Friday Fictioneers: Poverty of Pullet

Morning everyone, especially to you Rochelle for our weekly dalliance into the world of flash fiction, a complete tale in 100 words with a beginning, a middle and an ending, bases loosely or entirely on the picture below; taken expertly by the wonderful and multi talented Rochelle.

It can’t be done, I hear you crow, well I’ve news for you, it can although not altogether successfully in my case, so here goes

On My Marks…

Get Set…


The gift shop had struggled on with mail order through the pandemic; people wanted driftwood sculptures and wooden cacti to liven up their desks, projecting a phoney personality in their otherwise dismal existences.

Under the counter Heron flesh was harder to come by. Heron Hunting was outlawed years before, but the sweet tasting carrion was too much for some to resist.

Henry heard there’d been hunt over the weekend; swiping the sleeping Herons from the nest, skilfully slitting their throats as they gurgled for breath. He hurried up to the shop door, drooling he swore.

“Nope” meant another week without.

There we are 100 words of awfulness, I love Herons and so I really don’t know where this came from, anyway enjoy.


  1. I have koi carp in a pond. There are herons who come and watch them from the adjacent roof. I don’t think they’re admiring their beauty. Bon appetit, Henry!
    Good, if gruesome, story, Minister.
    PS – I rather like herons actually – alive and flying I mean, of course! They have such a wonderfully clumsy take-off!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My “like” button isn’t working. Frustrating.

    Herons are cool. They wouldn’t look kindly at anyone, in Minnesota or Michigan, for killing the herons. Anyway, I heard the meat is tough and stringy 🙂


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