A day at the beach

Every afternoon, Tommy and his mother strolled two blocks to the beach. At three years old, Tommy displayed a remarkable talent for building sandcastles. His father boasted that Tommy was ordained to become the next Frank Lloyd Wright. His practical mother pretended no such grandeur. To her, Tommy was just a little boy who loved playing in the sand.

 

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Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

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Seminole Justice

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Photo Credit: Sandra Crook

Under the shade of the Execution Tree, the stoic Lighthorseman pinned a white paper heart on Pul-musky’s chest and placed a blindfold over eyes. Killing another man carried the ultimate penalty and Seminole justice was swift. In the gap between life and death, Pul-musky regretted  the night he killed John Proctor in a drunken brawl, if only for his family’s sake. His pounding heart muffled the sound of the executioner’s gun fire. With precision, the bullet hit the white paper target. Pul-musky’s blood soaked the ground, feeding the Execution Tree for the last time.

Friday Fictioneer’s is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Sandra Crook for this week’s prompt

 This is the story of the last execution of a Native American by the Seminole Tribe police force, the Lighthorsemen. The Execution Tree stood in Wewoka, my Oklahoma home town. It was cut down in the 1920s but salvaged for history and now is on permanent display at the Seminole County Museum. Another symbol of justice, the Whipping Tree, still stands in front of the courthouse. Below is a photo I took during a recent visit.

Seminole Whipping Tree in front of Court House, Wewoka, OK

Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

Muster Station Message

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Photo Prompt: Al Forbes

The warning blasted throughout the ship:

This is not a drill. Proceed to your muster station.

How can a ship sink when the sea is calm and the weather fine? I learn from panicked voices of a fire on deck one. I hear the word ‘bomb.’ The situation is surreal. I retrieve my lifejacket and head toward Muster Station 3 where I notice both men and woman boarding the lifeboats. How can that be? Isn’t it always women and children first? Then again, my only experience with a sinking ship was the movie Titanic.

A young woman catches my attention. I grab her hand, hoping she will prove strong enough for us both. When it is my turn to board the lifeboat, I turn to my companion to say we will be okay; instead she shoves a worn leather book at me. Before receding into the crowd, she mouths: make sure it gets into the right hands. The lifeboat plunges into the ocean and I never see the woman again.

As we motor toward safety, I open the book and read words more frightening than the sinking ship:

Citizens of the United States…. you are in danger.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. Al Forbes (A Mixed Bag) provided this week’s challenging photo. 

 

 

 

Brotherly Love

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Photo Prompt – Douglas M. MacIlroy

Gilbert fell from his chair when the email arrived. The attached photo of one of North America’s rarest birds was the holy grail among ornithologists. His brother George, unskilled in the art of bird identification, did not realize the value of such a find. He must be warned.

“Whatever you do, don’t release that bird!”, Gilbert gasped in the phone.

Gilbert underestimated George’s abilities and his need to right past wrongs. A course in Photoshop taught George all he needed to know to pull off the prank. As the small bird flew into freedom, George laughed.

 

Friday Fictioneer’s is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Douglas M. MacIlroy for this week’s prompt

Moonlight Getaway

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Photo Prompt: Ted Strutz

 

A full moon hung on the edge of the horizon. Only a few more hours of twilight; they should hurry. The fugitives boarded the boat already packed with supplies. They would be a million miles away before they needed more.

As Mark pushed the boat away from the docks, police sirens blared in the distance. Lisa’s heart pounded, not from fear but from the arousal that came from being with a dangerous man.

She was his Bonnie; he was her Clyde.

As the sirens passed, Lisa relaxed. It would be days before they found the bodies.

Friday Fictioneer’s is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Ted Strutz for this week’s prompt.

 

Mother’s Last Laugh

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photo prompt: A Mixed Bag

For twenty years, the children of Mrs. Adeline McCarthy impatiently waited for their wealthy mother’s death. Finally, the crazy old woman succumbed to a lingering illness. Harold and his sister Lizzie listened as the lawyer began reading the will.

“For the record, I am reading the last will and testament of Adeline McCarthy, dated September 1, 2017.

Both children gasped in horror! A recent change must mean one or the other would receive less than expected. Some devilry must be at work.

‘…to my son, Harold. Your love of money did not go unnoticed. Therefore, I leave you $1.00. Use it wisely.”

Harold glared at Lizzie with accusing eyes. He always knew she was a conniving woman.

“…and to my daughter Lizzie. You love animals; therefore, I leave you my priceless fox stole. May you wear it proudly to your P.E.T.A. protests”

Lizzie fainted.

Unable to contain himself, Harold blasted. “What about the money!”

“There is no money. Everything went to charity before she died. Frankly, you both got more than you deserved.

Harold raised an imaginary glass of champagne. “Cheers Mother, may you rot in hell.”

Turning to his hysterical sister, he chuckled. “fox stole… that is priceless.”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. A Mixed Bag provided this week’s challenging photo.

Rumors

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Photo Prompt: J. Hardy Carroll

The Madison Shoe factory closed 50 years ago. Rumor was the owner walked in one day, fired everyone on the spot, then locked himself inside. A week later, the police found him hanging from the rafters. None of the normal suicide reasons applied; he just killed himself. His son tried to sell the factory but there were no buyers. Like the old man cursed the building when he died. It belongs to the city now. Kids drive by on a dare, searching the windows for the old man. He never shows himself.

That’s the rumor at least.

Friday Fictioneer’s is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and J.Hardy Carroll for this week’s prompt.