First Date

209-08-august-20th-2017

photo credit: A Mixed Bag (Al Forbes)

“Are you kidding me! This has got to be the worse movie ever!”

Deb’s remarks vibrated throughout entire theater, answered with a resounding ‘SHHHHH’.

Wyatt tried to calm her down.

“Baby, please, you’re disturbing everyone.”

Deb lowered her voice but not her insolence.

“I can’t believe you brought me to this…. whatever you call this movie.”

Plan 9 from Outer Space. It’s a classic.”

“It’s crap Wyatt. OMG, do you see the strings attached to the planets? What kind of person brings a first date to a movie like this?”

“I thought you’d like it. You said you liked Sci-Fi.”

“I like Star Wars. Real science fiction. My little brother could do better with his Legos and a point-and-shoot camera.”

A few moments later, Deb stood up and announced she was leaving.

“Can you get me some popcorn when you come back?”

“No Wyatt, I’m leaving the theater. For good. And don’t bother calling me again.”

After Deb walked out, the man in the seat behind Wyatt tapped him on the shoulder.

“Man, tough break, but good riddance is all I can say. How could anyone not like this stuff.”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. As a fan of horrible science fiction, this was a no-brainer. 

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.

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Red Rider

12-j-hardy-carroll-06-august-2017

Photo Credit: J. Hardy Carroll

Marcus Darksmyth, the Wolverine of Wall Street, eyes the tele-monitors hanging on the walls of his massive office. A brilliant man with a tenancy for evil, Darksmyth craved chaos. Today, using his influence with the corrupt police department, he placed off-limit signs on a perfectly good stretch of a busy sidewalk. Darksmyth chuckles as he watches countless commuters approach the barricade, override their instincts to continue and instead race across the busy street.

“This town needs are more men with balls,” Darksmyth would often say to his boardroom minions.

How he hated the lemmings of the world.

Darksmyth soon notices a young female strangely dressed in tight black leather pants, knee-high boots, and a bright red hooded cape approach the sign. If nothing else, she was pleasing to the eye. Unexpectedly, she looks straight into the camera transmitting the images to Darksmyths office. With a smile and a wink, the woman tosses the sign into a pile of rubble and marches down the sidewalk, followed by a throng of others.

The bristles on the back of Darksmyth’s neck stand up as excitement fills his being. Life suddenly became more interesting now that he was aware of the Red Rider.

 

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 J. Hardy Carroll

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Secret Agent Man

206-07-july-23rd-2017

Photo Prompt by Al Forbes

After months of secret negotiations, we reached an agreement. The information I held was so top-secret that the only logical place for exchange was in plain sight. Concerned for my own safety, I insisted on a place public and what’s more public than the London Eye. I arrived early, suspicious of a set-up. I may just be a reporter but I’ve read enough crime fiction to know that ‘come alone’ is just a suggestion. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, I entered the glass pod as it slowly inched its way above the London skyline. My contact stood next to the window railing. The pink flamingo tie gave him away. I moved next to him and we exchanged pleasantries, as tourists do. Then came the fun part. I reached inside my jacket for the envelop. Proof that could destroy democracy. My hands shook and the coolness on my brow came from sweat.

Crime novels don’t lie. I felt the sharp stab at my left side, producing a slight dampness near my ribcage. To my right, pink flamingo tie whispered, “You’re coming with us.”

I looked through the glass at London below, knowing it would be for the last time.

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short, 200-word story inspired by a photograph. Many thanks go to Al Forbes for supplying this week’s photo.

200-words

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Home Sweet Home

11-07-july-16-2017-mike-vore-oh-my-photos

Photo courtesy of Mike Vore

Quitting time at the Tasty Burger came none too soon for Harry. It had been a long day and he was ready for home.

“Heading out Frank… need anything?”

The manager of the small burger joint marveled at his star employee. Top student and star pitcher, on top of a full-time job. How did he do it all?

“Hold on a sec and I’ll drive you home”

Harry replied with his often-repeated response.

“Got a ride, but thanks.” With that, Harry quickly walked out the door.

Harry was good liar. He came by it honestly; his dad had been a good liar too. Like when he said he was going to work every morning, but instead went to the local bar. And how the old run-down house would someday be worth something.

“People hear what they want to hear,” his dad told him during a moment of sobriety.

“Never let anyone know you are on the down and out” was another of his quotable quotes.

Words were all Harry’s dad left him after running off a year ago, looking for a clean start without the constraints of a wife and son.

Words, and that shabby house Harry called home.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short, 200-word story inspired by a photograph. Many thanks go to Mike Vore for supplying this week’s photo.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Family Business

205-07-july-9th-2017

Photo Prompt courtesy of Al Forbes

 

Diana stood on the second-floor landing, smiling down on the patrons of the White Horse Inn.

A good crowd for a Saturday, she thought. All because of me.

Granted, the White Horse served a decent meal, and the brew far superior to that of the other watering holes in the neighborhood. But Diana knew they came to see her.

The pub had been a family business for over a 100-years. At 16, she took her place at the bar, serving beer and bitters. Many a young man frequented the inn, in hope of attracting her favor. But Diana only had eyes for Charles Stroud, a gutsy military man stationed nearby. She fell in love, he into lust and soon they married.

Charles turned out to be ladies’ man. His unfaithfulness broke her heart. A rope broke her neck.

Show time.

Diana placed the noose around her neck, like she did 75 years before. The clamor of voices quelled as all eyes turned toward the stairs. Most would be disappointed, she knew. Not everyone can see a ghost.

Tomorrow Diana would once again go to the old church next door and confess her sin. Father Michael would be waiting.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short, 200-word story inspired by a photograph. Many thanks go to Al Forbes for supplying this week’s photo.

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