Sunday Photo Fiction: A Gory Death Becomes #amwriting #fiction #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF.


Credit: C.E.Ayer


Dust rose thick in the air, and the August sun scorched. The foreman and his workmen dripped sweat, and Natasha Roberts supervised her redesign.

The home’s white-washed stucco matched an aqua-tiled and white kitchen with ice-blue tones carrying into the great room. Glints of multi-colored metal, and a 1920’s inspired bar created a unique entertaining space.

The master-bedroom’s giant windows combined with simplified Art-Decl luxury. In contrast, original barn-doors with glass panes to the balcony, matched the ones downstairs that opened to an outdoor living space.

Natasha admired her creation; she was excited to make the house stylish, and to skim extra profit unbeknown to her clients.

The foreman yelled to her and she scoffed. “I’m coming.” What a hick.

She turned in red stilettos, her ruby dress swirling with its bell-sleeves. She teetered, and her heel caught on the sand-stone patio. Natasha screeched and her body lunged; her ankle and heel snapped. She crushed into white-washed walls, raven hair fanning as she fell.

The foreman witnessed Natasha’s death. He swore as her blood gushed, and crossed himself when he perceived she had no pulse.

Years later, he dreamed of Natasha’s mouth in a daily spitting-rage towards his skilled-workers. He remembered her scream as her ankle twisted at the same awkward angle as her neck. Nightmares haunted him; he believed Natasha deserved her gory end.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

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3LineTales: Sailing In Love, Remembering His Dad, The Tuna Who Ate Willy.


Thanks to Sonya from 100 Words Or Less for hosting this prompt.

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Charlie Harutaka

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1. I adore the colour oceanic blue, it’s almost turquoise with a hint of green in it; our sale boat has stripes of oceanic blue across it’s sails and I look up at them with appreciation as the sails flutter and dance in the strong winds of the ocean; In awe I stare at the finely muscled man guiding the sail boat and letting it go as he greets me with a hedonistic kiss, and I stare into his oceanic blue eyes as he loves me in our cabin below deck.

2. My name is Charlie and I am five-years-old; I don’t know my Dad but my Mom says he liked to sail and that this summer she is going to take me sailing like my Dad and her used to do; I can’t wait, every night I play with the toy ship my Dad gave me (although Mom says it’s not a toy but something to remember Dad by) and I pretend I am sailing the ocean with my Mom and my Dad; we sail everywhere, the three of us together.

3. His face had deep-set wrinkles as if they had been creased on his withered skin forever; he smoked a pipe and I recall the whirls of smoke curling up into the air as he sat inside the coffee shop/bate shop and considered his fishing boat; his name was Willy and Willy and his crew went out everyday in his fishing boat to where the most gigantic Tuna swam; they were huge fish, and some brought in near ten thousand dollars; the story goes, one day Willy set out to catch the biggest Tuna he had ever seen and instead of catching the Tuna on his fishing rod, the line snapped and Willy tumbled into the ocean and was swallowed by the enormous Tuna; Willy’s never been seen again.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.