Friday Fictioneers: Fallen


The fall felt sudden when it came, the troops marching along the avenues, the army encampment in the shadow of the tower, everywhere red, white and black.

Others went before us, but trouble had seemed so distant, another man’s worry. And in the meantime there had been meals to cook, clothes to launder, work and school, the thousand small things that make a life.

Now liberty sleeps, the days have taken on a darker hue and that other life has faded to a distant point on the horizon that remains just a point, no matter the miles travelled.


Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. See the prompt pic and have a go. See here to join in.

Apologies for the slow response to comments. I’ve dived into writing another novel and am finding hard to clamber out!


41 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers: Fallen

  1. Excellent Lynn, evoking the experience of the common person swept up by history – something that relates to the present situation for us all, though thankfully not the war.


    1. Thanks Iain. I was trying to make it ambiguous intentionally. That it could be about the invasion of Paris during the second world war or out current crisis, watching the virus creek up on us. Thanks for reading

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, C. I tried to make it so it could adult to now or seventy years ago. It seemed to work ☺️. And thank you for the encouragement with the novel – 30,000 words in and still feeling good about it. Take care


  2. Nicely done, Lynn. It remnded me of a line from an Al Stewart song, ‘our lives are just a point along a line that runs forever with no end.’ and another about the war, ‘their lives were just a smudge of smoke against the sky.’ Good luck with the novel. I find it hard to write and participate in FF, simply because of the time requred for comments. That’s why I have to dib out sometimes.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Great quotes there, Michael, thanks for sharing those. And you’re right about FF. I’ve taken part more during lock down than I have for months – reading and commenting, even if you don’t do all the stories – takes a long time. Thanks for reading

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Wonderful mood here, evoking that creeping sense of the mundane persisting and keeping us blind to the monster at the door until it’s too late. Your tale gives a great poignancy to the photo, the dream of the shining city cast away with the trash.


  4. Your story is a piercingly accurate depiction of the way we ignore threats in favour of just living our daily lives. Still, I console myself with the thought that it is “the thousand small things that make a life” that eventually save us from totalitarianism.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I really like how you portray the details instead of the big picture, but we still get the idea of what’s happening.

    Stay locked in on that novel. I know that locked-in feeling. There’s not much better, and it can be fleeting. I keep trying to talk myself into getting there.


  6. Dear Lynn,

    This one leaves me with a chill that’s more than the autumn air. Well constructed piece. Frighteningly real. I fear Liberty might be preparing for a nap.



    PS Those pesky novels. I hope to one day read yours in print.


  7. This one just kind of makes me hold my breath, waiting for whatever comes next— must have been like the way Paris held its breath when the Nazis came marching in.


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