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.

LITTLE SISTER

Daniel placed the doll carefully on top of the pile.

He struck the match and held it next to the teddy bear.

The flame grew. It consumed all the toys.

When his mother came running out the house it was too late.

***

‘Why did you burn your sister’s toys, Daniel?’ his father asked him that evening.

‘Because Mummy’s always crying in Lily’s room with them.’ Daniel said. ‘I was trying to make her happy again.’

His father gave Daniel a hug and kissed him on the head.

‘It’s not the toys that make her sad, Daniel.’


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Copyright Karuna

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.

WRECKAGE

The forensic investigators had gone. The security forces had abandoned the scene. Demolition signs and safety warnings adorned the perimeter fence that surrounded what was left of the museum.

I stumbled through broken piles of furniture, shattered glass and mangled steel. Rubble and dust covered everything.

They told me she may never be found. If she had been standing next to the bomber there may be no remains. They had tested all the samples they had lifted. Results were inconclusive.

My daughter was listed as missing presumed dead. I searched on through the wreckage.

My life lay in the ruins around me.


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Copyright J. Hardy Carroll

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 scenes from Manchester are very much in my mind this week. My thoughts are with everyone involved, especially the parents and children. My apologies if this piece upsets anyone reading it.

DEFIANCE

They sat by the sea watching children play on the beach.

‘Alright?’ he put his arm around her shoulder.

The tears slowly running down her face gave him his answer.

It had taken her twenty years to return. Years of pain and guilt. She had been their teacher. They had trusted in her. She was supposed to protect them.

A school outing before the summer holiday began. A visit to the local museum for a bit of history and then a trip to the beach. It wasn’t her fault the terrorists had come that day.

The images still haunted her. They would never leave her. The panic, the terror, the fear in those young faces. The blood. The dead.

Governments fought aimless wars and encouraged segregation and hate. Religions tried to absolve themselves of blame. Terrorists continued to kill with no purpose, never furthering their cause.

She was beyond all this. She had only her memories and sorrow. She wouldn’t let them count her as their victim. She was here. She had not let them win.

This was her defiance.


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Copyright The Storyteller’s Abode

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.

Influenced by events in Manchester this week, my thoughts are with all involved, especially those children and parents affected by this devastating and abhorrent act.

X IS FOR X-RAY

The doctor held up the x-ray to the light box for Camilla and Sand to see. He pointed with his pencil as he spoke. ‘You see these areas of darkness here and here.’

Camilla nodded. Sand felt her hand reach over and tightly grab his knee.

‘I’m afraid that means the cancer has spread into your lungs,’ the doctor paused. Camilla let out a small sob, her head bowed. She knew what that meant.

Sand wanted clarification before he could believe it. ‘So the chemotherapy has failed?’

The doctor put the x-ray down and clasped his hands, leaning forward earnestly. ‘I’m afraid it’s worse than just the chemotherapy failing, Mr. Sand. The cancer has spread from the bowels. We will run tests but it appears to be in the pancreas and the lungs already.’

‘Then what do we try next?’ Sand asked. He already knew the answer, but he couldn’t accept it. Continue reading “X IS FOR X-RAY”