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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Photo Challenge: Petrarchen Sonnet – “When Autumn Falls” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt on the changing of seasons into Fall and how it influences our thinking.

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Credit: Mara Eastern with permission.

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Leaves begin to change, butterscotch yellow, 

The reds and oranges blaze into being.

I’ve even seen dark purple plum seeming, 

To alter green from summers pleasant glow.

Sunlight fades to shorter nights, cold wind blows.

Shorts and sandals packed, sadly left dreaming.

Of gorgeous nights spent breathing warmth, now seeing —

Prayers streaming to God, please yet keep the snow. 

——–

Favourite season, feel comfortable walking, 

Strewn leaves, scented decay and pleased —

On the porch still sipping wine and talking.

No sunburns now, most loved fashion season, 

Fancy boots and shoes; snow please stop stalking. 

Always unwanted, snow comes, lace knocking.

——

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers – Part III Our House – Flasback to the Clown and a House all Their Own. 


Theo the house . . . where did you find it it’s magnificent! I mean it’s not our blue house but look at that back porch and the view. It has so much potential!

I knew you’d love it Vanessa. That’s why I bought it!

You bought it, you mean this is ours? Well I haven’t been so happy since we escaped those kidnappers 10 years ago . . .

It turns out, Theo had had a knife in his back pocket and pulling a James bond, had cut his ropes in the distorted mirrors room and found Vanessa and cut her ropes too. They had ran madly from the clown with the knife when they realized the clown wasn’t chasing them but the kidnappers. It had been a bloody time when the the clown slashed and stabbed the kidnappers to death. Theo and Vanessa had found there way out of the funhouse and taken their car back to town in shock.

What’s that? 

That’s when Theo saw the clown coming towards them a big grin on his plastic face. The clown waved and went on his way.

Word Count: 180 aprox.

Theo's and Vanessa's back porch.
Theo’s and Vanessa’s back porch.

Thanks to Priceless Joy for organizing FFfAW. Want to participate?

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/author/pricelessjoy/