The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. It doesn’t have to be center stage in the story, I have seen some where the placement is so subtle, the writer states where it is.
He stood, head back, staring at the rising pinnacle cutting into the sky. His first trip to London and he was awed and saddened and ready to go home. All the history of this place, fingers of longing connecting his present to the past, hadn’t prepared him for the ache of it. A city built on blood and bodies. No different than any other city except he had expected something more, different. Real.
The tour guide ushed them back to the bus, off to see another marvel of London. He remember The Spire, a book he’d read in school. Would Golding have written the same of this pinnacle? Had it’s own Dean Jocelin willed it alive?
Tomorrow, he would board the plane for home, crossing the vastness of sea. He would never forget the broad strokes of the trip. It was the tiny things, however, the forgotten thing, he desperately longed to remember.