Friday Fictioneers: Invictus

Once more, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields has challenged us to produce a hundred-word story to dramatize the photo of the week – and this time, I have failed. Oh, I have a story to share with you, but it’s really hard to tell a quasi-Victorian little story and keep it down to a mere 100 words – at least, I couldn’t. Here you are, a tale of ambition and modern technology and, of course, true love –

Invictus

On a damp, chilly spring morning in the year 20–, a young gentleman set forth to participate in the Velocity Competition held in the town of C——-. His heart swelled with confidence, and indeed his current machine could scarcely be improved. The frame was of the finest cast iron, and two elegantly curved and conveniently positioned steering handles mounted before the operator’s seat served to guide it.

Once he won the race, the prize would fit him to request the hand of lovely Tiffany Maud. Settling himself astride the device, he placed his feet on the propulsionary pedals and thrust against them. And thrust again, and again. But alas, a week of rains had caused the vehicle’s iron frame to rust into an immovable, though sculptural, solid mass.