Sunday Photo Fiction 12-6-2017

219 12 December 3rd 2017


He watched the hotel draw closer as the boat slipped through the water, studying the almost-blank face of the building. To be honest, it looked more like an apartment building on the steadily-growing-seedy side of town than a five-star hotel.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, coming up beside him and sliding an arm around his waist.

He’d seen better, but didn’t say so. This was special to her, even if it wasn’t to him. It should be special to him, but he just couldn’t make it so in his own heart.

Truthfully, he loved her but he didn’t much like her anymore. Her neediness; her desperation to fit into his world when she didn’t. The band tolerated her because of him.

And that was a bad sign.

Because he loved her, he’d arranged this last weekend. It was gonna hurt like hell to walk away, but he would. Family was more important and the band was his family.

Turning to her, he smiled, determined to give her one more happy memory.


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Sunday Photo Fiction 11-25-2017


“Did you know praying mantises used to be worshiper as Gods?”

“God of bugs?”

“The harvest.”

“Harvest? Don’t they eat the harvest or something?”

He shook his head. “That’s grasshoppers. They eat insects.”

“Others insects?”

“And each other.”

“So why did they worship them as Gods?”

“Because, see it’s front arms. It looks like it is praying.”

“Well, sort of.”

“It does.”

They were silent for a few moments, watching the insect on the wall; filled with the wonder of life all around them, thick with the scent of fresh-cut hay and horses.

The shadow of their father fell over them, hands folded in prayer.

Sunday Photo Fiction 11-14-2017

 


Mission Scrappy-Scramble

“Pssst.”

“Quiet.”

Rodney moved his binoculars back and forth.  “They’ll hear you.”

“Who’s they?”

“You know, them.”

“So who’s them?” They had a they and a them and that was too confusing for him.

Rodney growled under his breath. “Doesn’t matter.  Just hush.”

They both fell silent as Rodney scanned some more.

“All right,” Rodney finally said.  “After this monster, run! And, Andy, I mean run your tail off.”

“It’s an awful long way, Rodney.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure. Just… get ready….. One….”

A huge gust of wind almost dumped them backwards as the monster flew past, metal sides gleaming in the sun.

“Two….”

The last of its wheels passed.

“Three!”

Grabbing Andy by the scruff of his neck, Rodney threw him out of the sewer drain. With all the speed two rats could muster, they fled across the pavement, reaching the far side and diving into a ditch as another monster flashed behind them. Collapsed in the grass to catch their breath.

“Are we going to the feast now, Rodney?”

Rodney slowly rose on his four feet.  “Yeah, we are. Come on.”

Rodney led the way as they scampered through the woods towards the houses beyond.

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction 11-7-2017

“Don’t,” he said, glancing over at the camera.

“But…”

“Pick up the camera and I’m gone.”

“But nobody will believe me.”

“Tough shit.”

“Bastard.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I bet.”

Shrug.

“So, tell me what happened.”

“Pinkert lied.”

“About what?”

“Promises. Platform, whatever you wish to call it.”

“And….”

“And, his past.”

“What about his past?”

“I’m not sure I want to talk about that.”

“Isn’t that what you called me to talk about?”

A long silence.

“I suppose.”

“So talk.”

“He …. abuses little boys.”

“Were you one of those boys?”

A longer silence.

Finally, “Yes.”

“So….”

“No more details.”

Silence.

“If I hadn’t come forward, nobody would know, now would they?”

“The political atmosphere is pretty vicious these days. He would have been found out eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t good enough.”

“You have proof?”

“Proof?”

“Without details to check, I need proof for my Editor to print this.”

“Pictures?”

“Pictures are good if they are authentic.”

“They’re authentic, all right.”

They both rose, neither offering to shake hands.

Darkness and shame walked one way.

Pulitzer Prizes and glory walked the other.

 


It seems fitting this conversation came up today, Election Day. Make of that what you may:) Thanks for reading.

Response – JSW Prompt “Winter” 9-21-2017

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words. If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site (sometimes I am slow, but I get there).


Winter, Stanza I

He turned to look at her.  “Well, yeah, where else would I be?”

She hadn’t moved and he wasn’t sure if she wanted to hit him or throw her arms around his neck. To occupy his mind, in the meantime, he flipped the two pancakes on the griddle.

“You,” she accused, ‘were leaving.”

He considered a moment.  Glanced over at her.  “When you kick me out.”

She cocked her head. “What do mean when I kick you out? Not only did you tell me you were ‘so out of here,’ you also told me you wouldn’t be back.”

He flipped a pancake, focusing on his task.  “I lied.”

Sinking down into one of the chairs round the table, she ran her hands through her hair. A sign she was upset, as if he needed one.

He moved over to sit beside her. “Look, we had a fight, we both said things we didn’t mean. At least, I said things I didn’t mean…” Hoping she might jump in, but she didn’t.

“It was stupid fight and…. I’m sorry. I messed up.” He glanced at her face, seeing the tears in her eyes. “I mean it, Ra, I messed up.  I don’t want to be anywhere but with you.”

The tears fell.

“Can we…. try again?”

“I…” Something like pain, not sadness, crossed her face.

He took her hand.  “Don’t say anything yet.  Just think about it, okay?”

“But….”

“Maybe I could say something about it?” A voice asked from the hall.

They both looked. A man stood there in sweat pants and nothing else. “You must be Daniel,” he said, stepping forward to offer his hand.

Daniel rose, accepting the hand. What he would not accept was the victory in the other man’s eyes.

“You gonna make breakfast for me, too?”

“Darren!”

“Come on, babe,” Darren said, sliding an arm around her waist. “Or should I leave you two alone to work things out? Whatdaya say, Dan, need to work things out?”

“Actually,” Daniel replied, stepping back, avoiding Ra’s eyes, “No, I think… I think things are pretty well worked out.”

“Daniel,” Ra said, grabbing his arm, “please. Let me….”

“Explain? I think I get the point. We argued last night. I left. You hooked up with lover boy there.”

He wasn’t going to show the ripping, tearing, motions slicing right down through the middle of his heart. Turning away, he grabbed his coat, jerking it on as he strode through the door.

“Dan, wait!’ she called, hurrying into the cold after him.

Their breath wove frozen words they would never speak, hieroglyphs vanishing into the cold like exhaust from a car vanishing into the night. In the end, there was nothing to say.

Driving away, Daniel pulled out the two tickets he’d purchased for London.  Wanted to rip them up and throw them into the snow, but he didn’t.

He didn’t know how long it took a broken heart to heal, but he guessed a long time. Looked like he would be traveling alone.

For awhile.