It was a little after 7:30 am. We were about a half hour late. She always liked to get started early on her twice daily walk. I told her the radar indicated that the rain would be here shortly. I could tell by the look she gave me that she couldn’t wait. So off we went. Sure enough the rain started about five minutes into our walk. Ten minutes later it was a delude. She wasn’t happy.
It was late afternoon Monday June 8, 1953. As we drive to my grandmother’s I remember seeing a refrigerator in a tree. For an seven year old that didn’t make sense. Her street of old two story homes was now what looked like a messy lumber yard.
There were a few people, some walking, some sitting on the ground, with a daze look in their eyes, rummaging among their damaged possessions looking like the walking dead. The amazing thing was that there was total silence. There was no wind. It was a time when the world stood STILL.
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story using 100 words or less that has a beginning, middle and end using the picture prompt below.
We were in the heart of a long abandoned area of the park. The greenness of the area hid the desperation of the inhabitants below. Come nightfall the squatters would come back from their days journey in hell. Dirty backpacks, trash bags containing refundable containers, broken grocery carts filled with their worldly possessions. The daily migration never ended. Each day a few crazed zombies added to the population. The poorest of the poor lived right here, underneath the walking path. Some people who had lost their self-respect called this place home.
This post is in response to 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.
I met Sara at the last meeting. I liked her sad story. She is homeless and sleeps on the grassy area under the highway overpass. We mumble “thanks for sharing” and let our minds wander back to our own pathetic world.
When my turn comes I rattle on about my recent good fortune. Faces turn as I describe my new digs. Suddenly Sara shouts that she is tired of sleeping on the streets and asks if I need a roommate. I give her my address.
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a short story, 100 words or less, with a beginning, middle and end using the picture prompt provided. My story follows that picture prompt below.
Living far from her parents was rough enough in normal times. And this definitely was not close to normal. She regretted now, more than ever before, leaving home. Leaving them so depended on others.
He did not even get the opportunity to see his latest grandchild. Even her mother was not able to be at his bedside when he died. Only the nurse. A nurse who nothing about the wonderful person that lay before her suffering his last suffocating painful breaths.
She received the dreaded last night at 3 a.m.
“Send me something to remember him,” she asked the nurse.
This story 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. My story follows the picture prompt.
His mind wandered in and out of the real world. His twenty eight years working on Amtrak trains occupied his decaying mind at the moment. He had a nightmare that would not go away.
He had to throw a switch.
The switch that would allow his train to enter the siding and allow the Amtrak California Zephyr to pass on the main line on its way to its final destination in Emeryville. He didn’t realize how much the heavy snow would slow him down.
The headline in the San Francisco Examiner read: “Brakeman only survivor in Amtrak train disaster.”
The big event was in full swing and everyone was having a wonderful time. Stories were being shared. Friends they had know for the last fifty years and longer were there to help celebrate their fifty years of marriage.
They had their ups and downs but what couple doesn’t who stays together that long. In fact their marriage has lasted longer than their children’s marriages.
“What’s the secret to a long marriage”, asked his best friend David. “Those famous three words.?”
He smiled to himself. “They have changed a little but the thought is still the same.”
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. My story follows the picture prompt below.
The weather was dreary. She felt the helpfulness flow over her. Her brother and father were in another line just a few feet away. She quickly glanced over. Their heads were bowed as they marched toward the gray concrete building. It would be the last time she saw them.
Her line slugged forward. No words were spoken. It had only been two hours since she was booted from the train. The train that was so crowded that when they opened the door some prisoners were expelled involuntary.
Years later she would tell a spellbound audience, “We got the water.”
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. My story follows the picture prompt below.
Living in Seoul was an eye opening experience. “You will make new and interesting friends” her father said. But it was hard for a ten year old girl who was extremely shy. She missed her friends from San Antonio.
Learning a new language proved to be difficult. Her new friends wanted to learn her language too. She found a solution for both problems by giving videotaped English lessons for the Korean school system.
Looking back she realized this was the start of her broadcasting career.
“One minute to air, Nora”, boomed a voice in the background.
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. My story follows the picture prompt below.
It is their finished product. It gleams with excitement. Roger had tuned his guitar an hour earlier. John’s trumpet and French horn were waiting. The drums were taking a rest before Keith pounded them into submission. Dave had his piano ready to take directions from his flying fingers.
Now the seats are all empty. The last of the folding chairs are in place. This is the quiet before the storm. The lights will come up to welcome another show. Be it Detroit or Chicago who knows.
Having been some time in preparation a good time is guaranteed for all.