Fishville #3

abandoned-1949169_960_720

Courtesy of Pixabay.com, copyright & royalty free photo source.

 

She sank down onto the stairs that twisted up to the second floor and let the tears come. This was her home, now, complete with the memories and the obvious disrepair.

Built at the turn of the twentieth century, the house had been a prominent home for a very wealthy doctor and his family. The small, squalid addition had been his office. Now, the walls were peeling paint and plaster. The once richly polished woodwork was dull and scratched. Many of the staircase’s banister legs were missing or broken. And everything was covered in inches of dust and rodent droppings.

Even as she sat drying her eyes, Kelly could see the red glow of mouse eyes watching her. She shivered, mentally adding traps to the top of her needs list. The house, as it stood, simply was not livable. She heaved a deep sigh. It hadn’t been habitable when she’d lived here twenty years ago, so why did she think it would be so, now.

‘Well, there’s no use crying about it anymore.’ Kelly mumbled, patting the memory chip again. ‘Soon, not today, but soon.’

 

61 W Xenia Ave

Courtesy of google maps.

Fishville #2

 

61 W Xenia Ave

Courtesy of google maps.

PREVIOUSLY:

It was a town where everyone knew everyone’s business, whether intentionally or not. A town where the newspaper subscriptions were low, but the local diner’s coffee consumption was high. And yet, it was the secrets that no one knew that would lead to an end to life as they’d always known it. Some secrets could even kill.

Kelly knew of one such secret. It was a secret she held close to her heart everyday. A secret that would too soon manifest itself. …

And now, …

Smiling, she placed a hand over the hidden data chip. On it, was a lifetime of secrets that could, and would, tear the town apart. She licked her lips as she thought about the depth of her revenge for the life of hell she’d been forced to endure within the fish bowl.

After all, revenge was sweetest when served cold. And, hers was frozen solid, she thought as the cab came to a stop in front of the old grey Victorian manse that had once been her home.

She slid out of the cab, old brass keys jingling in her shaking hand. It had been twenty years, but it seemed like yesterday. Her mind took her back to her childhood and the squalid existence she’d lived in the little addition to the main house. Now, she was back, but this time as owner of the property in whole.

Kelly watched as the cab driver set her luggage on the porch beside the door. As he returned she gave him a hefty tip and a genuine thank you.

‘Just be careful, Ma’am. Those steps and porch are not the best.’ He tipped his battered hat to her.

‘I’ll be careful.’ She smiled and nodded back. Then, as he drove away, she gulped and headed up the sidewalk.

The old lock crunched and snapped as she turned the key. It was the first thing she’d be replacing. The door squealed  and screamed as she pushed hard against it. It opened only a crack. It took a shoulder and her full weight to open it enough to get inside.

As she looked around and up through the foyer, memories settled heavy on her shoulders. A sob caught in her throat, echoing through the barren rooms.

wc: 295

 

 

Split

Dale Rogerson

C. Dale Rogerson

No one noticed it at first, the splitting of the eastern skies. No one noticed at first, the sudden disappearance of millions from their work, their home, their life on earth. No one, that is, except the cameras on every corner, the guards at every avenue. Escape from the ghettos and evil regimes of the world seemed impossible; and it was for too many. But for the few, the chosen ones, nothing was impossible as the eastern skies split and light flooded into the darkness of the world.

When it was noticed, they looked up…

What happened? They asked.

Wc: 99

 

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, Dale Rogerson for such an inspirational photo this week. We 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

Fishville

Sarah Potter

C. Sarah Potter

Author’s Note: Please, dear ones, feel free to use this as a writing prompt. 🙂

 

It was a town where everyone knew everyone’s business, intentionally or not. A town where newspaper subscriptions were low, but the local diner’s coffee consumption was high. And yet, it was the secrets that no one knew that would lead to an end to life as they’d always known it. Some secrets, after all, could kill.

