Hope is Forever, an Allegory

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Proudly stood that solitary tree amid the ochre bricks and daisy-strewn lawns. It grew where the grass wasn’t mown; a magnet for kids from streets around, its arms constantly full of adventures enacted by marauders, happily distracted from the tedium of long holidays.
So we couldn’t comprehend the sudden death, lightning dealt our friend. The leaves crumbled and the lifeless branches humbled; it remained bare for five years and bound with barbed wire to keep the children down, who just climbed higher.
Until one spring, a sprout of green and branches swarmed again with naive belief and that prodigious disregard for mortality.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Advertisements

The Last Day Mending Nets

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Saline tanned and rope-roughed hands, the old fisherman pulls the needle through and round, over and hitch as he’s always done.
The waves against the sea wall fizzle respect for a worthy adversary; the gulls keen camaraderie from a deferential blue sky.
A disabled, rotting hull, he mends nets but can no longer fish. His stagnant, rock-pooled tears harbour painful pining beneath dead eyes, lamenting brutal years of toil.
Life’s soundtrack of the sea’s noises, fades like a relentlessly turning record slowing to an elegy. There’s a last weary wisp of breath and the needle drops unnoticed to the cobbles.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Circles of Oppression

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

“A cult is a malevolent circle, Mrs Mantle. A circle has no egress.”
“So how do we get her out?”
“She has closed her mind on the proposition of this twisted clique, until she opens it up, she’s lost.”
I looked down into the dregs of my coffee. “She is surrounded by others like ranks of concentric circles imprisoning her; you cannot break through from the outside. The weakness is on the inside. The only weapon, independent thought.”
“You mean she has to think for herself?”
“Is she used to that Mrs Mantle? Has she been allowed to do that before?”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Cold Turkey

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

“Dribble said it was in the goatherd’s hat. There’s loads of ‘em.” Fingal bit his lip; this could get ugly.
“Why Spanish goatherd hats in Liverpool? It’s not exactly goat country.”
He began rifling the mound of woollen hats.
The shopkeeper approached the pair dismantling his display, “Need assistance gentlemen?”
Fingal exchanged looks with Crammer, “Just fancied a goatherd hat.”
“They’re Peruvian alpaca herders’ hats. The goatherd’s are there. We’ve only one…”
“I’ll take it,” blurted Crammer.

Outside, his shaking hands fumbled a tobacco pouch from inside the hat.
“Thank heavens,” sighed Fingal, “I wish Dribble would quit hiding his gear.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Trouble with Moths…

Well I’ve managed another one. I haven’t posted lately as everything is hectic here and I couldn’t commit the time to commenting on others, so didn’t feel I should post mine. Hence I have two or three stories in the bank which will hopefully fit the next time we have a toilet or cold weather for a prompt. I hope you all enjoy this week’s effort and look forward to hearing your views.

 

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Drab moths streamed toward the streetlight, like they had to her when she shone, clamouring to be close and desperate for transference of some of her butterfly colour.
They came mouthing exaggerated air kisses and contrived adulation and drowned her in “Darlings!” and “Looking absolutely gorgeous! Loved the show.”
But with the light fading, the moths deserted her for this year’s sparkle.
Tears of realisation trickled over her raw cheeks.
She slid down the lamppost to slump at its base but firm hands caught her and pulled her up.
“Why? It’s you. You’re here.”
“Always have been, didn’t you notice?”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Cat Lady

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Ann Hall

“Scary cats, Dad. Funny watching the RSPCA man catching them all.”
They picked their way through the gloom, gagging at the stench of overflowing litter trays.
“Why did Auntie have so many cats?”
“They were drawn here, son. She wouldn’t turn them away. If she had, she could have afforded electricity. Light and warmth in the place.”
Some objects on a shelf shone bright through the dilapidation.
“What are they?”
“Urns. To keep loved ones’ ashes.”
“Auntie had so many friends.”
“But she didn’t.”
Andrew read the name on one, ‘Smudge,’ sighing he glanced over the others, ‘Marmaduke, Sox, Empress…’

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Pull of Knowledge

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Jude pushed the little boat into the shallow river before leaping aboard and letting the lazy current begin his meander downstream.
He’d watched the river rolling through their trifling portion of unspoilt countryside his whole life, until the village became a prison to him, where he endured a stifled existence.
His father had left this way all those years ago. His leaving upset Jude’s mother and he had hated him for it but now he understood.
Today he would hurt her all over again, for he too had to know what was beyond the bend and where the river wound.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.