The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story/poem using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide.
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John leaned over the seat, staring fixedly out the window. “Did you hear that?”
He shook his head. “Are you with me or not?”
“Yeah, I’m with you,” Ted replied, rather lackadaisical.
If it was only him, so be it. Nobody else had ever come up with a plan so diabolical in the history of mankind. At least since the invention of autos and antenna and so forth.
This year was going to be a bonanza.
“You sure this is a good place? Shouldn’t we be in the woods or something?”
He heard the whisper again, the sounds of them coming in, drawn to the rough and tumble of the port. A moment later, he spied the tiny dots of them, growing larger as they came, filling the bridge of the sky, cries like battle calls as they dove and fought over the leaving from the ships.
Sliding open the side door, John started shooting, whooping for joy.
Seagull hunting never had it so good!