Quarantined

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.

the-view
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

It wasn’t the way things were supposed to work out. The promise of having friends and family visit was one of the main selling points in moving into assisted living. The ability to maintain contacts would keep him from going insane.

Now it’s just the staff. The same old staff now wearing masks. What the hell has happened. They say the most terrible legal sentence to impose on someone was solitary confinement.

Far beyond the window, at the edge of some tall willows and behind the gate, he can see his granddaughter. Even from here he can see her crying.

 

Skins vs. Shirts

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. 

dales-field
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Skins vs. Shirts. That was always the game. We always had to wait until the older kids finished their games. Sometimes our games went well into the darkness of the night.

Rick was the tallest of our little gang. If I found myself on Rick’s side I knew we had a decent chance of winning.

I was short but quick. We made a great duo. Mutt and Jeff they called us.

Some nights we played until they turned off the court lights.

Rick was one of the first of our little group to experiment with performance enhancing medicines.

 

 

The Last Lap

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

belton-lap-pool
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Light was fading fast outside when the terrible thing happened.

“How long was he in the water before you found him.”

“Not more than 15 minutes inspector” answered Erick. “I saw him on my last round.

“No witnesses I assume?”

“He always swam late at night and always alone. Except last night.”

“Except last night Erick? Who was with him last night.”

“It was a lady. There were lots of laughs and horseplay. Then I heard angry shouts and then silence.”

“Erick, do you think he was having an argument with his wife.”

“Inspector, I know one thing. It wasn’t his wife.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guten Morgen

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers. 

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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

German class started at 8 a.m. I hated it! The old building seemed an appropriate place to learn this old European guttural language. Even the architecture suggested a dark and troubled time.

It took two years of German classes to receive my degree.  It was that or take the equivalent number of hours in mathematics. My instructor for the entire two years was Herr Blumenthal. He stood an unimpressive five foot one, always smoked a pipe, and wore had the same tweed jacket for the entire two years.

My days started with the same words “Guten Morgen Herr James!”


	

A Naughty Dog

This post is submitted to 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. Other stories can be read by clicking HERE.

trees-ronda-del-boccio
PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

I know my my time is coming to an end. I can hear him shouting in the distance. Once I escaped I kept quiet as I ran through the tall grass enjoying my first taste of freedom. But nightfall is going to be my downfall. I’ve never been outside after the sun has set. I see the headlights of his car closing in on me. I am ready to return. There he is! I know I have caused a great deal of trouble.

He should have thought about that when he took my leash off.

Harry

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

piano-anshu
PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

Harry comes in around nine. The regular crowd has been there since eight. Been that way since ’96. Taking his seat at the piano he turns and surveys the crowd. He knows they all have to be back in their coffins by sunrise.

There’s Sara dressed in her finest white gauze and her head topped by a red bandana. Over in the corner is Old John still trying to pick up Sadie. She told him to drop dead ten hears ago. And he did!

The keys on the piano have turned to decayed wood. The sound doesn’t have to carry far.

 

 

 

 

Seashore

This post is in response to the Weekend Writing prompt.

wk-96-seashore

 

IMG_0966
Photo Credit … Danny James

We walked this beach many times. As little girls we promised to be best friends forever. Then came careers, husbands and children of our own. The walks became less frequent. We compared notes on our life’s progress until the pain from the pancreatic cancer became unbearable. Your daughter’s words still haunt me today. “You better come quick. Mom’s dying.”

 

 

 

Bath Robe in the Window

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.

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PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

I park my motorcycle outside Maria’s  small apartment. I thought to myself: you really think she will forgive you?

I had run away. Commitment was not in my vocabulary. I need time to think I told her. “I think you are making a huge mistake,” she had shouted at my departing trail of stones my bike kicked up.

Ten lonely months on the road had convinced me she was right. Time to suck it in and make amends.

Looking up at her widow I see the shadow of a man in a bath robe looking down at me.

 

Forgiveness?

This post is written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneer’s challenge. 

jhc-asylum
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

On the day Fritz was released from jail for the last time, staff dropped him off at a Metro stop in suburban Chicago. He had forty three dollars in his pocket, money he had earned in prison, and a one day bus pass.  He had nowhere to stay.

Convicted on a voluntary charge of manslaughter he had served twenty three years behind bars for killing his own brother in a family dispute over money.

As he looked up on the window at the familiar brownstone building he wondered. They say a mother’s love is never ending.