Sunday Photo Fiction: June 15th 2014

Every week on a Sunday, a new photo is used as a prompt for Flash Fiction challenge using around 200 words based on that image. Your story does not have to be exactly what the item in the photo is as long as there is at least a reference to it. You can make it anything you want, and enjoy what you write, and we will as well.

Please remember to add your piece to the list of others by clicking on the little creature, and you can also add the creature to your own post by clicking on the link beneath it. Have fun, and I look forward to reading what you have written.


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64 06 June 15th 2014

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19 thoughts on “Sunday Photo Fiction: June 15th 2014

  1. AnElephantCant take the high road
    Sometimes he can’t take the low one
    But once more he is back
    For a day out with Jack
    On a boat trip out on bonnie bonnie Loch Lomond

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  2. The Wishing Well

    Mayans predicted apocalypse, well they didn’t really, their calendar just ended. They knew something big was going to happen.
    The earth exploded, imploded whatever, it spewed up its insides, everything we’d buried. The outer skin littered with shiny white bones and broken tombstones.
    Some clean up job. I couldn’t be dealing with the stripped anatomies stacked like mountains around us reminding me of my own inevitable mortality. I wanted to make something to outlast me to still stand when there’s nothing left of me but bone, all flesh fallen away with decay. So I volunteered to use my chisel and sculpture apprenticeship to deal with the stone. That way I could escape.
    There was something about the rhythmical chipping and tapping that allowed me to be outside myself. I could watch myself become statue. Veins bulging, muscles constrained, tendons in fingers plucked. Dust rising like steam, immersing me in it, covering me in a film of white residue until I was part of the stone.
    Change isn’t always such a bad thing. The sight of jagged higgledy piggledy headstones always reminded me of an awl fella’s mouth full of rotten teeth. As long as I didn’t have to be looking at human’s skeletal history I could recover and get over the whole implosion of the earth and carry on living.
    When I re-entered my body and felt the ache in my hands. I dusted myself off to stand back and see what I’d made. A dainty little wishing well conveniently doubled as somewhere to put all the bones. Instead of coins we made wishes on the souls of our ancestors.

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