Friday Fictioneers – The Way Out

‘You absolutely sure you know the way from here?’

I nodded towards our guide. ‘I just saw someone, on the other side,’ I said. ‘In the distance.’

‘I never says getting out would be easy. But if outs what you want, this is it. Take it or leave it.’

I turned to see my wife and son sheltering against the biting, autumn wind. We had nothing, but here, at least, we had each other. Over the bullet-riddled bridge lay dangers, but with luck, perhaps a chance to give our son opportunities we never had.

Heavy, cold raindrops began to fall.

These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

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Friday Fictioneers – Nom De Plume

They found Uncle Joe in his shed at the bottom of the garden. Nobody had seen him in almost a week.

His body was slumped over what Uncle Nolan said was once their Grandpa’s writing desk. The floor around Joe’s feet was littered with screwed up paper, the desk drawers crammed with bits and pieces from his life.

On the desk sat a blue typewriter. In a neat pile alongside, were bundles of letters thanking a woman called ‘Mrs Betty Bartholomew’ for her ‘submissions’. I didn’t really understand, but Uncle Nolan just smiled as he wiped away a trickle of fresh tears.

These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

Friday Fictioneers – Home Alone

A distant dog howled as a single yellow searchlight passed slowly across the room where we huddled in silence. Outside, the wind continued to shriek. Heavy raindrops crashed against the cottage’s misted window panes. Inside, only one sound, the gentle hiss of a gas lamp above the dusty stone mantle.

“When will father be back?” my sister whispered.

Our Mother’s face was drawn and worn. The empty look in her tear-stained eyes revealed the truth, even if her words remained defiant.

“Soon, child, soon – now sleep.”

A stooping shadow scurried past the window. An impatient knock sounded at the door.

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

This is a much more open-ended piece that I would normally write. However, it’s the scene which came into my mind, so it’s what I wrote. Hopefully you can find your own ending.

Friday Fictioneers – A Dignified Ending

There were no tears to be seen, the only emotion, regret. The young man kneeling on the polished bamboo floor was one born into a life of honour in glory, a life of expectation in defeat. The ritual blade was removed from its golden sheath.

Outside birds sang in the trees. Weeping willows trailed frost covered branches into still, ornamental ponds. A lone servant stood by the door – his head bowed in respectful silence.

A trail of bright crimson trickled across polished bamboo.

From the far side of the courtyard the new emperor’s morning tears echoed through the misty gardens.

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