Author: Danny James

“Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.”

Last One Standing

This post is written for Friday Fictioneer’s. The challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less. My story follows the picture prompt below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

He avoided most of the other anniversaries. After ten years things started aging. The heroes of high school footfall games returned from wars damaged both physically and mentally. Their minds numbed by what they had witnessed. The destruction of an entire country happened before their glazed eyes. For the vulnerable, and there were many, their sanity ended there. 

Scanning the gymnasium he could recognize one or two. They had started to crumble. Some were  bent over, a shell of their former self. Others folded into their wheelchairs. His former heroes lay like Roman ruins.  

Fear For Your Life

I had a late departure on my last day in Vietnam. My tour guide offered to take me around Ho Chi Minh City. Talk about fear. On several occasions I felt like we were going to crash because of all the cluster of motorcycles and the crowed crossings. Nobody wanted to yield the right of way.

Photo Credit === Danny James

RDP = Cluster

Word of the day = Crossing

Wasted Time

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less. My story follows the picture prompt below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

A little girl in a pink pinafore dress.

Her parents dreamed of nothing less.

Years spent in fruitless quest.

It was all worth while they said when pressed.

Time zipped by at record speed.

No, she was a special breed.

She never considered any wedding vows.

She said her lines, she took her bows.

A star was to be her fate.

Now she lives behind a rusted gate.

RDP Friday: ELDRITCH

Photo Credit === Danny James

The treasures from our travels are always a topic of conversation at our house. Alone, late at night, they want to talk to me. They can turn nasty at times. The eldritch horror of their deaths haunt me,

Hardscramble

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less using the picture prompt below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

I remember watching my grandfather squatting in front of the black and white television in his bid overalls ranting at all the political candidates .

Together with his brothers they dug a basement and then moved his home over it. My Uncle Luther ran his tractor into the basement wall.

I followed behind him and his tractor picking up rocks so the field could be planted next season. He couldn’t afford the cost of burying of any family member. I heard stories of family members being buried under those rocks.

I’m still superstitious about homes build with rocks.

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