Sunday Photo Fiction – Never Goodbye

Sunday Photo Fiction – Never Goodbye

 

208-08-august-13th-2017
Photo Prompt by Al Forbes

Theirs’s was a romance that was never quite in synch.

They met by chance, in an off-the-beaten-path coffee shop, far from home. In that absent-minded way of his that she learned to love, he bumped into her, spilling coffee all over her blouse.

Embarrassed and apologetic, he offered to pay for the cleaning.

“Only if you have dinner with me,” she said. “Wear the bow-tie. It suits you.”

They hit it off at once, soul-mates one might say. Both were avid travelers, but their travels rarely took them to the same place. For many years they never knew when they would see each other again, but he was always there when she needed him.

Sadly, nothing lasts forever and they knew their time together was about to end. Trouble was, he did not like endings.

They met for the last time where it all began. She bought the coffee. He told her the only way he could accept her leaving was to believe they might see each other again someday.

“I must believe it is possible,” he said.

“What would you have me say?” she asked.

“Say good-bye as if you will be coming back.”

“Well then…See you around.”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short 200-word story inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by Al Forbes.  The final dialogue of this story was loosely taken from the May 18, 2013 Doctor Who episode called “The Name of the Doctor”, in which River Song and The Doctor say good-bye for the last time.

Stone Angels

Stone Angels

cee's fun photo challengeI love photography and I love cemeteries, so imagine my excitement when I found a photography challenge that combined both together. My entries for Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge – Tombstones and Cemeteries  are a series of angel headstones. I hope you enjoy them.

Angel in the Tree
Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding.
Angel with Flowers
Photo Credit : Susan Spaulding

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Deadly Curiousity (Friday Fictioneers)

Deadly Curiousity (Friday Fictioneers)

 

ceayr2
Photo Prompt by C.E. Ayr

Charlie got what Granddad called, ‘a wild hair.’

“Ever wonder about that rock?” The black boulder seemed out of place in the middle of the cow pasture.

“Granddad said stay about from it,” brother Jimmy replied.

“I bet that’s where he buried his gold from Alaska. Race you!”

Upon reaching the rock, Charlie noticed a large hollow. Instead of finding treasure, Charlie’s hand found a nest of copperheads. His screams filled the air. Then Jimmy felt a bite on his foot.

As deadly venom filled his veins, Jimmy turned to his dying brother.

“Granddad say stay away from the rock.”

 

This story was inspired by Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s . Friday Fictioneer’s. This week’s photo prompt is provided by C.E. Ayr

In Fear (Friday Fictioneers)

In Fear (Friday Fictioneers)

janet-webb-french-still-life
Photo prompt by Janet Webb

Sandra stood at the front window, watching. Outside, the neighbor boy tossed a ball in the air and across the street, old Mrs. Hudson watered the roses that lined the front of her house.
Maybe I will go out today, she thought.
In an instant, Sandra’s heart began to pound as a wave of heat reddened her face. She felt dizzy and dreaded throwing up. Tears swelled in Sandra’s eyes. Once again, disappointment overshadowed her earlier good mood.
In time, the fear subsidies. But Sandra would not be leaving the house today.
Maybe tomorrow.

 

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This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s July 14, 2017 , a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Janet Webb.

 

 

2024 (Friday Fictioneers)

2024 (Friday Fictioneers)

Photo Prompt by Claire Sheldon

The words litter the walls of my cubicle:

Happiness is Productivity

Every morning, I dive into bliss, glad to be fruitful. Robotics have replaced meaningful jobs and attending University is unattainable, except for the uber-wealthy. Fearing the words ‘welfare state,’ the Government creates jobs for workers like me, so we too stay productive.

I am a ‘Stapler.’

Daily, I receive stacks of paper, filled with meaningless words. I separate, stack, and staple. Eight hours a day. At the end of my shift, I gather my packets and pass them to Pete in the next cubicle.

Pete is the ‘Un-stapler.’

 

This story was inspired not only by the great George Orwell’s 1984, but also by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Clare Sheldon

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Grandmother’s Secret

Sunday Photo Fiction: Grandmother’s Secret

© A Mixed Bag 2011
© A Mixed Bag 2011

Danielle was enchanted by the dragonflies dashing about her head. The small creatures, zooming from place to place, captivated her attention. Quick as lightning, she could barely keep her eyes on them. How she wished she could touch one. Danielle extended her finger in the air. Immediately, one of the elegant creatures rested on the tip.

“Quickly Joe, take a photo.”

