Dinnertime

farm

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Sam grasped the fence post as nausea doubled him over. The throb on this right side spread around to his back. He wondered just how long seventy years of debauchery would take to kill him.

“Can’t be.” He tried to shake off his headache and clear his vision. “It is. But it can’t be. They’ve been dead for over 50 years. The old farm was sold at auction. It’s a damned subdivision now.”

Grandma stepped out of the barn and waved at him. “Sammy. Dinner’s about ready. Come on home.”

The twelve-year old boy scrambled down the path toward Heaven.

It’s Wednesday and once again time to participate in Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ 26 January 2024 edition of Friday Fictioneers.

The idea is to use the image above as the prompt for crafting a poem or story no more than 100 words long. My word count is exactly 100.

I’ve got the cold or flu or something. Not feeling or sleeping well. This story pretty much wrote itself.

To read other stories based on the prompt, visit inlinkz.

Only ONE DAY LEFT to download my science fiction/fantasy novelette “Ice” from Amazon for FREE. Don’t miss out. How often do you get a chance at a free book and from an author you have some familiarity with.

35 thoughts on “Dinnertime

  1. I like how you handled his transition from this world to the next. Very subtly done and it took me right there with him. (not literally – I hope). I hope you feel better soon.

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  2. 70 years of debauchery will take its toll, and the toll is a heavy one.

    I hope you’re feeling better. I hate being sick. Somehow, it’s worse when you’re not quite sure what it is.

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