GRANDPA’S LUCKY SHOES

The black leather gleamed.

It had taken a lot of scrubbing and polishing to restore them to this state. The nest of spiders in the toe of the right shoe was a nasty surprise.

They slipped onto the withered feet with ease.

‘Why the old shoes?’ the undertaker’s assistant asked.

‘Family request. Apparently they were his lucky shoes.’

‘Wonder what made them lucky?’

The undertaker shrugged. ‘British Army issue, First World War.’

‘Could’ve taken better care of them.’

‘Perhaps he couldn’t face what he managed to survive.’

Task completed the coffin was closed over ready for the funeral tomorrow.


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Copyright Sarah Potter

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

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MARKSMANSHIP

The first one was for the mother-in-law. Ten years of interference and nagging. I felt the anger start to build. I was never good enough for her daughter. Well, now she had what she wanted. Harley was gone. I took a deep breath. I squeezed the trigger. 200 yards away the china tea cup exploded into pieces.

I moved onto the next cup. The best friend. Every time there was an argument Harley would run to her. Then I would get Samantha screaming down the phone at me, or hammering at the door, threatening to show me what a weak man I was. The cup disappeared in a puff of small particles.

The last cup was for Harley herself. She was coming over now to collect the last of her things. She wouldn’t get her precious tea set. Ten years worth of shared existence. Now, nothing. Dammit, I could feel the tears welling up again. I squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew wide. The cup remained untouched. I heard the windscreen shatter, the screech of tyres and then the crunch of metal hitting the wooden fence.


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Copyright Dawn Miller

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Al Forbes. For more details visit HERE.

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

STORM DAMAGE

The boxes of her water-damaged possessions took up three-quarters of the hotel room.

Until the destruction caused by Hurricane Matthew was repaired this was her home. The restoration firm said they would gain access next week. Until then, all she could do was sit and wait.

The flowers of condolence sat on the table. They stared at her, a constant reminder.

Bill was missing presumed dead, a victim of the storm.

She prayed that the cement in the cellar had dried in time and held once the water receded.


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Copyright Dale Rogerson

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

HITMAN

Phillips pressed himself against a wall. The alleyways of the old town were the ideal place to confront his pursuer.

He had noticed her in the bar earlier. He flattered himself that she was paying particular attention to him out of personal attraction.

She had followed him when he left. Hitmen were becoming dangerously attractive these days.

The footsteps drew closer.

‘Are you willing to negotiate?’ Phillips called out.

‘My employer will accept only one outcome.’ Her voice was smooth as silk.

Phillips consoled himself that this time was self-defence.

He raised his switchblade to neck height and stepped out of the shadows.


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© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

The character of Phillips previously appeared in my short story OLD FRIEND.

SUNRISE / SUNSET

Peter Jones was born at sunrise on a summer’s day.

He enjoyed a happy childhood, living with his loving parents and two older siblings in their small one bedroom tenement flat.

He enjoyed playing with his friends, kicking a football up and down the street. At school he enjoyed sports and reading stories of lands far away.

The war started when he was 14. When he turned 18 he was called up for military service.

He enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers during brief training with the infantry. His first trip abroad was part of the D-Day landings. He looked forward to seeing a foreign land for the first time.

On Gold beach, near Arromanches, he survived the onslaught while many of his new friends perished.

Two days later Peter Jones was shot by a German sniper while enjoying a cigarette watching the sunset over the town of Bayeux. As he took his last breath he thought it was the nicest sunset he had ever seen.

He died alone in the field and was buried in an unmarked grave next to a church.


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Copyright Footy and Foodie

Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story in around 150 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.

To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.