Stories written for the Sunday Photo Fiction Challenge
I have visited this property once every years ever since my Uncle Billy died. Now, an empty and broken structure sitting at the corner of Main Street and First Avenue, this was once the neighborhood gathering spot and my home.
One week earlier… “Weston? What are you doing here? It’s 3 AM.” I rubbed my eyes.
As his vision slowly returned, three women stood arms folded before him, all donned in black leather.
“Honey, I’m home!” Ross ran into the house and slammed the door.
On a cold winter night, in the depth of the woods, a scream pierced the air.
I understood the risks when I decided to move here to be with my husband – that there was a chance this town would become another Pompeii.
“Do you understand your assignment?” The agent nodded.
“How are you feeling, Reina?” My counselor asked. I shrugged. “Today’s the tenth anniversary of your mother’s death.”
In the middle of the night, banging and hurrying footsteps woke us up. The landlord was evacuating everyone in the building. “Planes had been spotted just outside the city,” He shouted, “They are coming!”
She peered around the corner and spoke into her mouth piece, “What do you see up ahead?”
Hesitant, I turned the knob of her grandfather’s study.
“Who is it?” Sean asked from inside the room.
For the first time in months, she managed to peek outside.
Someone screamed, snapping me back to reality, you need to run, my brain told me as I looked up and watched a million shards of glass hurling toward me like rain. Then, the strangest thing happened. It was like everything stopped, like everyone had become frozen in time while every piece of glass from the…
He followed me and begged. “Just one more chance, please.” I grabbed my purse and threw my hands up. “I’ve given you a hundred chances but you blew it. I’m sorry but that’s it.” I grabbed my son, Michael’s hand. “Come on, baby.”
“Welcome to my ranch!” She said excitingly as she showed him around. “Here you can see my newly renovated stable and this is,” she pulled out a perfectly groom white horse, “Gypsy.” “Wow,” he said, “impressive,” he glanced around the stable, “and you did all this?” “Of course,” she climbed onto Gypsy and patted behind…
Stumbling along the downtown street in the middle of the night, he breathed hard as sweat drizzled down his face while fighting the sharp pain at the side of his abdomen.
Continue from this story… Note: This is 100% fiction! “Erg!” My sister screams and stomps out of the house.
Note: This is 100% fiction! I can hear the gravel crushing beneath as the tires roll along the seemingly unpaved road.
Note: This is 100% fiction written in a seventeen-year-old’s point-of-view.
Her dress billowed as she twirled and danced aimlessly in the middle of the busy New York street.
Note: No matter how I yearn for this situation to come true, this remains 100% fiction.
Note: This is a fantasy that’s been stuck in my head forever, ever since a few years ago when I started obsessing with the supernatural world. Before you ask, yes, my step-father drove a truck and yes, the narrator is me but none of the events happened in the story. THIS IS 100% FICTION!!! This…
