Friday Fictioneers – Only a cold

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!


Only a cold

It was one of those late fall days, when clouds smear the sun like ice-cream and a chill wind rattles the last leaves.

Pastor Nicholas was coughing in the hallway

“It’s only a cold,” he said, irritably, to his wife, Maisie, and he slammed the door as he set off to visit his parishioners.

Maisie had made him a packed lunch, but he left it unopened. Despite his exhaustion he could feel God working through him, healing broken lives.

That night, Maisie had to call an ambulance. “Pneumonia, exacerbated by overwork,” said the hospital. Maisie was devastated when Nicholas died.

Inlinkz – click here to join the fun!

What Pegman Saw – Saints and Martyrs

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code.

WPS - Saints and Martyrs 190622 

Santa Ana, El Salvador | Lopez Lopez, Google Maps

Saints and Martyrs

I pulled out my transistor radio ready for Archbishop Romero’s weekly sermon. My fiancée, Carlotta, wound her fingers through mine, her apprehension palpable. Would there be news of her brother? Would he be one of those on the grim lists of victims of torture and murder that the Archbishop read out?

I could hear other radios down the street – everybody listened, despite the ban, because this was how we, the poor and defenceless, found out what was happening.

Carlotta’s brother wasn’t mentioned.

A month later, the Archbishop was dead. A man burst into the hospice chapel where he was celebrating mass, and shot him twice. They say he forgave his killer with his dying breath. He’s a saint now.

And Carlotta? She and I joined the throng for the Archbishop’s funeral. As we drew near to the cathedral, the security forces fired on the crowd. My beloved, my dearest – dead…

Join the Party!