Using his iPhone, her brother Joe captured several shots before the dragonfly flew away.

Later that day, Danielle visited her Grandmother and showed her the photo of her and the dragonfly.

“Just call me the mother of dragon…flies.” Dany laughed at her own joke.

“You come by it naturally, my dear,” said her grandmother. “I am the mother of dragons, and these small creatures are nothing less than the remains of those great beasts.”

Dany noticed her grandmother was reading Game of Thrones again. For as long as she could remember, Grandma Dany claimed to be the real Daenerys Targaryen, brought to this world on the back of very own dragon. Her parents told her this was nothing more than the delusions of an old woman, but Dany knew better. The truth was living in the basement below.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short, 200-word story inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo was provided by A Mixed Bag.

 As a side note, writer’s write from their own experience and this story is no exception. There is always a little truth to the writer’s story. As reader, it is up to you to sort between fantasy and fact.

Dragonfly 3
© Spauldis 2017

 

Fear of the Dark (Friday Fictioneers)

Fear of the Dark (Friday Fictioneers)

Dark Alley
Photo Prompt by Rochelle Wisoff–Fields

Kerri stared down the dark, narrow alleyway. What to do?

She left the party on foot, needing to clear her head. Now tired, all she wanted was to sleep off the effects of the alcohol. The alley was a shortcut.

Decision made.

Halfway through, Kerri stopped. Were those footsteps behind her? Overwhelmed by fear, Kerri quicken her pace. The pounding footfall  of her pursuer echoed in her ears. Reaching the exit safely, a defiant Kerri turned around, and saw nothing in the darkness.

That is when she felt the wire across her neck, slowly tightening.

 

This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s June 30, 2017, , a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.


 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Great Escape

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Great Escape

203 06 June 18th 2017
Photo Credit: A Mixed Bag

From her lone window, Nellie saw freedom. Her prison stood atop of a hill, miles from town with acres of open land between the two. Traditional escape attempts would be impossible for there was no cover. Except darkness, and that is when they released the dogs.

She must think of another way. Before insanity set in. Read more

Sunday Photo Fiction:The Devoted One

Sunday Photo Fiction:The Devoted One

The Embrace
@c.e. ayr

She did not need to read the tattered letter in her hand. She knew the words by heart:

My dearest Daisy;

How I have missed you! Time away from you has been torture. All I want is to hear your voice and feel you in my arms. You will be glad to know that I have permission to come home. I arrive at the bus station at 4:00 pm on Friday. Counting the days until we meet again, I am faithfully yours….”

Daisy sits on the wooden bench nearest the doors, intently watching as passengers hurry to find those who wait for them. She notices a young couple eagerly embrace, holding on to the moment for as long as they can. Smiling, they walk away, hand in hand.

The old clock tower chimes four times It won’t be long now, she thinks. Any minute and I will see his face.

As shadows began to fall, Daisy realizes that her lover will not arrive today. As she has done hundreds of times before, Daisy picks up the small suitcase that holds all she owns and walks toward the homeless shelter, three blocks away. There is always next Friday.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short 200-word story inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by c.e. ayr

Memory Unleashed (Sunday Photo Fiction)

Memory Unleashed (Sunday Photo Fiction)

A little late for last week but the story has been floating in my head so might as well give it a home.  A little dark and disturbing, so consider yourself warned.

photo credit @Mixed Bag

“Make yourself comfortable,” the doctor says.

I lie down on the overstuffed couch, listening to her soothing voice and the tick-tock of the pendulum clock on the wall. As she speaks, the years of my life pass like a film in reverse.

“How old are you?” the doctor asks?

“Five.”

“And, where are you?”

“At the carnival. Mommy took me and Charlotte because Daddy was mad.”

“What do you see?”

I smile. “The merry-go-round. I climb into the Viking ship and wave at mommy. The music starts and I am going around and around and up and down. Mommy is laughing and waving.

“Where’s Charlotte?”

I frown. “She is in the carriage.”

“What happens next.”

“I yell ‘Mommy, watch me!’ But she is looking at Charlotte, laughing.

“Continue Michael, what happens next?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you must.”

“Mommy is screaming, Charlotte is not moving; her face is blue and I am crying.”

“Why are you crying Michael?”

“Because mommy loves Charlotte more than me. “

“Michael, what happened to Charlotte?”

I killed her you bitch, what do you think happened.

“Michael?”

I open my eyes and smile.

“Michael is gone. It’s just me now.”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction April 9, 2017