Sunday Photo Fiction: Part 3 – Nineteen-Years Later


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


Mountain homes
A Mixed Bag.

Before they had taken their first flight, Uncle Sam had asked Chad for the calligraphy written letter. They had stopped at a courier and he had the letter sent quickly to a friend.

After weeks travelling, the final leg of their journey ended in the mountains of Switzerland. They traveled by Gondola, before following a path to a sheltered stone doorway in the mountain. Chad had seen windows barely visible on the mountain side.

A man greeted Uncle Sam as they arrived at surprisingly luxurious hide-away.

“Sam, you scared me. I got your letter two-weeks ago.”

“Bastian, this is Chad. We were in New Haven to visit Yale, but the situation escalated quickly. We’re being tracked; the Navy is after us.”

“It has to do with Tom, doesn’t it?”

” It’s why I wrote you Bastian. You were in the Marine’s with Tom. You were there that awful night.” Sam said.

“There was a critical reason Tom had to tell me about it; he had to protect Chad and Mona. She was sent into hiding as you promised, Bastian?”

Chad had to say something: “Mona, My Mom, Mona?”

Bastian scrutinized Chad.”Your Mom is fine Chad. I’ve friends keeping her safe. You know, you look a lot like your Dad.”

“What exactly did my Dad do?” Chad demanded turning to his Uncle.”Back at the hotel in New Haven you promised to tell me everything.I deserve to know what happened.”

Uncle Sam opened his mouth, then the windows exploded. Men in black clothing and masks came in on ropes into the house.

Bastian tossed Chad a gun. “You know how to use this right?”

Chad nodded, running for cover behind the kitchen island. Bullets dinged off metal and splintered wood. He had to shoot one man who came around the island.

When Chad saw the body drop, blood dripping from a bullet hole in the man’s masked forehead, his stomach knotted.

He watched, rapt, as Uncle Sam and Bastian killed eleven other men.


Please See Here for Part 2.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: She Looks Like Gollum


Thanks to Alistair Forbes the gracious host of SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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“Wow Mom. Can we do this going back the other way?” Tyson pleaded.

“Yeah, Ty of course we can do the gondolas on the way back. How else would we go back down the mountain?” 

“We could walk?” Tyson suggested, shrugging.

” I think we should go to the museum about the mountain and town that used to be here. Then we can walk to a few look-out points, before taking take the gondola down.” Trish said.

She held Tyson’s baby sister in a snuggy. Trish peered down at tiny Dora. 

“Look who’s awake Tyson.” He made a face at Trish, regarding Dora with destain. 

“She’s ugly. I thought girls were supposed to be pretty; she could be Gollum.”

Trish swatted Tyson playfully. “Don’t call your sister Gollum.” He giggled. 

“She’ll grow into herself. You’ll be playing the role of her protective big brother in no time.”

Tyson laughed. “I think I’ll be protecting the boys from her…”

Suddenly, he felt the gondola fall. It haulted, hanging from half the original cable at an angle.

Dora was crying and Tyson was afraid. His arm hurt terribly and was at an odd angle. Tyson’s Mom kept repeating prayers, tears leaking from her eyes.

“I take it back Dora is pretty,” Tyson cried thinking his words had made God mad at him.  That had to be why is Mom was praying so much.

Ten minutes later a helicopter arrived saving Tyson and his family. Tyson was thrilled to be riding in a helicopter, even with a broken arm.

 He patted Dora’s head as she wriggled in the snuggy his Mom still wore.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.