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.


j-hardy-rubble
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.

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SAND

The taxi pulled up at the end of dirt track. Gabi Henriksen got out and asked the driver to wait.

She walked over to the figure standing at the edge of the cliff. The wind blustered, blowing her blonde hair across her face. The waves crashed onto the rocks at the foot of the sheer drop.

‘I thought I might find you here,’ she said.

Detective Anders Sand turned and gave his young partner a sad smile. ‘You are getting to know me then.’

‘Do you want to know?’

‘Guilty?’ Sand said. He turned and looked back at the jagged rocks below.

Gabi nodded. ‘Sexual assault and rape. Sentencing in two weeks.’

‘He’ll get ten and be out in five.’

‘The judge said he would take into account the suicide.’

‘It should be a murder conviction. Hanne may have jumped off this cliff, but it was him that drove her to it.’

They stared at the jagged rocks and the swirling sea.

‘I have a taxi waiting,’ Gabi said.

‘You take it. I’ll make my own way back.’

Gabi left him standing staring out over the cliff into the clear blue abyss.


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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.

This month I am taking part in the A to Z Challenge 2017 – a post each day based on the letters of the alphabet and a theme. My story is a case featuring Detectives Anders Sand and Gabi Henriksen. You can visit my A TO Z CHALLENGE 2017 page here to read the story.

As this challenge will take up a lot of my blogging time I may not get round to commenting on everyone’s posts, but I hope to find time to read all your stories as usual, and still be able to participate in Sunday Photo Fiction each week.

THE ENTERTAINER

The press and public were behind the fence that circled the property, far enough away to prevent them seeing inside the old house.

Horowitz looked out at the growing crowd. News had spread fast.

He had got the call as he was about to end his shift. A dead body, suicide. He recognised the address.

Now he looked at the faded entertainer slumped behind the desk, gunshot wound to the temple. Note on the desk ending ‘Please forgive me.’

The investigation would take time. The grounds would be dug up. The truth about the rumoured bodies would finally be known.


gateway-jhardy
© 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.

AMERICAN BLUES

Having been named after the 32nd and 26th Presidents of the United States of America, Franklin Theodore McDairmid had not lived up to his father’s expectations. Only his father called him Franklin, his mother and grandparents always called him Frank, at school he was Frankie, at college Frankie T. or Frankie T. McD, around the neighbourhood he was known as simply F.T. McD. The reduction of his name as he progressed through life mirrored his father’s receding hopes for his only child.

Continue reading “AMERICAN BLUES”

THE JEWEL AND THE SEA

           The waves lapped on the hull. The mainsail flapped in the gentle breeze. The sun burned. The coast was a hazy blur in the distance behind them. The woman lay motionless on the deck of the sailboat. She lay on her back, basking in the sun’s rays. She wore a white swimsuit and sunglasses.

            From the cabin below a man emerged. He wore a plain t-shirt and shorts. He stared at the woman and made his way along the deck towards her. As he passed by her, his shadow moved over her long, tanned body. He blocked the sunlight from her face. She turned to see him and smiled.

Continue reading “THE JEWEL AND THE SEA”