I didn’t like our neighbor, he frightened me.
“Get to know him,” my Grandmother had advised me and that’s why I was standing here and watched this cruel man holding a tiny bird.
Tag: <span>Friday Fictioneers</span>
Every time I see a boat, my mind wanders back to that night.
We had been dancing, and guys we knew had invited us to a special, nightly cruise on a boat.
Of course, we went, and all was fine for a while. Then the flirting stopped, and the guys told us that this special cruise came with special demands -demands we were not willing to fulfill.
“This was my first accident,” Marlise said with laughter in her voice.
Grandma didn’t find it funny at all.
It’s Wednesday, time for another post,
more fiction, a short story,
based on a photography.
Marlene had searched for her mother’s grave for a very long time.
All those years she had wondered what she would feel, surprisingly she didn’t feel anything.
Often she brings home a pizza from the little Italian café at the corner.
She turns on the music, listens to Dean Martin and opens a bottle of wine.
Every Sunday he took his bike and drove across town.
He would be gone all day; it was his weekly workout, that’s what the neighbors thought.
All day long she sat in her small tower and watched the horizon. She had the harbor log, knew the names and the origins of the ships that arrived that day.
Everywhere we look there are fences, telling us to stay away or at least so I thought until I met a little boy, who wasn’t allowed to come out. He was fenced in; his parents didn’t want him to play with us.
It’s the clock for all life here on earth; it shows us how much time we have left to make it right. Once the handle reaches 12 o’clock, it will be all over.