Lyin’ Eyes

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Photo Credit: Eric Wicklund

I knew I was in trouble.

As soon as I walked in the door, Mom demanded to know where I had been. I didn’t want to tell her Jimmy and I stopped to have a coke at the corner store because that would lead to a range of questions about where I got the money and a series of more lies.

I told her had stayed after school, to help my teacher. I regretted the words as soon as they left my month.

Let’s go see Aunt May.

The old woman living at the end of Main Street wasn’t really my aunt. It was a title given her out of respect for her longevity. I never knew her true age, but her leathery gray skin screamed of ancientness.

As I said, I knew I was in trouble because Aunt May was the town lie detector. One look at you with those piercing green eyes and the secrets of your soul were exposed.

I didn’t need to think about my decision. I knew the facts would come out, one way or another. I saved us both a trip to the end of Main Street and told my mom everything.

 

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 Eric Wicklund.

Friday Fictioneers – One Last Look

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Photo Credit Dale Rogerson

Eric turned to look at the old apartment building one last time. When the fire alarm sounded, the residents hesitated, believing this was another drill. Eric yelled ‘Fire!’ and that got them moving. Some lingered close to the front entrance. Unfortunate collateral damage, but nothing he could do. The mission was too important to give anyone warning. Continue reading

Sunday Photo Fiction:The Devoted One

The Embrace

@c.e. ayr

She did not need to read the tattered letter in her hand. She knew the words by heart:

My dearest Daisy;

How I have missed you! Time away from you has been torture. All I want is to hear your voice and feel you in my arms. You will be glad to know that I have permission to come home. I arrive at the bus station at 4:00 pm on Friday. Counting the days until we meet again, I am faithfully yours….”

Daisy sits on the wooden bench nearest the doors, intently watching as passengers hurry to find those who wait for them. She notices a young couple eagerly embrace, holding on to the moment for as long as they can. Smiling, they walk away, hand in hand.

The old clock tower chimes four times It won’t be long now, she thinks. Any minute and I will see his face.

As shadows began to fall, Daisy realizes that her lover will not arrive today. As she has done hundreds of times before, Daisy picks up the small suitcase that holds all she owns and walks toward the homeless shelter, three blocks away. There is always next Friday.

 

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 c.e. ayr

Sunday Photo Fiction: Weedy Road

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A Mixed Bag

Every small town has a horror story. Ours was the house at the end of Weedy Road. Unsolved murders lend themselves to folklore and for us, the killer evolved into a gruesome figure; almost reptilian. It became a teenage rite of passage to visit the road on a moonless night, and so we went; me, Jack, and Harry. Jack drove his ’73 Impala, Harry sat shotgun, and I was in the back. The old Weedy house looked more like its name-sake than ever before.

We sat while the car idled.

“Turn the engine off, otherwise, it doesn’t count.” Harry knew all the rules.

Jack reluctantly moved his hand toward the ignition, paused, then turned the key.

The silence was earsplitting. No one dared breath.

I jumped out of my skin when Harry spoke.

“I knew it was a gag,” said Harry. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jack twisted the key to the right.

Nothing.

Our breathing intensified as Jack frantically turned the key. Miraculously, the engine started.

Gunning the accelerator, Jack reversed and raced toward town. Another tale for 1st hour on Monday.

Except for the part where I saw something standing in the middle of the road.

 

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 A Mixed Bag.

 

 

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Fate Awaits

Traitor's Gate

A Mixed Bag

The marriage lasted a mere 28 days; now Mary found herself locked in the tower, awaiting her fate. Admittedly, her situation was dire, but at least they had not brought her through the Traitor’s Gate. Unlike her sister Jane, death was off the table.

Still, death would be preferable to a life without Thomas. Mary, dwarfishly proportioned, was an abomination, Courtiers made no attempt to conceal their titters as she passed. Not Thomas, however. He looked beyond her ugliness and saw purity. Now, because of her, his love had become his death sentence. She cursed that first drop of royal blood that contaminated her life, and her parents who conceived such an atrocity.

My birth sealed my fate, she thought.

Maybe if she had been less rash. Her cousin may not have granted permission to marry, but not asking; that was unforgivable. Now she would never know.

The clank of the large iron door jerked Mary away from her thoughts. The Queen’s guard stood in the portal.

“Her majesty awaits,” he said stoically.

Nothing could have changed things, she told her herself. Fate controls our destiny.

Reminding herself that she was a Grey, Mary boldly walked through the door.

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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 A Mixed Bag.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction – The Fixer

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He just wants to meet up for coffee, she told herself. Nothing more.

Yet Olivia could not stop thinking about her last meeting with David. It had come on the heels of a heated affair that ended badly. She cried uncontrollably and David, her protector since childhood, told her he would fix everything. When her ex-lover suddenly disappeared, Olivia wondered if David had something to do with it. It wouldn’t have been the first time David fixed things.

The dark clouds hanging over the Piazza Navona reflected Olivia’s apprehension. Could David know about her last fling with the young art student she met at the fountain? His dark eyes and arresting smile had seized her attention. They met three times in secret,  and she never learned his name. Safer not to know. Safer for him.

Anxiously waiting, she picked up a newspaper sitting on the next table. Although her Italian was not perfect, panic erupted as she read the caption under the photo of a young man with dark eyes:

Officials search for art student missing for over a week.

Hearing a sound, her stomach heaved at seeing David standing in front of her.

“Ah… I see you’ve heard about Carlos.”

 

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 Sally-An Hodgekiss.