Kelly knew of one such secret. It was a secret she held close to her every day. It clung to her like an old ivy vine to one of the stone houses. A secret that could topple the entire social structure of the town.

wc: 100 – EXACTLY

Author’s Note: Please, dear ones, feel free to use this as a writing prompt. 🙂

 

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, Sarah Potter for such an inspirational photo this week. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=bAuthor’s Note: Please, dear ones, feel free to use this as a writing prompt. 🙂

Hero Worship… cont’d…

 

Author’s Note: I was so inspired by last week’s visit to the in Kanchanaburi War Cemetery , in Thailand presented to us by “What Pegman Saw” that I had to stay a bit longer there. While surfing pics from the cemetery, I came across a blank stone, and it fit perfectly for the continuation of yesterday’s story. So, indulge me a little, and 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.

33371908-kanchanaburi-war-cemetery-don-rak-the-allied-war-cemetery-in-kanchanaburi-town-holds-the-graves-of-a

Hero Worship, cont’d…

Behind her, Takarna heard the faint rasp of cloth against stone and looked up. She cocked her head slightly at the robed figure.

‘I was told I’d find you here.’ Senna spoke as he stepped closer.

‘How may I serve?’ She asked out of tradition.

‘He is the one, is he not?’ Senna gestured towards the stone.

Takarna ducked her head slightly in answer.

‘Would that I had had the opportunity to meet him. I would have liked to have thanked him for his service, and for saving your life. His service continues to be my greatest blessing.’ He allowed the corners of his mouth to raise slightly in a smile he reserved only for her.

‘I wanted to come before we left.’ She reluctantly admitted. ‘We may never…’

Senna held out his hands, encouraging her to grasp them. ‘It is more than understood.’

Together, they continued on. At each stone, they paused and prayed. Each time, he saw the face that went with the face within her mind. He knew her enforced role in the camps; knew firsthand the toll it had taken on her psyche. And so, he continued with her, lending his support.

It was hours after sunset when Takarna paused at the last small stone. It was a stone that bore no name; yet, bore them all. It was a stone to honor all the unknown and forever lost. It stood above the last sealed entrance to the Enclave Creche. Well below them lay the miles of collapsed tunnels and cryo-birth chambers. Chambers filled with thousands of dead embryos, infants, and children who would never be named. Here, she paused much longer, reluctant almost to say her final farewells.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, she squeezed Senna’s hand. ‘It is time.’

 

Hero Worship

Kanchanaburi war cem

Takarna walked the row, pausing at each stone, muttering a prayer before moving on. Every stone she paused at bore a name she knew, a face she remembered. Tears fell unheeded as she sank to her knees beside the newest stone.

Takarna remembered the feel of the bullets slamming into her body with white-hot pain. She closed her eyes. The memories that would not leave. They pulled her down into the mass grave, covered her with bloody bodies. Struggling, she pushed up through the death that surrounded her. Hunched over against the pain, she followed the shadows of a building, crawling underneath, hoping she wasn’t seen.

Then, he was there, lifting her out, tending to her wounds. Giving her his precious allotment of water and food so she would live. He could have, should have, turned her over to the guards. Most would have. He didn’t. Now, she wept.

Wc: 149

Author’s Note: If you’re game, and want a little more (298words) to the story, then follow this link: https://jellicostation84.wordpress.com/2017/06/02/hero-worship-contd/?preview_id=1596&preview_nonce=2844ec71bf

 

Thank you once again goes to What Pegman Saw for taking us to a new place we’ve never been, the  Kanchanaburi War Cemetery , in Thailand. 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.

If you’re game, and want a little more (298words) to the story, then follow this link: https://jellicostation84.wordpress.com/2017/06/02/hero-worship-contd/?preview_id=1596&preview_nonce=2844ec71bf

 

Nursery #410…

Karuna.png

 

Dank. Acrid. Sickening sweet. Death’s smell… pure and simple.

Taki gulped, wrinkling her nose as she dumped another shovel of debri on the screen. A small form appeared. Steel bracelet intact. Body, half melted, half rotted. Her eyes stung. She forced a hard swallow, cutting off a scream.

‘Reni.’ Her voice rose.

‘Yep?’ He paused, leaning on the handle of his shovel.

‘I – You need to see this.’ She swallowed hard, holding back vomit.

Reni joined her. ‘Aw, no. Not another one.’

‘Three.’ She choked out.

Silence fell over everyone.

wc: 90

 

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, Karuna for such an inspirational photo this week. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=bif