Danny James Photography
Photo Credit — Danny James
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,
The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,
The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass.
The moss is slippery, though there’s been no rain.
The pine sings, but there’s no wind.
Who can leap the world’s ties
And sit with me among the white clouds.
Han-Shan
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This post submitted to Friday Fictioneers.
“The illegals live there, officer.” The homeless man motioned ahead.
Here on the southwest edge of the city it was quite dirty and the area under the bridge oozed with feces and muddy water mixed with trash. The people were huddled together in a sprawling mass that covered the entire area shaded by the overhead bridge.
“Stinks like hell,” the border agent said.
“Just the beginning from what I hear. They say many more of their kind are on there way. Fleeing from gang violence and poverty. Can’t say that I blame them. Welcome to my world Amigos.”
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Photo Credit — Danny James
Before Eating, always take a little
time to thank the food.
Arapaho
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This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand
His carving could wait. Irving was late for service. Entering the parking lot he heard gunshots.
Rushing into the building he saw David and Cecil face down inside the entrance. The brothers were always first to meet worshipers when they arrived. Twenty feet in front of the brothers was Rosie. “Rosie, Rosie, 97 years young sure to make 101” was the familiar chant that we sang to her. This can’t be happening. To his right were Bernice and Sylvan. They were married in this same synagogue 60 years ago.
Another shot rang out. Irvin never heard it.
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Photo Credit — Danny James
City park in Kyoto Japan.
“Autumn… the year’s last, loveliest smile.”
– William Cullen Bryant
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The following short story is written for Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Don’t be afraid. Your not going to be the first for goodness sakes. Thousands of people have survived and lived to tell about it.
I wait until no one is at the desk. The light from the ceiling seems to form a spotlight directly on me. It follows me as I approach the grand circular counter. All the horrors of a Steven King novel come rushing into my mind. I know somewhere behind lies that crazy clown from the movie “It”.
I focus all my energy and utter my request. “I would like to apply for a library card please.”
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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
The snow was unexpected. It was not in the weather forecast. The yard was like a large whiteboard waiting for the artist. The snow presented a problem.
Sara’s husband Richard worked third shift at the factory. Normally Peter could spend the night and leave with no trace early in the next morning. The affair had been going on for some time. He had become comfortable with the arrangement. He would arrive around eleven thirty at night and leave around five in the morning. Plenty of time to enjoy the company of Sara and leave no trace behind.
Normally!
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