Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by my old friend Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture (below).
Leaves remind me of trees, and trees make me think of Aix, maybe my favourite town in the world.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.
Aix is an ancient and wonderful town.
It is less than two hours from Medville, in the heart of Cezanne country.
The Cours Mirabeau is probably my favourite street in the world.
The road is wide, with water cascading from great moss-covered rocks as though in a novel by Steinbeck, and with the magnificent La Rotonde fountain at its western end.
The sidewalks too are broad, and lined with glorious plane trees losing their autumn leaves.
The buildings, many constructed as 17th century town houses, are now hotels, restaurants and grand cafes.
I venture upstairs in one such to answer nature’s call.
The ceilings are twenty feet high, the walls adorned with 200 year old oil portraits.
I become distracted, quickly lose my bearings.
Seeing a somewhat ramshackle door behind piled chairs and tables, I slip through.
Two rough-looking individuals in Phrygian caps seize me, drag me to a window and toss me onto a waiting tumbrel.
The cheers from the toothless crones, les Tricoteuses, are terrifyingly enthusiastic as I am hustled towards the guillotine.