Friday Fictioneers – One August Morning

ff080715My ears and nose were bleeding; the scorching heat had burnt the skin from my hands.

High above our city, a cloud rose gracefully into a perfect, blue morning sky – it was so beautiful, a shimmering haze of reds, yellows and greens.

The suffocating, hot air was filled with sounds of terror and despair. I couldn’t find my mother.

On the corner where our house once stood, now nothing, but smouldering timbers and dust-covered rubble. In my confusion, I briefly doubted that a home had ever existed in this place.

The pitiful screams became louder; the sparkling cloud rose slowly higher.


These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

21 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – One August Morning

    1. paulmclem Post author

      Thanks, Bjorn. Actually saw a documentary on Hiroshima a couple of days ago. One of the people interviewed mentioned how the mushroom cloud looked beautiful – an array of glistening colours. That’s where the story came from 🙂

  1. Sandra

    The descriptions of the cloud really made this story; the colours – the use of the word sparkling. A jaw-dropping form of contrast. Well done.


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