Photo Prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
He left and darkness fell.
For days she hid, reluctant to share the news. Plates collected in the sink, bags of rubbish gathered by the door. She ignored the red light flashing on the telephone. The candles she burned did not mask the smells of stale food and unwashed body. Her flat became a temple of the lost forever.
One day the pain ebbed a little, and she opened the window for air before returning to her nest on the settee. The twittering song of a visiting finch filled the silence. She opened her eyes, ready for the new day.
A shout out to the amazing Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com. She organises the photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers.
Authors write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work. If you are a writer of short fiction, join in and let your imagination feed us with your stories.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
The man’s mouth moved but her mind refused to accept his words. A pain, so sharp that she struggled to breathe causing her to gasp as she reached out to touch the motionless fingers. Eventually she raised her head, looked up at the man and nodded.
‘If you’re ready, we’ll take him to the vault. The process will begin immediately.’
‘Will he .. When he … Will there be pain?’
‘We don’t think so. It should be like waking after a long sleep.’
The woman nodded and then, she rummaged in her bag. ‘Take his teddy. He’ll need his friend in that strange world. ‘
Thank you to Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com who organises the Friday Fictioneers. Authors write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on their work. If you are a writer of short fiction, join us and see where your imagination takes you.
Listen my son. Can you hear them? Can you see them?
What’s that you say? There’s nothing there. Oh but there is. Little creatures, call them fairies if you wish. See how they swoop above the water, dash between the plants.
One of them is your mother. They took her to be their queen.
Which one do you think? The one with the purple wings. Yes you’re right. She is the most beautiful.
Wave your arms my love. Wave your arms for your little boy.
I am happy to return to weaving stories in one of my favourite forms – short fiction- and am grateful that rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com continues to run the successful Friday Fictioneers. I have been absent for some time, busy with the publication of my novel Silencio and writing my second full length work.