Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
No one saw them come. They just appeared overnight. Cages. Thousands of them, millions probably. Everywhere. We stared. Pointed. Hypothesized. Made bets on what had been inside, where they had run off to. Nobody guessed the cages weren’t really empty. Until it was too late.
This 276 character Twittering Tale was written for Kat Myrman’s Challenge to tell a story in 280 characters or less based on the photo courtesy of Tony Dinh at Unsplash.com
I’m not sure when I drifted off or what woke me. The birds? Or maybe the chill in the air? Whatever it was, it interrupted a great dream. We were dancing. Just like we did the night we met. I could still hear the fading beats of Crazy in Love in my mind and I fought to fall back into the music. But it was too late. Consciousness flooded in. Ruining my return to sleep. Spoiling my chance to revel in the hot stickiness of that dance floor.
But even awake, I manage to conjure up the thrill of that night. I remember the pounding music and the flashing lights. Seeing you. Surrounded by people. Laughing and twirling like you didn’t see me. But, I knew you could feel the tension running between us. Crackling like lightening in a storm. Pulling us together. Showing me that you were destined to be the one.
I would have happily sat with that thought longer, but my waking reverie was broken by a shaft of light penetrating the trees. Its brilliance illuminating our special place, as if the gods themselves understood the holiness of that night. The light filled me with almost indescribable joy, but it also signaled that morning has come. Time to hit the road. But I knew I’d be back next year. I never visited the others. But even after fifteen years you’re still special. The first one. Our destiny fulfilled.
This depressing bit of serial murder flash fiction (WC = 241) was inspired by Sue’s beautiful photo prompt (above) (Sorry Sue!! And if it’s too “rated R” for the prompt I understand) and by the challenge to spend a night in a cemetery courtesy of #TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya. Click here for details and other story links.
It was so white. How could that be? Her eyes searched the bed for telltale signs beyond the humps and wrinkles. But she could find nothing. The more she stared, the hazier it all became. Whitewashing her memory till she was convinced. It was just a dream. Not a terrible mistake.
280 characters
Written for Twittering Tales # 125 and inspired by Jay Mantri’s photo.
Find the rules and read other great takes on the photo at Kat’s blog available here.
Mom always hated grandma’s house.
She complained constantly. “It’s like living in a funeral parlor. Flowers everywhere and all that ridiculously ugly gold crap. Hideous!”
Thankfully. Gran refused to change a thing.
Everything was old and kinda tacky but real. That’s what made it special. Her too. She was my safe place. A counter to mom’s incessant need to keep up with whatever was trending while claiming she was “keeping it real.”
So when I came home and found her cradling gran’s favorite gilded roses to her chest. I knew. I’d be keeping it real now. Like it or not.
Written for Friday Fictioners. Thanks for the photo Rochelle.
Get more info and link to other Friday Fictioner stories here.
Six years. No wins. But now it was Frank’s turn. Ten days building alliances. Then a little misdirection. That’s all. It wasn’t cheating. It wasn’t! Real Road fans didn’t need directions to Sprague’s Super Service. He’d be wearing that Route 66 Scavenger Hunt Crown by day’s end!
279 characters
Written for Twittering Tales and dedicated to Ryburn’s Place at Sprague’s Super Center
Tina Stewart Brakebill 