Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. Thanks to C.E. Ayr for this week’s inspiration. If you are interested in contributing your own story, or to see what others have written, please visit Sunday Photo Fiction
The town clock chimed 12, signaling the gentleman to make his way toward the river. He sat on the stone bench under a willow tree, waiting. His dapper dress suggested a man of means and distinction. Yet those who passed by paid him no more attention to him than they did brushing their own teeth.
At 12:08, he crossed bridge that separated the financial district from the merchants. No doubt which side of the river the gentleman belonged; he was a trusted advisor and guardian of the town’s wealth. At the center-point of the bridge he noticed a granite plaque. Age had faded the script, but the gentleman could recite the words by heart.
Henry Adams jumped to his death from this spot October 29, 1929.
At 12:18, the gentleman climbed to the top of the railing as he had done every year since the day of The Crash. As he leapt from the bridge, a young boy clicked a selfie from the same spot. Disappointed with the blurred image captured in the background, the boy deleted the photo and tried again.
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
‘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.
It has been quite a while since I participated in one of Cee’s Photo Challenges but today is the day I get back into my photography groove. This week’s challenge is bicycles, tricycles, motorcycles, and wagons. I did a deep dive in my archives and didn’t come up with much, so maybe between now and the next challenge (Tuesday) I will see if I can add a few more.
This one has been used before but in black and white. I much prefer the color. A bit fuzzy because it was taken behind glass. Not to mention the several glasses of tequila I had before taking it.
My excursion to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally a few years ago provided me with more photographs of motorcycles than I will ever need. I couldn’t decide on a singe cycle, so I used a group photo.
I’m not sure I would like traveling far in one of these wagons
These old-school bicycles caught my eye. The bright yellow didn’t hurt.