Molly hugged her knees to her chest as she stared out across the ocean. Clutched in her hand was the latest letter from Brad. Soon he’d be heading. He had written how he was looking forward to seeing her. Molly hadn’t seen him since the day they had graduated high school. After graduation she had gone off to college. and Brad had joined the military, so she’d heard. It wasn’t till she’d moved back home and ended up running into Brad’s brother that she had ended up getting in touch with him again She wondered if he at all felt for her the way she did for him. Or, as was usually the case, was it all one-sided.
Thousands of miles away, Brad was preparing to go home. Tucked safely in his pocket was a photograph that Molly had sent. He couldn’t wait to see her, to tell her how he felt.
The street was darker than usual as Rosinda made her way towards the Diner where she worked the night shift.
The lights from the sign flickered off and on as she reached for the door. The air felt odd somehow, oppressive. For a moment she considered leaving.
Giving herself a mental shake, Rosinda opened the door. She then noticed the immaculate, well dressed man sitting at one of the booths watching her as if he was familiar with her. And yet she had never seen him before. Nonetheless, she somehow she felt drawn to him.
Jasmine set the Daisies she had picked carefully down on Robert’s grave. Up ahead, she caught site of an elderly couple slowly walking along the gravesites. Every so often they would stop for a moment to look at one. The elderly women tenderly held the gentleman’s hand – her husband??
Jasmine’s thoughts went back to Robert. They were to be married upon his return to the states. Now that would never happen, nor would he ever get to know his daughter nestled safely in Jasmine’s womb.
A tear trickeld down Jasmine’s cheek. “I Love You” Robert she whispered.
Inspired by this photo from What Pegman Saw and the related Google – Street View
Sally sat on the beach with Renaldo. Far off in the distance she could see the boat coming, the one that would he would soon be boarding. Closer, other boats stood moored with anchors. At the moment they sat abandoned, captain-less. Suddenly, as if on a signal people came from all directions boarding the various boats. The boat off in the distance wasn’t so distant anymore. Closer and closer it came as more and more people arrived filling up the beach, filling up the water.
“That’s my cue” Renaldo said. Sally nodded sadly. “Will I ever see you again” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“No my love, I fear not”. Renaldo replied confirming her fears. “I will never forget you. I only ask that should you ever find someone to love you love them as you did me these past years, with your whole heart.”
Suzzanne came to feeling disoriented. She had no idea how long she had been out for. The first thing she became aware of was the fact that she was pinned and couldn’t move. Fear set it almost immediately.
Claustrophobia was a very real problem for Suzzanne, almost debilitating. A scream welled up in her throat, escaping. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eyes, she could see a body appear at the passenger side door.
“It’s ok, Suzzanne, you’re gonna be ok” the voice attached to the body said, “Just try to stay calm”… “That’s it nice deep breaths”
I concentrated my story on the car itself, not so much on the surrounding parts of the picture.
This is my story for Rochelle’s Friday Fiction. Photo Credit for this week’s photo goes to J Hardy Carroll. (Unfortunately, I am not able to save or copy the picture but if you go to the above link you will be able to see it.)
“Who’s out there?” An angry voice growled, “I thought I told you hooligans to leave.”
“Please sir, I’m sorry.” A small voice trembled. “I was trying to get my kite back.”“A likely story. You probably thought you could sneak a peak at a monster, like the other hooligans.”
“No sir, I’m sure you are no monster. You’d sound nice if you weren’t so gruff.”
“That is kind of you to say but I’m sure you wouldn’t be if you could see me.”
“Perhaps if I could…”
A burn-scarred face peeked out.
The girl gasped, then bravely approached the older man.
Quietly, at first, the music played. A soft mournful tune. People flocked to listen not knowing the reason why. They only knew they could not stop. The music entranced them as it entrapped them, the tempo increasing faster and faster still maintaining the mournful melody. Lights flickered and flashed spinning faster and faster as the tempo increased. “Do you think we have them under our power now?” The Young One asked. “Yes” replied The Old One, “I believe we do.” “A Job well done.” admitted The Ancient. Something he rarely did.
“So what will become of them?” The Young One wanted to know.
“We will make them our slaves to do our bidding.” replied The Ancient. “They will serve us well, I’m sure.”
Came across an interesting article about how ones Personality Type (Myers Briggs Type Indicator) has an influence on our writing. Towards the end of the article there is a short quiz you can take that gives you an idea if you are more of an Introverted or more of an extroverted writer. Which one you are may determine a lot about which writing environments work better for you and which aspects of writing you are more comfortable with.
If you want to check out the article, here is the link: