#FridayFictioneers – Virus

PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr

Margie sat stiffly on the bench, her satchel placed beneath it, under a cloudless summer sky. Sparrows splashed in the fountain directly in front of her, but her glazed eyes never saw them.

A gloved man in a fine black suit came around the fountain to join her. He took note of her eyes and bare hands. It took all of his considerable will not to pull away.

“Do you have it?”

“Yes,” Margie replied standing and swaying as she found her feet.

She had disappeared before he carefully took the satchel in his gloved hand and left the park.

WC: 100


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#FridayFictioneers – Fruitarian?

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Liam crunched into the apple. Juice ran from the corners of his mouth and stuck in the bit of stubble he called a goatee. “That is so good.” He sat hard on the curb outside the store, held the apple high, and marveled. “I think I’ve found it.”

Emma shouldered her pack. “Congratulations. It’s an apple. You ready? We’ve got miles to go yet.”

“No listen. I read about this fruitarian diet and…” Crunch. “It could be for me.”

“That’s fine. Will’s grilling burgers tonight though.” Emma began walking.

“Hey wait! That’s tonight.”

Emma laughed. “More for us, I guess.”

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#FridayFictioneers – Behind the Curtain

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The papers would all say that it was their greatest performance. One for the ages.

The cast would never forget it.

Devon locked arms with his fellow performers and bowed low. The applause was deafening. Their smiles wide. The curtain fell as they waved enthusiastically to the adoring crowd.

He was found slumped against a wall in his dressing room the next morning. A spent pill bottle on the floor. Vodka bottle clutched in a fist.

A crumpled paper lay beside the stage make-up. He had scrawled one word.

“Sorry.”

The papers reported that he showed no signs of depression.

WC: 100


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#FridayFictioneers – How Much?

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn Miller

“Just pick one already?” Josh said. “The game’s on soon.” They walked back through the gallery yet again.

Cindy shrugged. “I like them both. What do you think?”

“I’ll go with whichever’s cheaper.”

Cindy rolled her eyes before cutting him a look. “Men,” she mumbled as they neared the painting she was leaning toward. A red barn set beneath a blue sky on a field of green. It conjured memories she thought lost to her, causing tears to well in her eyes. “This one.”

Josh flipped the paper slip up to check the price. He thought he may cry also.

WC: 100


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#FridayFictioneers – Left and Right

PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

The down side didn’t work. I wondered why but kept silent.

There were men with guns. Hard looking men. They didn’t seem the talking type.

Surely there would be someone on the upper level to explain. We were citizens and as such, deserved an explanation.

The escalator carried us up to where we slotted into lines. More hard-eyed, gun carrying men lined the walls.

Haz-mat suited figures scanned those at the head of the lines. They parted the subjects left and right.

A man screamed and ran. A dozen rifles appeared before him. He wept and parted to the left.

WC: 100


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#FridayFictioneers – Red on White

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The snow had quit. The wind had not. It howled, driving temperatures below zero. Martin followed the tracks, wondering if his thick gloved finger would fit inside the trigger guard of his Glock.

The body lay just outside the halo of light from the park lamp. What was left was half buried in snow dyed red with its own blood.

“Oh dear God,” Martin gasped.

Flashlight beams trembled over the red covered white, tracing the line of tracks to the edge of the forest.

A howl rose on the wind.

Martin shivered. It had nothing to do with the cold.

WC: 100


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#FridayFictioneers – All of the Taste

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Sammy knew what he had to do. It wouldn’t be easy, but if he could mange, it would be worth it. He hoped it would anyway.

He pulled in a deep, steadying breath and went for it, peeling the plastic from the tray and attacking the contents. All the nutrition he needed and no taste. It all went down with hardly a chew. Hardly a taste.

“Very good,” his mom said smiling. “Slow down for dessert. You don’t want brain-freeze.”

She needn’t have worried. He would savor this. His favorite with none of the nutrients and all of the taste.


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