stood, a god. Imperfect, seemingly human, but a god nonetheless. Brangus.

I grit my teeth as we sized each other up. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then, reaching a wordless agreement, we both gave a sharp nod. I turned my head to the old man slightly, not breaking eye contact with my opponent. “Hit it, Joe.” I spat like so much old chewing tobacco.

“Is that the way you greet old friends these days, Jaroline? I’ll admit I’m not familiar with the sentiment, but something about it rings quite offensive.”

“I’m talking to Joe right now. You, I will deal with in a moment.” I caught Joe’s eye as he turned from the piano to catch mine. An understanding nod, and the instrument sprung to life at the hands of the best keysmasher in the Deep South.

The sounds of steam through brass pipes, of bells, and whistles, and bangs and clangs, filled the air as I turned my attention back to Brangus and we got back to buildin’ up that tension. The tension that you can feel, like a thunderstorm comin’. That kind of tension.

Brangus withdrew a cigar from his coat pocket and placed it between his lips like a cigarette, and made his way over to Joe’s machine. He leaned against it and threw me a snide grin.

“You know I’ve never been one for showtunes, Jaroline!” He roared over the slapping cacophony, turning to Joe. “Now I’m sorry to have to do this to your machine, young man, but well, I need a light and… ah, anyway, hit it Joe!” 

Joe leapt back as Brangus slammed an open palm on top of the machine, which sparked on impact as the top of the contraption burst into flame and splinters. The fire began consuming the delicately carved oak and mahogany of the still-whirring and pounding cabinet of gears, cymbals and drum skins. Without an operator, the noise began to die down as the burning flames swallowed up the machine entirely. A leathery hand hovered in place, lighting a cigar on a makeshift furnace.

“Sorry, old chap, you’ll find physical possessions a fool’s gambit anyway,” He shrugged to Joe, before turning to me, raising a hand to the ceiling. “Back to the greatest fool of them all.” He snapped his fingers and time stopped around us.

The saloon was frozen. The swirling motes of dust around us, the flames and smoke produced by melting varnish. The bartender quietly and resignedly setting up a third Kickstarter page for Joe’s next machine, Joe himself and the gamblers, all stuck in place, trapped by their own understanding of time and their physical limitations. I sighed, turned and jumped the bar to pour myself a glass of “house special”. I took a long drink, grimacing, and stared at my old friend.

“What do you want, Brangus?”

to be continued...

[ID: It is a yellow, pensive face emoji, but it has had a brown, 3D cowboy hat added. The facial expression of the emoji could be read as somber acceptance, or regretful. End ID]

another fine @tiredwiredandtired & @angeleofbrahma chaos fiction