photo by Taken
The moment they look at each other they know they’ve met The One. In disbelief, they laugh.
‘Now? What a bloody joke.’
They kiss goodbye before – holding hands – they face the firing squad.
I was a bit uninspired today, but as it’s Writing Prompt Wednesday, I plucked a writing prompt from the reader:
goodbye (okay, I only used half of it).
Love Nudge competition runs all week, you get an extra 100 words today – here’s my take on Day 4 – Security:
You’re here to end it. But he plays his ace before you get a chance to reel off your spiel.
‘Such beautiful children. Max may be taking after his father, but look at little Olive. The spit of you.’
He puts a stack of photo prints on the bar. There’s the bright glint in his eyes again; the glint you mistook for mischief. It’s malice, maybe with a little madness mixed in?
‘What did you want to talk about, my lovely?’
You lack the breath to speak the words you prepared.
You traded in
Security for threats
Of the innocent.
Welcome to Week Two of Three Line Tales. Join in if you want.
photo by Michael Hull – click here for the full res version
The TLT rules are simple:
Take a look at the photo prompt and write three lines to go with it.
Your lines can be poetry, micro-fiction, micro non-fiction or just a really long caption – everything goes as long as it’s three lines long.
A link back to this post would be nice (it’ll make me feel obliged to swing by yours to read your three lines, and some of your readers might want to join in, too – the more, the merrier, right?).
Tag your post with
3LineTales – it’ll make it easier for others to find it in the Reader. Use the hashtag
#3LineTales on Twitter or #3LineTales on Instagram if you’d rather not use your blog. Read other participants’ lines.
If you want, post your three lines here in the comments (I think they’d look much better on your blog, though).
If the photo inspires you to write something longer than three lines, put a link in the comments, anyway – but mention you went over, please.
I’ve tucked away my lines behind the more tag and three * – for those of you who’d rather not read my slant until after you’ve written yours.
photo by Elly Filho
‘How was date night with the hubby?’
You flinch. You didn’t tell him about dinner and a movie that isn’t an animation and drinks in a trendy bar. Did you? Is he trying to rattle you again? Or has he taken up stalking you online?
‘It was a lovely evening, thank you,’ you say, hiding your anger. His face is contorted into a grimace that masks all of his attractive features. You don’t like where the thought is leading.
He doesn’t take it well when you leave early.
From welcome change to
Yet another person to please,
Ugly and green-eyed.
Day Three of Lynn’s Love Nudge competition.
photo by Nousnou Iwasaki
It’s 3:55am. The car park light sways in the gusting wind and makes shadows dance on the bedroom wall. Is the moon waxing or waning? Difficult to see without glasses.
I went for a run in the afternoon, for crying out loud. I should be sleeping like a baby.
photo prompt for FFfAW 51 by Albert ( more stories here)
‘Think you can fix it?’
‘It’s got plants growing out of it, darlin’.’
His shoulders slump.
Suz looks at the guy. She kinda likes his face. But why does he need a car mechanic to tell him this is hopeless?
‘Why’s the rust-bucket so important to you?’
He disappears underneath and Suz doesn’t expect an answer.
‘My grandfather restored it when he was my age. He’s stuck in his past, reliving his young guy days. I tracked the car down because I thought if he saw it again, it might help.’
‘Alright. I’ll work some magic.’
photo from Public Domain Archive
When they moved in, their possessions – in stark contrast to their plans for the future, which couldn’t be contained – fit in three bags.
She watches the movers load box after box into lorries. What a difference a few years make. She didn’t know they’d accumulated this much stuff until they had to pack up. Where did it all come from?
The house – situated in a prime catchment area – will hold their possessions and offer room for more. It’s huge; its mortgage’ll squeeze out what life there’s left in their plans.
She likes to pretend their future hasn’t been boxed yet.
Trust me to turn this bright, sunny
photo prompt for FFfPP week 5 into a gloomy story, eh?
Central Park Reservoir, (c) Sonya 2007
From her bedroom window, Camilla looks down on the masses shuffling along Fifth Avenue. She doesn’t dare going out on the balcony – she’s seen them climb trees like chimps going after people in the park.
The house phone rings.
‘Ms Vandenberg, Mr. Preston is here for you.’
Camilla laughs at Colin’s formality. He’s the reason the residents haven’t been overrun, but he acts as if it were part of the job.
‘Did he bring the guns?’
‘He did indeed.’
‘Colin, won’t you come upstairs?’
‘My place is by the door, Ms. Vandenberg. We don’t want undesirables coming in, do we?’
Microcosms 4, which provided the following prompts: character – princess; location: New York City; genre: horror.
Sunflowers at Surrey Docks Farm – (c) Sonya, 2011
When I grow up, I want to be a sunflower. I want to stand in one place and turn my face with the sun. I want to be tall and bright and make people smile.
Dad says sunflowers will have a better chance than us. But by the time I’ve grown up, even they may need too much water. And they don’t actually turn with the sun. Cacti grows tall, he says. I’ll get to see them soon as we’ll move again and this time, it’ll be the desert.
Cactus, sunflower – I’ll take it, as long as it has roots.
It’s one of
my pictures for FFfAW 50 – one I’d forgotten about. I love sunflowers and I’m looking forward to reading everyone’s stories.
photo via Public Domain Images
I remember the day I chucked my Chucks.
They had holes in the soles, the fabric’d worn so thin they should have fallen apart. Neither made me want to part with them.
It took Mum to come into my room and put her foot down.
‘Enough is enough,’ she said, ‘those shoes of yours are a disgrace.’
‘You don’t understand what they mean to me – they’re part of my identity.’
‘I understand better than you think. Let me show you something.’
In a box in the attic, her own Chucks, worn to pieces, lovingly wrapped in tissue paper.
What, it’s already
week 4 of FFfPP? How time flies…