Tag Archives: micro fiction

What’s for Dinner?

j-hardy-rubble

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

From the outside the building appeared amazingly intact.  Jish and Flav hid in the rubble as lookouts, guns at the ready.

Morque knocked the door down with his massive shoulder.  I stormed in, releasing a protective bolt.

It was no good, the building had long ago been ransacked and burnt out.

Poking through the wreckage, just in case, I heard a weapon discharge outside.  It was followed by a barrage of concentrated high energy particle beam weapons.

A Goony patrol had struck.  I knew my people.  The dilapidated restaurant was a strike out, but we’d have fresh meat for diner.

Continue reading

Diner

inside-the-diner

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

It stuck out, an old railcar pushed into a corner of town long after the trains had stopped running.  Back in the day, shiny chrome welcomed day trippers from Boston, but it had turned dingy and grey.

An old woman, the original owner, a perpetual cigarette hanging from her lip, served me.  The coffee was bitter, the eggs greasy and the toast older than the diner.  The next youngest customer had half a century on me.

I never returned.

I passed the empty lot today.  What the health-inspector found came back.  It’s been 20 years and I still felt nauseous.

Continue reading

Found

auto-aftermath

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Doug didn’t know the section of town, but he had received a call, a stranger with a tip.

The ruined house was squished between two others that had “Condemned” signs on the doors.

He hesitated, but there was no denying the car.  Covered in dents and missing a mirror, the car was spotless three years earlier when Em had disappeared on her 17th birthday..

Doug climbed the trash-covered steps and knocked.

There was no answer.

The door wasn’t locked.  He entered.

Em, thin and pale, stared with hollow eyes.  He picked her up and cuddled her.

“Let’s go home.”

— — —

Word count = 99

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky.

Place of Consequence

When he saw the name of the village, Sean Brown blanched.  It was destiny.

Great-grandfather Brown had fought and died in a trench just a few miles outside of town.  Grandfather Brown had been hidden in an attic in this town after the Germans shot down his airplane.  Celebrating family tradition, his father had proposed to his mother here while doing a grand tour.  This was a town of consequence for the Browns.

After years on the run, of all of the places in the world to finally be caught and arrested, didn’t it figure this was the place?

— — —

Word count = 99

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Sandra Crook.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky.

When the Frost Comes Early

frost-on-the-tombstone-liz

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

My withered hand moved a branch, allowing me to see Francis’ resting place.  The memories flooded back.

With young idealism, we had founded the commune.  We could overcome and create a place that radiated peace out to the world.  War was over because we wanted it.

The poetry, eating food we had grown with our own hands.

The first year was perfect.

But then they came to arrest our draft-dodging butts.  Francis was shot resisting arrest.  The rest of us were sent to the frontlines of ‘Nam.  The Vietcong took the others.  They are young forever, while I grow old.

— — — Continue reading

Great Aunt Isabel

shoes-and-books-by-magaly-guerrero

PHOTO PROMPT © Magaly Guerrero

Margret talked about her Great Aunt Isabel from the day I met her.  The matriarch of her clan had done everything, been everywhere.  Her family lived in this larger-than-life character’s enormous shadow.  Perhaps “great” was a title or description, not a generational mark.

I was nervous when I finally met her.   As we waited in the parlor, I noticed the stacks of oversized books here and there, and the random platform shoes tossed carelessly about.

When the giant of Margret’s family arrived, I went into shock.  She could barely see the table top, even seated on her stack of books. Continue reading

Final Celebration

dale-rogerson-pizza

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

I knew there was trouble when she left a message that she was celebrating our 15th anniversary.

It had been 15 years since the divorce, not the marriage.

Hey lady, we split because you had the affair, not me.  If my second marriage worked and yours didn’t, well, I’m sorry.

She didn’t answer or return my calls.  That was bad.

I used my spare to key to enter her apartment.  It was filthy.

I found the partially eaten pizza with the powder on top, the empty medicine vials and the half bottle of wine.  Then I saw the body.

Word count = 99

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo provided by © Dale Rogerson.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky.

Shadows of the Heart

jellico3

PHOTO PROMPT © Jellico’s Stationhouse

Mom tried to hide her tears when she was in my room.  I only smiled.

It was spring.  I knew Mom had gone down to the park for her walk.  I’m sure the park was filled with kids with their kites and balls and bikes.  I could imagine them playing and running and riding.

With my eyes I could only see the blank ceiling, but with my mind I could see more, the shadows etched in heart.  I knew what Mom saw as well; a shadow of my forever empty, lonely bicycle, the one that I’d never ride again.

Continue reading

Authentic Pirate Cruise!

fatima-fakier-deria1

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

The sign said, “Harbour Cruise on a Pirate Ship!”  The three-master seemed out of place amongst the huge cargo ships, but we had to do it.

I was surprised that before we reached open water, the captain steered us between two hulking vessels.  We were soon surrounded by skiffs, the masked crewmen all carrying AK-47s.

The passengers were taken out, distributed in the small boats and then blindfolded.  The skiffs motored around for a while before returning us to the pier, where blindfolds were removed.

By the time I realized my wallet was missing, the ship and sign were gone.

Continue reading

Security

Mansion through gate and trees

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

I had previously only seen the mansion from the road, the faded glory only a glimpse behind the fence and trees.  I knew that back in the day it was meant to be seen as a sign of wealth.  We were sneaking in the back way.

“Are you sure nobody watches this?”

“Positive.  Nobody will mess with their security.”

We entered the mansion in the pitch dark.

“You contradicted yourself there.”

“Nope.”

“So, if nobody watches the place, what’s their security?”

A glow met us at the end of the hall.  It resolved itself into a decomposing woman.

“Ghosts.”

— — — Continue reading