Tag Archives: photo prompt

Hello, Mom?

mics and junk

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

They say the best way to conceal something is to hide it in plain sight. That’s what Charlie did. To everyone else, it was his cluttered man-cave, but the room held something he couldn’t share.

He knew he shouldn’t, that it was forbidden but once he’d invented the process he couldn’t stop. He’d always had trouble letting go but even he knew this was over the top.

“Screw it.” He flipped on the power switch and adjusted the equipment to her frequency.

“Hello, Mom?” She’d been dead for three years this coming Monday but he could still talk to her.

Continue reading →

One Last Moment of Beauty

flower fence

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Michael stopped, startled not so much by the shocking red, but that something beautiful could exist against the background of ugliness.

It had been so long since he’d let himself see anything in the world except injustice and the need for vengeance and retribution. He looked at the flower and remembered his mother before she died. Then he recalled that all beauty died with her and finished snapping the magazine into his illegal automatic handgun.

Walking around to the front of the house, he rang the bell. A man answered. Michael aimed at the chest of one of the rapists.

Continue reading →

Summer Vacation

clouds

PHOTO PROMPT © C. E. Ayr

The hiking trail had been a refreshing interlude but he always came back to the same place. Facing the dehumanizing blocks of motel rooms, Richard sagged wishing he could stay among the trees with a roof of clouds and sky.

But she didn’t like to camp, said sleeping bags made her itch, and motels served a free breakfast.

“I can’t face it all again and especially her.” He stopped to glare at the suite of prison cells. “Hell with it.”

He turned around. The sun would set soon and he would be alone. Richard wondered who would find his bones.

Continue reading →

She Can’t Hear Me Anymore

two chairs

PHOTO PROMPT © Lily

He watched her sitting in the same chair she always occupied. This was the resting spot on her daily walks where she watched the island. It and the empty chair beside her held terrible memories that would forever possess her.

“Lily.” He called her name but of course she couldn’t hear him. In a few moments she would go back to her walk eventually returning to the home they once shared.

All the while, he was trapped here, maybe forever. She could never forget the day she murdered him and he would always haunt these two chairs and the island.

Continue reading →

Of Stuff and Muses

fleur

PHOTO PROMPT © Fleur Lind

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

“Well, write something about it,” Muse demanded. In such an ordinary setting, her ephemeral existence, blond hair flowing as water-like as her sheer gown, she was so out of place.

I answered in dismay, “Write what? It’s just someone’s family room. I have no idea what the image on the TV screen is supposed to mean except in the literal sense.”

“Hurry up, James. You do this every week. I have a 10 o’clock with another client.”

“It reminds me of…” I looked around my home office. “Everyone keeps stuff no one else understands.”

She vanished in an impatient puff.

Continue reading →

Guardian

camping

PHOTO PROMPT © AJ Wilson

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

Some idiot family from the suburbs thinks owning an SUV gives them license to off-road to a wilderness area and then trash it. I bet they think taking the little kiddies down to the lake is some sort of adventure. Those trails haven’t been used in years and with good reason.

I walk over to the blue foldout chair, have a seat, and wait. Fortunately, he doesn’t come out until dark. With any luck I can get these people out of here before he wakes up. As the guardian, I’m the only thing between this family and an immortal killer.

Continue reading →

This Isn’t Me

resized

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

How did I end up like this?

Look at this. A baby walker, little kiddie motorized truck, and the worst of it, a mega-propane barbecue.

This isn’t me. It was never me. I guess that’s the point, though.

“Alan? Can you come in and help me change the baby’s diaper?”

“Yeah, Hon. In a minute.” I sound just like some stupid suburban husband. I mutter, “The name’s Ricco.”

I shrug my shoulders and start trudging up the back steps. Diapers. Married. Barbecues. It’s not me, but then the mob won’t be looking for a hit man turned state’s evidence here.

Continue reading →

Comfort Food

Liz Young

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

“What’s this?” Aaron viewed the cutting board with dismay.

“You wanted to know how to cook. This is your first lesson.”

It was his third date with Melissa. He’d been divorced for two years. He didn’t want to at the age of 63, but his friends pushed him into that dating service.

“What are we making?”

“Something healthier than what you usually eat.” She pressed in behind him. He felt the not-so-subtle push of her breasts as a motivator. It wasn’t enough.

“Where are you going?”

He grabbed his phone and headed for the door. “Out for a burger. Bye.”

Continue reading →

Night Tightens Like a Noose

new day

© Sue Vincent

“The circle of an empty day is brutal and at night it tightens around your neck like a noose.” Elisa Gutierrez realized they only had a few seconds between the flash and the heat wave that would incinerate the both of them as they stood on the ridge overlooking what used to be greater Los Angeles. But she still turned toward Harvey Bowman, her boyfriend and co-conspirator, looking at his face, mostly hidden by the light suppressing lenses she also wore, amazed that he could wax poetic moments before they died.

“Are you nuts?” She grabbed his arm, feeling how perfectly still he was compared to her trembling. “We’re about to die and…”

Her voice, nasal Bronx accent and all, were cut off abruptly as the blast of heat, exceeding a hundred million degrees Celsius, reached them. They were both instantly rendered as dry, black ash. Seconds later, the shock wave hit them and they exploded, their remains scattered like autumn leaves in a hurricane. Amazingly, she could still see.

Continue reading →

The Wishing Tree

wishing tree

© Sue Vincent

Little Mari, a year younger than five-year-old Zooey Davidson, took her by the hand as they ran toward the wishing tree. In their free hands, they each held a colorful cloth provided by Tala, who looked like she could be Mari’s teenage sister but wasn’t.

“Danilo helped me put my first one up. Now I’ll help you.”

“Did your brother tell you what it is?”

“Of course. It’s a wishing tree.”

“What do you wish for?”

“Anything you want.”

“Can I wish to go home?”

“I don’t know. A lot of the kids don’t want to go home.”

Continue reading →