PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson
He gazed at the delicate line of her neck, tracing with his eyes along her collar-bone.
“Josh, are you listening?” Carrie cocked her head to one side, blue eyes sparkling, blonde hair flowing with the breeze.
“Huh? What were you saying?” He slipped his hand into his pocket.
“So you always come here?” she looked at the bubbling creek, and bare trees.
“It’s better in the spring.” He tried not to think of the other women.
She shivered. “It’s cold.”
He drew a blade from his pocket. Only the trees heard her screams, but they would never tell.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Thanks to Karen Rawson for this week’s prompt which inspired me to write my thriller-date-gone-horribly-wrong flash fiction.
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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
He shut the closet door and sank into the darkness. Mark clasped his hands over his ears to silence the buzzing. But he was helpless against the visions that replayed in his mind.
Blood. On a single gold hoop earring. Matted brown hair. He tasted bile in the back of his throat.
Three days later his wife’s body was found near the beach and he was arrested. The detective presented the evidence bag containing the stained earring they found in his car. Nausea enveloped him as he tried to remember. He had kissed her goodnight. But after that – nothing.
I struggled with this image. Everytime I tried to think of something, all I could see was crinoline… Probably because I had read Rochelle’s post first.
So I went back to my thriller roots, and saw jewellery instead in those suspended circular artwork things. I’m not sure if my main MC is guilty or not. Looking forward to seeing your thoughts in the comments. Thank you, Dale Rogerson, my friend, for this week’s image!
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog icon to read more flash fiction from other super cool writers.
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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Bindi split the wood with a satisfying crack. Sarah always asked her why she did men’s work. Sarah did nothing but sit pretty. And since she had come to her homeless and in need, Bindi had come to hate her backstabbing, ungrateful ways.
“Have you seen Sarah anywhere?” Her husband Greg appeared unexpectedly. Wouldn’t you like to know? she thought.
Gazing off into the forest bordering their farm, she shrugged. “Probably ran away again.”
A smear of blood near the axe handle caught her eye.
“We ought to get a new axe. This one has seen its last.”
This serene picture of chopped wood discs, (thanks to Rochelle for this week’s image) inspired me back to thrillers. Guess where Bindi hid Sarah’s body?
Written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.
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PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name
Abdul stared at the smartphone. Cold fear gripped his heart. It seemed Karima left an audio diary on her phone. The police wouldn’t help him if they heard this.
He pressed play again, “Frankfurt. That’s where I’ll go. Simply pointed to a place on the map, blindfolded. That’s how much I don’t care anymore. Life is dreary here. My soul longs for adventure.”
His sister’s voice pulled at his heart through the mounting fear. He had to find her. Human trafficking was on the rise. Girls disappeared every week.
Karima was always reckless, but she’d never leave without saying goodbye.
Had a busy few weeks at work handling crisis after crisis, and kept me away from writing and Friday Fictioneers. But I’ve clawed my way back and I’m glad to be here this week!
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge is to write a full stroy in 100 words or less.
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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bulltot
They watched her from behind a damaged pillar. She came alone as they instructed her to do. She opened the ransom note they sent her and studied its contents.
It should have struck Jason as odd. There was nothing but a few lines in it. Chris grinned as he gripped the boy’s arm with one hand. The gag stuffed in his mouth muffled the boy’s pleas.
The next minute a helicopter droned overhead.
“It’s the damned police!” Jason yelled, “Get rid of the boy!”
Chris pulled a firearm from inside his jacket with a sly grin, “Sorry Jason. Game’s over.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers where the challenge is to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Hosted by Rochelle.
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PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young
Shona pulled up her collar. A fine mist gathered around the group, complicit in their betrayal.
Everything about death was cold. Light leaves the eyes. Blood stops flowing, warmth dissipates. But this arm, though limp in her grasp, felt warm.
She wished she could turn back time. Just an hour. Before it all went wrong. She knew they were on the point of no return as they tossed their friend into the shallow hole in the ground, and covered her with dirt. Shona watched till the dirt piled high, then they patted it flat and covered it with dry leaves.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the awesome Rochelle where we’re challenged to write flash fiction, an entire story with beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less.
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