Buried Truth

Time again for Al’s Sunday Photo Fiction. A weekly photo prompt to generate 100 – 200 words of creative fiction based on each weeks photo. Another of the prompts that’s easily addictive. Get yourself over and have a go.

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The first pebble represented wealth; Jenny rolled it in her palm running her thumb and forefinger over the smooth patena.

The second represented truth; she clutched it in her palm and sealed her fingers tightly round the stone.

The third was knowledge; knowing too much was what had brought her on this holiday.

The fourth was compassion; she skimmed over it without picking it up.

The fifth was forgiveness; she hesitated but skimmed past that one as well.

The sixth was renewal; she picked it up and passed it back and forth between each hand.

The seventh was the future; it sat in her outstretched palm, the rough edges seeming to burn into her skin. She dropped it back into the sand as if it had been on fire.

“What a load of crap” she blistered, pushing past the others and the strange little monk who’d been showing them around. She went back to the coach muttering about a waste of money and time. A tiny bead of sweat slipped down her forehead, then another and another. She opened her hand to scratch the itch that was driving her mad, and a faint hint of orange spread across her palm. Letters slowly formed in her skin,                                  K    I    L    L    E    R.

She thought of her husband Jeff, buried under the patio with a 10inch steak knife in his back. Her hand got suddenly warmer.

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6 thoughts on “Buried Truth

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