In Keith’s 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 on 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, with links to your own blog or web site, on Monday.”
The photo.
The Mistake by John W. Howell
“So who do you have on your list?”
“Looks like an old man named Tasker.”
“Anyone else?”
“Nope. He’s the last one today.”
“Man, Thank the Creator. I’m totally worn out.”
“Me too. We have been at it for thirty days straight without a break.”
“Well, that’s how the collection business goes sometimes. Too bad those other guys got to have a vacation this week. It has made it especially tough on you and me.”
“I’ll second that. What’s say we do this one and then stop for a couple of drinks?”
“You are talking my language. Okay, we are over the guy right now.”
“You being the bombardier, just give me the word and I’ll cut loose.”
“Steady. The guy is out in a field. Another three feet. Steady. Okay, now. Hit the beam.”
“Beam’s away. The guy should be here any second.”
“I hear him in the transport receptacle. Man, he is a noisy one.”
“Let me check it out on the observation screen. Uh-oh-oh.”
“What do you mean, ‘oh-oh?”‘
“If that is the old man Tasker he sure doesn’t look his age.”
“Let me look I have the facial recognition tool. Lucifer H. Beelzebub. We collected the right guy at the wrong time.”
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know. I never had this problem before.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“For collecting someone who according to my tablet is not due for another seventy Earth years? You tell me.”
“Crap. We need to do something quick. Can’t we dump him?”
“No once collected, always collected.”
“We’ll just have to beg forgiveness.”
“Beg who, Tasker?”
“Naw. He knows nothing. We’ll have to beg the Creator.”
“No way. The last time I was meeting with the Creator I almost pooped my robes.”
“You don’t poop.”
“That’s what I wanted to do. I said almost. Besides you were the guy responsible for aiming. How did this happen?”
“I had my tablet open to the wrong year. Ever since that last download, this stupid thing reverts to a different year when you are sure you have set it right.”
“You better report that to IT. It may be the only way to save our butts.”
“Good plan. I feel better already.”
“What about Tasker? I wonder how he feels?”
“To be in heaven? I’m sure we can sell the advantages. Maybe we can tell him he was lucky we snatched him while he was in grace. Prevented a trip to the other place.”
“You well know he was in grace right up to the last minute or he would not have been on our list.”
“He doesn’t.”
“You want to lie to him?”
“You know, I think I have Post Collection Stress Disorder. I gotta ask for some time off.”
“Good luck with that. We will be lucky to see a vacation day in the next hundred Earth years.”
