A Sign of the Times

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Dusty walked down the deserted alley, the stones warm under his bare feet. Years ago, people would have packed the narrow passage like sardines. Not anymore.

He banged a rock against one of the metal pipes embedded in the wall. The sound reverberated through the alley.

Hideous creatures—disfigured, heartless things that had once been human before some psychopath started playing with chemical weapons—poured through broken windows and crooked doors into the cramped space.

Dusty retreated to the relative safety of the sewer, praying for the two bound children he’d left out there: an offering to appease the beasts.

—

This one didn’t come easily, and, as always, I have no idea if it’s good, mediocre, or shit. But I’m moderately happy with it, so I guess that’s good enough, right?

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

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Remembering Rebecca

PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz

Rebecca  could see good in all the wrong places. That’s why I loved her. That’s why I couldn’t kill her like the others. Even after life went to shit, she had this belief that everything would turn out alright.

When she turned I couldn’t bring myself to put a bullet in her skull. I just couldn’t. I told myself she’d find something good about being a walking corpse. I wasn’t going to take away her happiness. Jed, though, had no problem putting her down right in front of me, so I shot him dead before she even hit the ground.

—

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

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The Private Jet

PHOTO PROMPT © Melanie Greenwood

“Something’s wrong here,” Carter said, creeping toward the plane.

“What do you mean?” Kevin replied, and ducked behind the wheel.

“Where is everybody? We should have been spotted by now.”

Kevin gripped his baseball bat tighter and approached the plane’s door. “You’d rather we get caught?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Carter answered as he reached for the handle. “It just feels too easy.”

“Maybe things are finally starting to go our way.” Kevin nodded and Carter pulled on the door.

The stench of rot wafted through the crack and something bumped against the inside of the door.

“Maybe not.”

—

This one took me a couple tries to get to a point where I was happy with it. Still not sure it’s perfect, but it’s good enough for the time being.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.

Click here to read stories from the other Fictioneers.