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.”
The prompt:…so what time did you say it was?…
He was schedule to be injected with a legal mixture of drugs at midnight for his hideous crimes.
“It’s time,” the jailer said as he escorted Will out of his cell after his last meal.
The other inmates began a chant of “Dead Man Walking” as he passed their cells on his way to his scheduled appointment. Hands extended outside the cell bars tried to reach him. The walk took exactly 240 steps; he had counted them when other prisoners had walked to their death.
Looking to his left he asked the guard, …”so what time did you say it was?”
Mondays Finish the Story.
This is a flash fiction challenge where you will be provided with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided.
Little did we know that Grandpa was a collector. After his arrest we learned Grandpa collected a lot more than old Ford’s.
He owned that little Sinclair gas station just off Route 66 in Joplin, Missouri. His arrest warrant claimed that when he saw a Ford come in the station he desired he informed the owner his vehicle needed to have its brakes fixed. What he actually did, again according to the warrant, was to cut the break line.
Grandpa knew the car would not go far after that. He simply closed the station (not much traffic then) and follow the vehicle until it conked out. As he pulled up to the vehicle the occupants would think he had come to rescue them.
Over forty graves were later found about a mile back of the shed. Hubcaps were used as headstone markers. Grandpa is serving a life sentence at the Federal Bureau of Prisons in Springfield.