C. Roger Bultot.
They turned their back to the East. Behind them, the mushroom cloud extended up into the heavens. It had been there for weeks. The time had come.
This evening, she’d pulled her wedding dress out of the trunk and squeezed her body into it. It didn’t matter that it couldn’t be zipped, or that the tulle veil had yellowed with time. It didn’t matter that her once profuse bouquet of roses was withered and crumbling. Nothing mattered now.
He held her against his chest; reaching into his pocket, and pulling the pin. ‘… ‘til death do us part, my love.’
If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thank you, Roger Bultot, for this week’s beautiful sunset photo. We’d love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us. You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=b
So, in an effort not to annoy you all with word counts/ plot twists/ and other crazy junk all of next month… It will be National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo.org) and I will be participating in the annual free-for-all writing madness… I’ve set up a separate blog just for that purpose alone. If you’d like to follow the Nano mad – uh, journey- you’re welcome to follow the link below to that blog. The rest, well, I think you know about that.
I did a little word sprint (3 min) today… enjoy.
Oh, btw, hubby got me a nice used monitor (24 inches) so my eyes won’t be strained so much. Thank you, Hubs! Then, last night, I turned on my desktop for the first time since last year (helps to actually have a monitor), and it curled it’s toes and died right there on the desk. Resuscitation proved futile. Smoke detectors blared out the death knell… So, the first complication to the journey has arisen…
Nano is fun, right?
Sliced from Google Maps. Main Street, Littleton, West Virginia.
For all that it was worth, Beatrice was home. Groaning with dismay, she stepped down out of the pickup truck. ‘Thanks, Franklin.’
‘Glad ta’ help, Bea, anytime.’ Franklin tipped his ragged ballcap. ‘I’ll come by later, fix that door for ya’.’
‘Yeah, okay.’ Beatrice sighed as she swung the rusty truck door closed. She watched him drive off, taking her only means of escape with him. She had expected the old place to be run down, but this… A tear formed and rolled down the side of her nose. She took out her cell and placed the call.
‘I’m here, Jack. You’re right.’ Beatrice stepped through the door. ‘I’ll look. But, this place is B-A-D!’
Beatrice stepped carefully over the weather warped boards of the floor, and up the stairs. ‘Cage is still here… don’t see… Uh, Jack…?’
So, what do you think she saw? What did Jack want her to find? Enjoy!
Thank you once again goes to What Pegman Saw for taking us to a new place we’ve never been, this week to Littleton, West Virginia. If you’ve enjoyed this little story, then please, come out and enjoy some others at: https://whatpegmansaw.com/blog/ . Just follow the prompt tag to the little blue frog… your adventure awaits.
C. Ted Strutz
Plaster crunched Sheata cautiously crossed the threshold. Staring at the destruction she felt an overwhelming sense of loss. She was alive; for that alone she was thankful. Sunlight poured into the room through what had been a tall, cathedral ceiling. Dust whirled around her as she reached out to pull a finger through the dust on a table. She stilled, letting her eyes scan the room. The enormity of the destruction matched her feelings of loss. She gulped, fighting for words.
‘Tamia assures me that the children were evacuated before the bombing, but this –…’
‘… Is disturbing.’ Stephen agreed.
Wc: 100 exact.
Author’s note: There is a lot going on for me right at the moment so there’s little time to truly write fresh. I originally wrote this small part of a larger scene back around 1986 -87. At that time, the foster family I was staying with had a chimney fire that gutted the upstairs. I remember walking through the destruction to salvage what we could. Amazingly, a bible sitting right beside the chimney in question was not damaged at all, neither was the table it sat on, though nothing else in the room survived. At last check, the family was still using the bible. Forgive the old write, but I must be off and running again.
My old foster home the day of the fire. Shot by one of the firefighters.
If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thank you, Ted Strutz, for such an inspirational photo this week. We’d love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us. You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=b