In Keiths words. “Using this photo (below) 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 keithchanning@gmail.com 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.”
The photo.
The Excavation by John W. Howell © 2021
“Everyone, please be careful. We have been working at this site for over a year.”
“I hear you have turned up nothing but this one artifact.”
“That is correct. It appears the civilization disappeared without a trace.”
“Except for this one artifact.”
“Quite true, Ambrose. We are almost certain others will be found, but so far, this is all the evidence we have that anyone existed here before.”
“So, how would you describe the artifact, professor.”
“You can see for yourself that it is green and make out of a substance that is hard and clear.”
“Do you have a guess as to its age?”
“It is tough to determine since we would have to take a piece of it and then do a dating process. However, given the low level of technology, I would put this object in the twenty-first century, say around 2021.”
“Wow, professor, that was five thousand years ago.”
“I know, er, what was your name again?”
“Tantius.”
“Ah, yes, Tantius, the son of Truntious. It is over five thousand years. You see, back then, humans used to walk around with sustenance in containers. These were made out of silica and were a very crude method of portability compared to our standards.”
“Why did they need to carry sustenance, Professor.”
“No one is sure Tantius. They had a term for it. They called it carry-out.”
“Wasn’t that what helped make them extinct?”
“Well done, Ambrose. Yes, their carry-out finally did them in. Unfortunately, they did not know how to dispose of these containers, so their rivers and oceans finally ran dry with the magnitude of the waste.”
“Yet this is the only artifact.”
“It is a little poetic, isn’t it? I suppose we will never know where all the dross finally went. However, we should be thankful that it is gone.”
“What are you going to do with this artifact?”
“We will wrap it and carefully transport it back to Tandox. They can study it more there and will be able to lift the traces of matter that will identify the last user of this container.”
“What then?”
“The matter can be used to replicate the user for further study.”
“I would love to see that. They say humans only had two eyes.”
“Yes, Tantis. They were definitely inferior to our race. If they hadn’t eliminated themselves, they would be no match for us. Unfortunately, we only have sketchy descriptions of them, but they seemed to be ill-equipped for survival. Well, are we ready to head back to the classroom?”
“Speaking for myself, this has been a fascinating discussion. I could really go for some lunch.”
“Lovely, Tantis, thank you. We have some fresh dung waiting for us when we get back, which I’m sure you will enjoy.”
Fiction Favorites 
At least the ETs eat organic food, John 👍😂🤣😂
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Hahahahaha. Great thought, Chris. 🤣
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😂🤣😂
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I thought for sure they were going to be cockroaches. This was so much worse. lol
Great job, John.
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Right? I can’t use roaches again so the fly’s have it. Thanks, Staci.
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Mmmmmm, fresh dung. Mom always served canned.
Great job, John.
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Hahahaha. Thanks, Dan. 😁
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I don’t think it would be a good idea to replicate the last user of the bottle. Laws of unintended consequences . . .
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Might give rise to a whole new set of problems for sure. Might even be a Millennial. Thanks, Liz.
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Gasp!
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I know right?
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😀 Chortle . . .
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cough
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Good one, John! I thought masks would remain…they seem to be scattered around every parking lot.😉
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5000 years is a long time. I’m sure those plastic floss things are around somewhere not to mention a cigarette filter. Thank you, Jill.
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Hmmm. Planet of the dung beetles. I can’t see it catching on.
Having said that, we mustn’t forget what Jonathan Schell predicted in The Fate of the Earth: that after a nuclear war, all life would fail, leaving behind only an ‘empire of insects and grass’.
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My thought exactly. Thanks, Keith.
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Oh my…. wonder if the dung comes in different flavours?
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Depends on what’s was for dinner yesterday. 🤣
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Buahahahaha! And who/what left the dung behind!
We are like kids with our poo-poo-ca-ca amusement!
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Nothing like a good poop joke. Good question on who left it. My guess is a big June bug or something
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We all regress 😉
June bug or …. something bigger! Was it a family-sized meal or what?
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You want to know too many details. Let’s just say it wasn’t corn.
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Hahahaha!!!
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🤣
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So instead of MREs do they have DungREs ?
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Only when they are working, John. 🤣
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Dung!?!? Oh, yuck! You’d think over 5000 years tastes would have evolved a bit, LOL!
