A Guy, his mom, and his goat.

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, tasked us to write a complete story (Beginning, Middle, and End) based on the photo prompt provided in 100 words or less. My story follows the picture prompt. Other stories can be found by clicking here.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

“Are you hungry mister,” my wife asks as she rolls down the car window.

“John David Thomas” the figure in the old faded Army fatigues with crutches across his body slurs. “Yes Miss I am.”

“Here’s some food we have left over from dinner at Harry’s”, Carole says.

“Bless you.”

“Are you homeless,” my wife asks.

“I live down by the cemetery with my old mother and my goat,” he mumbles.

As we leave he continues “You have an extra three dollars you can spare. Liquor store is just down there. Hey! What’s in this bag anyway.

(99 words)

 

 

 

 

Stay a Little While

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers

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Copyright – Adam Ickes

 

I was always running. Running away from what I could not explain. When relationships became too encumbering I vanished. Careers were suddenly torpedoed from an unknown fear. My family gave up on me. Always starting over. Nothing ever lasted. No future, just memories.

A memory I banished from my time with her surfaces: We stood on her front step after our first kiss, and she waited for me to respond. I wanted to tell her how I felt.

This time will be different I say to myself.

“This time take off your shoes and stay a while,” she said.

What In The World?

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Photo Credit —–Douglas M. MacIlroy

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

Every Wednesday he sat here and pondered the image on his computer screen. He was not alone in this obsession. People from all over the world made an appearance here.

They all worshipped this divinity. The ONE that provided their inspiration was in session in HER domain.

Their stories were different. Faced with the same problem they came to difference interpretations. Was it a craftsman at his work station? A recluse with plans to take over the world? Why the tattered globe? What were those pliers used for?

Click here!

Finley Coal Co. No. 15 mine

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

“It was your father’s only way to feed us. Coal was king in this part of Kentucky. We didn’t care about no black lung disease. Lord knows we never heard the words “climate change” and won’t make no difference if we did.”

“When he entered that mine shaft he had no idea it would be his last day on earth. Not only his last day but the last day for 37 other miners.”

“But I tell you one thing boy about your father. I knows you had differences with him but he would be proud that you became an environmental engineer.”

For some other stories click here.

 

 

The Cruelest Month. 29 Bells.

This post is submitted to Sunday Photo Fiction.

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Photo Credit Susan Spaulding

“This ship was made to withstand this type of weather!” Captain McSorley exclaimed. He based his belief because the ship had made over forty voyages in its seventeen years of service taking ore pellets from Superior Wisconsin to the steel mills near Detroit.

First mate Pulcer wasn’t so sure. He had a bad feeling when they left the port at Superior Wisconsin. Leaving this late he knew they could encounter some bad weather. Some of the other 27 crew members shared his belief.

Two days out his nightmare was beginning  to become a reality.

Dawn came and the ship’s cook said “Boy’s it’s too bad out there to feed you mates. Captain reports winds of 35-50 knots and waves 3 meters high.”

Pulcer decided to join the Captain on the bridge. He knew that the captain had chosen the route that took advantage of the protection offered by the lake’s north shore in order to avoid the worst effects of the storm.

“Reduce speed,” said the captain.

“Do respect sir, but with full speed we can reach the safety of Whitefish Bay.”

“Negative First Mate, reduce speed.”

Every year a bell tools 29 times at the Mariners’ Church of Detroit.

 

 

 

 

Watch Out For Oil In Turn 4

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

His grandfather was called the “King” of the sport.

He spent his youth racing cars in western North Carolina. He was expected to win. And he did; becoming the youngest driver to win the National Championship.

Everyone kept telling him he should retire. He was getting too old and his reflexes were slowing down. He wanted one more win. He would win the championship if he won this last race.

On the last lap over his headset he heard his crew chief say “Watch out for oil in turn four.” They were the last words he would ever hear.

 

We Got The Water

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“Yes child, I remember.”

Her horrible memories return nightly. The long lines with whole families lined up together with all their belongins. As she got closer to the end of the line she could see the soldier asking questions and then pointing either right or left. Sometimes the families were split up with the mothers and daughters directed to go one way and the father and sons going another.

Suddenly she realized they were the ones being questioned. Her husband and son were quickly shoved to the right.

“My daughter and I were the lucky ones. We got the water.”

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Click for details. We got the water