She stopped at the tire shop, a quiet memento of times passed. It was unfortunate they had to sell it. Her husband had enjoyed running the shop for so many years.
Disaster had struck. When the new mechanic got ill, he accused her husband of poisoning him. The police believed the mechanic and arrested her husband. He was in prison now.
She’d found out since that the mechanic was a pawn in a criminal network of car thieves and a notorious swindler. But could the judge be convinced? She just hoped her husband would be acquitted at the next appeal.
When Ella walked past the terrace the next morning, she saw the empty chairs. This is where it’d happened. He’d chosen to do it in public. Probably to avoid a scene. She felt betrayed.
He’d asked her to join him after work for a drink and she’d been looking forward to it. How silly she now felt. She hadn’t seen this coming.
When she saw him on that terrace, Ella knew something was wrong. He started talking almost immediately. He’d met someone. After living with her for fifteen years, he wanted to start a new life with his boyfriend.
Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff, who provides the photo prompts every week for Friday Fictioneers.
Mist hangs over de river. The haze is blurring the view of trees and dykes in the landscape. In the distance, the bridge has a faint red colour. The dark night withdraws, while the day arrives cautiously.
The early morning train will take me to the airport. An exiting day ahead. I have a lot of preparation to do, but it’ll be worth it.
After shopping and tidying the house, I will prepare the food. My fridge will be filled with drinks, the wood stove will burn and we will gather in the drawing room. Enjoying each other’s company.
Four friends, long lost, but found again. A lot of talking, sharing and catching up. There’s definitely going to be tears. Possibly some due to sadness, but probably most will be tears of joy.
Daily Prompt: Trio No.3
Marie Gail from Being MG challenged us to write a 100-word sequel to her Friday Fictioneers contribution. I’m happy to join. The first 100 words are hers, the second 100 mine.
A Child Shall Lead Them
Her entire life, Miranda had lived on the island, the only child in a community of aging castaways. Few islanders ever had children. Infertility was a side effect of the plague.
By Miranda’s tenth birthday, the community’s population had dwindled to a couple dozen. The radio in the meetinghouse squawked news of proposed hydroelectric developments that would flood the island. Most mainland dwellers believed the quarantined colony extinct.
When planes began buzzing over the island, the islanders hid until Miranda’s papa had an idea. Surely when the mainlanders saw a girl playing on the shore, they would reconsider the development.
Miranda started running. She gathered all the debris she could find. Her dad was watching from his hiding place. What was she doing? Would she be safe?
A week later, Miranda was interviewed by a reporter. She didn’t like the attention, but needed to tell the world about her community. The island dwellers were so proud of her. They couldn’t have imagined the good outcome of it all. One of the pilots had spotted the text on the beach. Please. A small word, but with the most amazing impact. The island was now a national park.
Photo Prompt – Friday Fictioneers
Dad drives our camper. He’s looking for a place to park. I hope we’ll stay near the pond. I can watch the birds after dinner. I like birds. Sometimes I wish I were a bird, that I could fly anywhere I wanted, stay wherever I liked. Not this, always traveling.
Wouldn’t it be nice to make friends? I like my brother, but he is so small. And mom and dad are always discussing grown-up things I shouldn’t hear. But I know they are afraid, afraid they will find us. And that’s why we move, every day, to another home.
I ‘found’ this story by typing away for ten minutes: the Ready, Set, Done-assignment of today’s Daily Prompt. The editing took much longer than that…
Photo Prompt – Copyright: Douglas M. MacIlroy
Joe lives in a house with a shed. He has sixteen fellow residents. And there’s personnel, most of them in white coats. Joe likes the shed in the garden by the sea. That’s where he makes things. New things from old things. And sometimes he alters things.
Joe changed the alarm clock. He let the numbers fall down, no need for them. He wrote his own name in the middle: Joe Boxer. Now the alarm clock is ready. And tomorrow morning, when the alarm rings, he won’t be confused. He will know that the alarm he hears, is his.
I am very late this week, but still wanted to submit my entry. Tomorrow, there’s a new photo prompt and hope I’ll finish my entry sooner!
Today I met a woman. I think she was in her late thirties. She’s a little short, not too thin, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. She had short hair, I think it’s dark brown.
We met at the hairdresser’s and started talking while waiting for the colour of our hair to sink in. It was a wonderful encounter, one that surprises you a bit. I don’t know why, but I was inspired by her.
I thought she was nice and friendly and truly interested in the people around her. We talked about life, work, family and friends. She was living an interesting life, not very extraordinary – like somebody who would travel the world to fight for human rights – but more in a way of how she put everything together. She told me her husband is working abroad, while she has a job in her home-country. They travel a lot to see each other every few weeks.
She appeared to be an independent, intelligent, kind and good-natured woman. Self-conscious about how she lives her life, making choices that enable her to maintain a career, while not neglecting her husband and friends. They seem to have a relation in which they encourage each other to be the best person they can, both in their work and to each other, their families and friends.
Although I think it’s a bit hard to live away from your husband and travelling so much to have it all, she told me it was definitely worth the effort. We had a great conversation and I think we could be friends. Next week we’re meeting again for a nice cup of coffee.
Today’s Daily Prompt: Reverse Shot – What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene — from the other person’s perspective.** I couldn’t think of an early memory, but was inspired by the prompt to write about what someone else would think when meeting me for the first time. It turned out to be a mixture of who I am and who I would like to be. This twist of the daily prompt ended up being an interesting exercise in thinking about how I see myself and how other people may see me. Enjoyed it!