The Dark

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Annie’s gaze kept coming back to the flower high above the rest of the planter, stretching to find one last ray of the sun before it slid under the bridge.

Would the sun get wet when it dropped into the ocean? Is it so hot that even the ocean can’t smother the flame? And why is that flower reaching so hard to catch the warmth? It was never cold here.

But then Annie saw the whole picture, the rest of Mommy’s plants shrouded in darkness, and she understood.

She hated going to bed. There were bad things in the dark.

(PS: Word Press has taken out the little icon that showed the word count. I’ve discovered, though, that if you click on “Block” in the right panel and then highlight your story, it will show the word count. Maybe you’ve all discovered this. I’m a little slow with the tech stuff 🙂 )


The Cliff

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Each time she saw the cliff looming over the shore, she though of a loaf of bread rising in the oven.

Of course, bread was not covered in a crinkly blanket of green. Still, the image warmed her heart with its sense of home. For nearly 21 years, she had opened her eyes to that cliff. It was like a faithful old friend, steadfast, reliable, unchanging–until the earthquake that destroyed everything.

All that was left now was devastation.

She wondered where she would ever find home again.

The Boot

We owned a small motel in central Minnesota for three years.

One evening, a youngish man hobbled into the office. There was a medical boot on his left leg. We checked him in, turned on the “No Vacancy” sign and went to bed.

Morning brought the usual work. I unlocked the door of the young man’s room and nearly threw up from the stench. He had killed a six-pack of beer, tried at some point to use the toilet. He missed. There was a huge, stinking, reeking circle of urine in the carpet.

I ventured into the bathroom and was startled to see the medical boot upside down in the waste basket.

I hope he made it home.


PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

All she could see was shades of black and grey. Not one speck of color. Every day was a repeat of the previous day.

Her bed was her safe place. She could burrow under the blankets and drift off to sleep to escape.

There was no joy.

People had stopped visiting, calling, writing little notes. It was as if she, too, had died.

She got out of bed only to use the bathroom and have a cup of herbal tea.

Soon, she hoped, someone would find her corpse buried under the blankets.



“Bennie, you can’t miss it. It’s the only one down there.”

“Okay, Gianni, but can you describe it more?”

Gianni sighed. “It’s a Citroen Deux, their trademark ugly green. White top.”

“Uuuhhhhh–how about you give me the license plate?”

“Good grief! Okay, it’s DJ-865-TY. Now, would you just GO?”

“Well, why? Do you want to buy it?”

“BENNIE! Maybe, maybe no. Come on, just go take a look!”

“You can’t be too careful——“

Gianni backed his wheel chair from the balcony, frustrated with his friend. “Yes, you CAN be too careful! Life passes you by.”