Barbara Beacham is the kind host of Monday’s Finish the Story. Every week a photo and the first sentence of the story is shared and the challenge is to finish the story in 100 – 150 words. Thanks Barbara for this week’s photo and the challenge.
Finish the story begins with: “When the team heard the dam explode, they knew they had limited time to make it to safety.
Copyright -Barbara W. Beacham
They paddled faster. The angry current made their work effortless. For the first time they could feel the force of gravity. Water was gushing like a death warrant.
They neared the horizon. Everyone knew it was going to be their last breath. The raft was going to submit itself to the thundering noise. Everyone started shouting but the mighty current soon engulfed them. Everything was now calm.
A loud voice shouted, “Aaand…Cut! Great shot, guys.”
A spot boy ran with some dry towels in his hands towards the descent.
Rochelle is the kind host of FRIDAY FICTIONEERS and every week she shares a photo with us. All we have to do is write a story in 100 words. I admire all the writers and enjoy their reads as everyone is likely to tell a different story.
This week’s photo is shared by David Stewart. Thank you David.
In a house, a rocking chair creaked along with the music being played at the gazebo.
“Mama, I’m going.” said Kathy.
The music was still playing when the old lady drifted to sleep.
The next day she woke with a knock at the door. A police officer greeted her. With a photo in his hands he asked, “Do you know her?”
“Sorry, I can’t see.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Let me help you…with….”
“Sure if you could…get my medicine…I can’t….”
“Yes,” said the officer and entered. An uneasy feeling settled as he looked at a photo hung on a wall.
He knew… there will be no medicine for a grieving heart.
green (leaves) the colour of freshness
Fresh is the first ray of morning’s sun
Fresh is the sip of an early morning tea
Fresh is the smell of green grass under my feet
Fresh is the giggle of an innocent child
Fresh is the breeze that flows in the field
Fresh is the taste of a ripe tomato from my kitchen garden
Fresh is the sight of blue sky from my window
Fresh is the feel of cool water running down a stream
Fresh is the first shower of rain
stream running up and down struggling to stay fresh
The last time I looked at a grass it was bright green one day, light green the next, then pale yellow and finally wore a rustic brown. We are just like a blade of grass crossing all the stages of life. But never once I thought that the blade of grass had lost its freshness. It appeared fresh at every stage to me.
There is freshness embedded in every fold of life. If we think yesterday was the same as today and tomorrow will still be the same we might lose to stay fresh. I wonder how the sky has worn the blue garment forever and still looks fresh to us. Being mortals we might wither away some day that is inevitable but we can choose to begin everyday programming ourselves with the thought that – it is a fresh start, it is a new day.
bud – ready for a fresh start of its journey
I would like to thank Rochelle for conducting photo prompts every Friday at FRIDAY FICTIONEERS .This week’s photo is shared by Rachel Bjerke. Thank you Rachel.
Copyright – Rachel Bjerke
Here’s my story…
This is the place where Jane and John used to meet.
They were the village lovers. I secretly admired them. My friends told me not to do anything foolish like them or I’ll bear the same ill fate. They were killed because some people in the village didn’t approve of their love or marriage or both.
Walking past the dried leaves and counting each tree my heart sinks into the tranquility of this place. It is my holy grail.
I find peace in the silence of these torn walls. Waiting for someone’s claim it hangs in time and space.
I am a proud witness of its existence as I sit in admiration of its stillness looking at the hidden patch of sky above me.
Barbara Beacham is the host of Monday’s Finish the Story. Every week a photo and the first sentence of the story is shared and the challenge is to finish the story in 100 – 150 words.
Finish the story begins with: “On March 9th, 2015, three objects were reportedly seen in the skies over the Borracho Todos los Tiempos Vineyards.”
“Did you read this nonsense?” said Tom.
“What?” asked the waitress.
“They have seen some kind of flying objects at some place.”
“Don’t you believe it then,” said the waitress.
“No! Hell no. Can you get the bill for my coffee?”
“There seems to be some kind of mistake in the bill.”
“No,” said the waitress.
“Well you are mistaken. I’m not going to pay for something I’ve not ordered,” shouted Tom.
“Don’t shout. It will drain your energy. We are going to Tiempos Vineyards. We have company waiting….”
“What non…nnn…sen?” said Tom, as he crashed to the floor.
“…waiting to feast on you,” said the waitress with a pleased smile as she dragged him to the kitchen.
I would like to thank Rochelle for conducting photo prompts every Friday at FRIDAY FICTIONEERS .This week’s photo is shared by Sandra Crook. Thank you Sandra.
My story follows the photo.
Photo prompt – Sandra Crook
Two hands were covered in mud and a wooden box was buried deep in the soil. I was made to sit beside it.
As time passed by my branches reached for the sky. Leaves and birds danced to the tune of Mr. Wind but with nighttime all would melt away in darkness.
Life went on as it was for me and the others – relaxed and lazy. Children played in the mornings, gamblers sat in the afternoons and lovers nestled at nighttime.
Then, came change and along with it some strangers.
Times had changed. Now a barbed wire encircled me like a ring. A wooden board was also hammered to the ground which read: Private Property.
Reality was – I was a trespasser in my own land. My fate again rested in a set of hands – only this time, they had an axe.
An apple could keep the doctor away but an orange could brighten your day. I have a notepad and a pen in orange colour. It helps me in my writing process specially during the dull moments.
curtains in orange
During winters I like orange or yellow coloured curtains – they just lighten up the room. In the presence of sun they glow like an orange and in the absence of it… they are just orange. So, an orange is not just a colour…it is more than a colour. It could be a way of life if you have an orange juice everyday.
Photo prompt for Rochelle’s FRIDAY FICTIONEERS is below.
PHOTO PROMPT – © Erin Leary
My daughter Vera is very adorable and mischievous. She has fun finding and hiding things.
The one place I dread her going is the barn. No matter what I do she still is able to find her way to that place.
Dagger our ever faithful dog is always watching her moves. So when she walks towards the barn he comes barking to fetch me.
Today, when I arrive at the barn… I see Vera sitting inside a fairy ring. Mushrooms – her newest discoveries. She had a very pleased look on her face. She giggles as we go inside and Dagger follows us.
We reach inside and now… Dagger goes missing.