Nothing much can knock me off my writing game except for being sick. On Sunday I felt the first inkling of a cold, and by Monday morning, I had the whole nine yards–blocked sinuses, wheezing, runny nose, sore throat, and coughing. Oi! The coughing. I have very well-controlled asthma, until I get a cold. A cold, of course being caused by a virus, means no antibiotics. So, fluids, rest, plenty of tissues, some honey and cinnamon, and generous use of my rescue inhaler, and I can manage the energy to breathe, but not much else.

So, no Monday post for this blog, Unexpected Paths; no Politics Wednesday. By late Thursday I was beginning to feel human enough to do the homework for an online workshop for Thursday night and to draft a Friday Fictioneers flash fiction piece. Total number of words written for the week–just about 1,000. Not the most productive week, but at least it’s not because I’m goofing off.

Mainly because I’ve been sustained amid all that bed rest with marathons of old TV shows and Amazon streaming video, I must have been waxing a bit nostalgic when I got the photo prompt for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. There’s an obscure hint in the story’s title, “Everything Dies,” and the story is an homage to an old sci-fi show I loved. When you see the photo prompt, then the story, it’ll all make sense. I hope. Regardless, it came from my rhinovirus-addled brain.

As usual, if you don’t see the link on the title, scroll to the top of the page, click on the Friday Fictioneers tap, then select the story from the drop-down list.