I’ve written so little fiction lately, I thought I’d join in the fab Sunday Photo Fiction this morning. 200 words of fiction based around the prompt provided. Follow the link to join in.
Cara Brown knew who she was. You could tell by the way that she walked, the way she held her head, looked up at the sky and said bring it on.
I didn’t know where she lived, I don’t think anybody did. She was a bright star we worshipped from afar, never daring to get too close.
Perhaps we were frightened that she wasn’t real; that the dream of her could unravel and shatter into a thousand tiny fragments of disappointment and loss.
But then one day she was gone.
And life seemed that little bit duller. It was as though the main light had been switched off and we were only left with the afterglow.
It was months before the cave was found. Hidden behind large stone boulders, overlapping in such a way to look as if the cave was completely sealed. It wasn’t until you were stood right in front that you actually saw the opening.
Inside they found clothes, cooking pots and a large ornately framed mirror, mottled with age and cracked down the middle.
Charcoal drawings covered the walls, frantic and menacing, each one the face of Cara Brown.
If only the cliffs had eyes…
Another re-visit for Friday Fictioneers. A slightly amended version from Sept 2013. Who’d have thought 3 years later, writing 100 words of fiction for a weekly photo prompt would still be so much fun.
Photo Copyright : Jan Wayne Fields
She flailed and kicked, desperately trying to keep her head above the water, but exhaustion was pulling her down. She fought against its hold, craving the air just above the surface. Nearly there. Almost there. Again she went under.
A liquid vice imprisoned her limbs, each futile stroke lighter than the last. She tasted the water and the salt of her tears.
As the darkness consumed her, calling her to sleep, she whispered goodbye to the disappearing boat. Her husband Robert, the only beneficiary of her million dollar life insurance, sat on the deck whispering a much drier farewell.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 words of fiction based around the photo prompt provided. This week I’m using my ‘get out of jail’ card and re-posting the piece I wrote for the original prompt back in May 2014…
Text messages between a very late groom and his best man –
Another Friday Fictioneers. Another 100 words of fiction based around the photo prompt provided. Come on in and join the party.
Photo Copyright : Jan Marler Morrill
Nearly free. The alleyways, the door fronts, even the sky seemed foreign and unfamiliar. The sun filtered between the gaps in the rooftops and each time it dipped, a cold chill crisscrossed her back.
Someone was following.
Don’t look back.
She walked faster, gripping the handle of her tote so tightly her knuckles were translucent.
Just a few more yards.
Hot breath burned against her cheek “I told you I would find you”
The cold stone walls were closing in. There was nobody to hear her scream.
A different freedom beckoned…
Text & Adaption : Helen Midgley
Original Image : morguefile.com/search/morguefile/13/abstract/pop