It’s in the DNA

It’s in the DNA

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. This week’s photo is own I took at Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri. The character here looks a little frightening, don’t you think?

If you are interested in contributing your own story, or to see what others have written, please visit  Sunday Photo Fiction

XSPF 12-30-18 Spaulding
Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

Hearing the knock at the front door, my father peered through the window shears, cursed softly then turned on me.

“What possessed you to submit your DNA to that website!”

The mild-mannered man who never yelled, even when his favorite football team was getting trounced, now resembled The Incredible Hulk.

Shocked by the sudden change in demeaner, I mumbled something about curiosity. “You never talk about your side the family,” I challenged.

“For a good reason! It’s not something I am proud of.”

Innocently I countered. “All families have black sheep in their past. It’s not something to get worked up over.”

“It’s not past history I am worried about.”

I wondered if Dad had a secret. Could he have fathered a child my mother knew nothing about?

His hysterical laugh told me otherwise.

The knocking intensified and my father wilted.

“I never talked about my family because I didn’t want you to know about the murder gene, passed from father to son. You have put our family at extreme risk.”

I remembered hearing the FBI used DNA from ancestry sites to solve cold cases and realized what my father was afraid of: the DNA he left behind.

 

The Last Dragon Slayers

The Last Dragon Slayers

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. This week’s intriguing photo is courtesy of SPF contributor, C.E. Ayr. 

If you are interested in contributing your own story, or to see what others have written, please visit  Sunday Photo Fiction

SPF 10-07-18 CE AYR 4
Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

They called themselves the Last Dragon Slayers. The geriatric group of six men living at the senior home met every day in the common room, between checkers and the lunch special. Most days, they relived the details of glorious battles, bloodier and more dangerous with each re-telling. The staff and other residents took little notice of their bragging. Everyone knew dementia and delusions were expected as one grew old.

The youngest in the group was Harry, a spry 87-year old man who showed no sign of senility. Which is why he understood the urgency of the broadcast in the evening news.

“The fools think it is global warming,” he said. “Don’t they realize a dragon has awakened.”

The old men hung their heads; there was no one to take their place.

On Sunday, Harry’s son and his family made a dutiful trip to visit Pop as they called him. Harry noticed his 15-year old grandson spellbound by a book.

“What you reading?”  Harry asked.

“It’s magna, called Fairy Tail. Its about a dragon, but you wouldn’t understand.”

Harry smiled. “Oh I understand more than you think.” Leaning closer, he whispered, “How would you like to be a real Dragon Slayer?”