Vail

Vail

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. This week’s photo is one I took. No surprise, it was taken in Vail Colorado.   If you are interested in contributing your own story, or to see what others have written, please visit  Sunday Photo Fiction

Bicycles
Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

‘Thea wanted a new life. Vail was exactly what she was looking for: snow-capped mountains, open-spaces, and green living.’

‘Thea sold her car and bought a yellow bicycle. On days when distance was more than her legs could handle, Thea rode the bus. That’s how she met Jack.’

‘Handsome and charismatic, Jack was a dream-come-true.’

‘When Jack caught her staring one to many times, he invited her to join him in conversation. It was as if they had known each other for years.’

‘Thea began spending all her free time with him; she stopped seeing her old friends.

 ‘Thea became obsessed with Jack.’

‘There was something about Jack that was just not right.’

 

Two hikers discovered Thea’s yellow bicycle alongside the mountain road. It did not take long to find the blood-soaked snow bank where her bludgeoned body lay.

‘The bicycle ride had been Jack’s idea,’ her friend Becky told the police.

Detective Osborne avoided looking at the crime photos and closed the case file. He had seen enough. There was a monster on the loose, and Osborne knew this was not his first kill. Picking up the phone, he dialed the Seattle homicide division.

I think Jack’s struck again.

 

Next Friday

Next Friday

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. This week’s photo is courtesy of 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 20190303 CE AYR
Photo Courtesy of C.E. Ayr

My Dearest Love

How I have missed you! Every moment we are apart is torture. I want so much to hear your sweet voice and feel you in my arms. I have good news! I am coming home. Meet me at the train station Friday at 4:00 pm. I am counting the days until we meet again.

The station was busy for a Friday night and Daisy worried she would miss Bill when he arrived. Everyone seemed to be in such a rush. She noticed an empty spot on a bench next to the tracks and sat down. Daisy gripped the tattered letter and replayed his words from memory. She had waited for this day a long time. As the old clock tower chimed four times, her heart leaped. Daisy pulled her fingers through her graying hair and straightened her dress.

It won’t be long now. Any minute and I will see his face.

By 4:30, Daisy realized Bill was not arriving today. As she has done hundreds of times before, Daisy patiently picked up the small suitcase that held all she owned and walked three blocks to the homeless shelter. There was always next Friday.