This short piece of fiction is written for Friday Fictioneers.The challenge is to write a story based on the picture prompt of 100 words or less that is a complete story with a beginning, middle and end. You can read other participants stories by clicking HERE.
My story begins after the picture below.
The memories of the place still haunt him.
Robert was his roommate. An extremely obese black man who never once in six weeks got out of bed. They brought a contraption in to lift him up to change his sheets. He never once turned the television off despite desperate requests. He had moved what furniture he had from his apartment into the tiny room.
Chicken Lady was how he knew what time it was. She started crowing late in the afternoon and her state of confusion would last well into his restless night.
The fog was lifting as she looked out her kitchen window.
Thirty days ago she woke up from her own little fog of a nightmare. When THAT fog lifted she did not know where she was or who was the person beside her in bed. She noticed her special red dress beside the nightstand.
Quickly dressing, and without disturbing her bed mate, she left the room.
She walked two blocks before she could hail a cab.
She made a pledge that this was the last time this would happen.
Tonight, at the meeting, she would pick up her silver chip.
Every week on a Sunday, a new photo is used as a prompt for Flash Fiction challenge using around 200 words based on that image. My story begins after the photo below. To read what other author’s have written, just click on the blue frog at the bottom.
The meeting started promptly at 7:00 p.m. It was one of the three or four meetings he made each week.
It was a Friday meeting. Friday meetings were always speaker meetings. He looked forward to hearing how other people had overcome their addiction. He always learned something at these meetings.
At this meeting he looked around and most of the regulars were there. Old Tom, whose advice was always the same. “Put the plug in the jug”, and you didn’t have to worry about ever drinking again. He knew that did not work for everyone.
Mr. Sam was always there. Always early to make the coffee and set up the chairs and welcome newcomers. Sam picked up his 50 year chip last month. He claimed to have met Dr. Bob in Buffalo one time. Mr. Sam always claimed his seat up front when he wasn’t chairing the meeting. No regular member would ever consider sitting in Mr. Sam’s chair and new comers were politely asked to find another place to sit if they even looked at Mr. Sam’s chair.
He always considered walking over that little bridge signified his path to sobriety one day at a time.