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These guys are new to the neighborhood. Thanks, Mae.
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Took me a while to realize they were flies. Kept thinking aliens.
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Might be one and the same. Thanks, Charles.
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This could be a fairly accurate prediction. Hope they don’t go inside the artifact. They could be trapped and overheat.
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And then where would we be? No characters at all.
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Lol, John! They are right about carry-out being the demise of humans. 🙂 Great response to the prompt!
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Thank you. Glad you lied it. 😁
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Oh, my, the visual of this one wasn’t pretty, John. But great job to the prompt. 🙂
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Yeah, Sorry about that, Lauren 🤢
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It’s ok. I got through it. 🤣
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And… the flies have it! Excellent, my friend!
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I always knew the dung eaters would survive 😉 They might be creating their own jurassic park if they replicate that.
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Flies?? Well, I’ve always heard the cockroaches will be the last to disappear, but flies seem to work for me, too. Fascinating, John. Love where you went with this one.
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Thank you, Debbie. It was fun.
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Life goes on. The wheel keeps turning.
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It does. Thanks, Tim
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LOLOL!
God thing there wasn’t a ship in the bottle. That would have thrown them for a poop loop!
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So true. Bottled poop is the worst. No salt or anything.
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Hahahaha!
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Good for the blood pressure though.
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I don’t think I will ever say “To be a fly on the wall,” again . .
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Hahaha.
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LOL
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Crude containers for us crude individuals.
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Yes.
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That last sentence, John. Excellent!
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Thank you, Robbie. 😁
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Ack – I’ll pass on lunch!
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Hahaha.
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Ewww, but you just know it’s going to be a bug that survives. Good story, John!
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Yes, it wll. Thanks, Deborah.
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You’re welcome! 😀
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Ah, just lovely. Hard to beat this. My creativity juices just dried up in awe ☺
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Aw. What a nice thing to say. You have plenty of juice left. 😁
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I said goodbye to Jane a long time ago, a difficult day in June, the sun shining and tears streaming from her charcoal eyes. I never knew what would happen. Perhaps I would have been kind but I was not. Brutal, her possessiveness getting to me, a faithful lover. Sent away from the object of her affection Jane mired herself in drink and casual sex and one day understood that things had changed.
A relaxing holiday, detoxing, laying on the beach, reinventing the girl she once was. Keith was the first person she met. He owned a vineyard, had his own label. Probably not the right guy for the new Jane, he would have suited her before she had met me. Depressed and forlorn she took the coke only because she wished to be with someone. The sex she was looking forward to, perhaps would forgetting me in sensation, that night was terrible, breath smelling of onions and whiskey. He was flabby, drunk and flaccid, she told me.
An explanation.
“She had too much coke, too much blow and an ill conceived plan to go para-gliding in the morning. Drunk and high. Reception were diligent enough to book the trip despite possible misgivings. An argument in the morning, she not right for him, he not for her. Drinking at eight when you did not stop till two the night before. Jane found the saddle and was dragged from the small pontoon over the ocean the bottle of our best red still in her hand. I laughed as she waved at me high above the sea, the parachute wide, all well.
She was still drinking and the wind was rising. She threw the bottle upon the beach below as the speedboat, turned to drag her back out to sea.
I watched, her friend said, as she unclasped the straps, one by one, the parachute, slid sideways dipping as she released the first strap. I hoped that she was just joking, being the silly girl I met last night. She was fun. but she released the other. She fell like a stone. Had it not been for you watching then she would have died instantly.
He saw it all; the drinking, the idiocy, used to it, de rigueur for her. A crazy girl. When she lost control and dipped into the ocean he was ready. He Knew what was coming, left his seat, dove into the ocean, dived and held her above the water. As a kid a trained lifeguard knowing what to do. The beach was almost deserted as she was dragged from the sea. To late. She was gone.
I wept, her new friend wept.
A body, a black bag, going to the UK. I walked the beach for one last time and found the bottle. A smile formed despite my torment. A note inside said; Sorry. I Love You.
Could have been meant for anyone.
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Super story, Ray
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You had me till the end! Flies. Well done, John.
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Yup. That’s what they are. Thanks, Jennie.
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You’re welcome, John.
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[…] The Excavation by John W. Howell © 2021 […]
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LOL!
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