Friday Fictioneers – The Music of Time

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

FF - The music of time

PHOTO PROMPT © TED STRUTZ

The Music of Time

Strangers walking past the house sometimes pause and listen. Sometimes they smile; sometimes they weep.

If you ask them why, they say, “Why, it’s the music, of course!”

I heard it myself once. It was soft and gentle; tranquil; joyful; resigned; a piano played with no virtuosity but great art.

I walked around the house, all the way around. The windows were shuttered. There were no lights despite the dull, grey evening.

The garden was untended, lawns merging with flower beds and ivy strangling the trees.

By the front gate, a shabby sign creaked.

“For Sale”, it said.

Inlinkz – Click here to join the fun!

What Pegman Saw – Payback time

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s prompt is New Orleans, Louisiana.

WPS - Payback time 181020

Lafayette Cemetery, New Orleans, Louisiana | Save Our Cemeteris Jean Mensa Google Maps

Payback time

She was skinny, dirty, and bruised and obstructed his passage through the cemetery. Clark tried to walk past her but, without seeming to move, she still blocked his path. Clark swiped, casually, to knock her out of the way but his blow hit nothing.

He looked more closely; she seemed familiar.

“I was the first,” she murmured, so quietly that he could scarcely hear.

Another girl, perhaps fourteen years old, stepped out bringing the stench of decay. Clark gasped. He’d left this one in a garbage dumpster.

“You sold my body for sex and then you murdered me.” She whispered the words.

Fire crackled ahead of him, fierce and orange.

He bolted from it, but the flames were faster. All around him children stared, accusing; judging.

When his screams eventually stopped, his corpse lay between the tombs, contorted but unburned. The children sighed in unison – and gently turned to mist.