This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction. The challenge is to write a piece of fiction using ~ 200 words with the picture as your source of inspiration. My story follows the picture prompt.
He sits looking out of his cell at the guard passing by. Its been a long and strange trip from Queens, New York to here in Butner, North Carolina. A very long way from making that first $5,000 working as a lifeguard and installing sprinkler systems. Now he spends his time making name plates for desks and doors in the prison work shop. But in between he was worth billions. And he had all those celebrity friends. Where are they now?
He was truly shocked when the judge set his sentence at 150 years. Looking down at this prison smock he sees the number 6727-054. If the justice system has its way he will be looking at this same number until November 14, 2039.
What a family he thinks. He blames his parents for his wayward ways. After all they did get away with their crimes. He thinks of his wife and how the government stripped her of a fortune. He thinks of his sons. Now there is a terrible story. Together they are the ones who turned him in. Stupid kids. They thought they were being so honest and look what it got them. One takes his own life and the other dies of a rare disease.
He looks up at his cell mate in his bunk. Hell, he thinks, he doesn’t even know the word Ponzi!
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge: write a complete story, using the picture prompt below, in one hundred words or less. My story follow the picture below. Cheers!
Waking up in the middle of the street in Strasbourg at three in the morning was not the type of vacation they had in mind. They had planned the rail trip for months. It wasn’t the Orient Express but it wasn’t like hopping a freight train in the U.S.
It was all part Gary’s rehabilitation. Poor guy was terribly afraid of dark enclosed spaces. This was their first practice run.
“Listen Gary, when a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”
This post is written for Mondays Finish The Story Challenge.This is a unique flash fiction challenge where we are provided with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Our challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words. My story follows the picture prompt below. Other stories can be found by clicking on the link at the end of this post. Enjoy!“Hey boys, how ’bout y’all makin’ yer Ma some wind chimes?”
He always hated it when his mother talked like that. After all she was a college graduate.
Now she was out in Santa Fe, New Mexico at some old style hippie ranch trying her best to fit in with the locals. She was claiming she was from small town in Mississippi when she was actually from Scarsdale.
He knew why is mother needed those wind chimes. It would serve as a notice to would be visitors that dinner was over and that she was getting ready to let go with a big wind of her own. “Look out boys, those wind chimes are about to start a little dance of their own. Wee doggies that sure feels good. Everybody be better off getting up wind of me right now.” God he hated it when his mother talked like that. http://new.inlinkz.com/view.php?id=536225
This post is written for the Sunday Photo Fiction contest. The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to write a piece whether it is a story or poetry using the image as inspiration. My story follows the picture prompt. Other stories can be found by clicking on the link at the end of this post.
Leaving Michigan after a nasty divorce he had planned to make his new life in southern California. He had managed to pack everything he owned in a four by six u-haul trailer. No goodbye party was held for him.
Looking up at the sonoran desert sunset he thought that this was not where he envisioned he would begin his new life. But his car thought this was the perfect place, as it had just died. Two thousand, two hundred, and twenty three miles was when it decided to end its life. The sound of the hissing radiator hose was the cause of death.
But he vaguely remembered another car. And a horrible sound of metal being torn apart… and the smell… the awful smell of burning flesh.
Who could he call for help? Who would even here him?
Behind him he heard a voice. A very calm voice. A voice that sounded very comforting.
“Greetings. You’re right on time. The Boss will be very impressed!”
I entered the room and saw my grandfather sitting hunched on the floor watching the old black and white television. He had on his bib overalls that he always wore. In addition he wore an old beret, which was strange for an old man who came up north from Missouri. Huntley-Brinkly was on the news.
As time passes I enter the room and I see my son sitting crossed legged on the floor watching our new 65 inch big screen TV. He had on his old high school sweat shirt and was barefooted and texting. Lester Holt is on news.
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a complete story, beginning, middle and end using 100 words or less using the photo prompt for inspiration. My story follows the photo below.
Well, I should get out of this hotel bed. What a wild party that was last night. And to think Brian said I should’t drive home. I don’t remember that beautiful light fixture up there. Hey, that’s Uncle Paul and Aunt Marion looking down at me. They weren’t there last night. Why are they saying I look natural? What do you mean I was only 36; I’m 34.
And there’s my Mom right behind them. Why’s she crying? And she’s got her black dress one. The dress that she reserves for funerals.
This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction. The challenge is to write a piece whether it is a story or poetry using the image bellow for inspiration using around 200 words. “She’s seven minutes Jake.”
“Give her until three, she may have been held up getting off work,” replied Slade.
“She works in the prison workshop for God’s sake. She’s the supervisor and can leave when ever she wants. She got us the power tools we requested. We spend the last three weeks cutting through all those pipes and memorized the maze of tunnels to get out of here. We spend all that money on our cell buddies in the cells next to us to keep quiet. I’m telling you Slade I’m getting nervous about that broad.”
“She said she would be here and she will. It’s taken us three years to convince her to join us and leave that no good jerk of a husband at home. Plus stupid, she has the car. You think you can get anywhere away from here without some type of transportation. It’s not like we can call a cab is it?”
“I don’t think we need the cab Slade. Look below. It’s her alright. She’s been pulled over by the cops. Speeding I bet. She always was in a hurry.”
“Why did he let us go all at once. It would seem to be more effective to drag the process out don’t you think? I mean he has practiced this before without her. Or am I being premature in my judgement.” “Well she also had a hand in this decision you know,” said Richard. “But I mean consider all the odds of being the successful one. About one in 20 million I’ve read. I mean swim, swim, swim and even if you get there first it doesn’t mean that you will be the “lucky” one.” “Well Harry, you know what they say. First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity.”