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).
My first reaction this week when I saw Al’s cool photo was to eat a second breakfast.
Ah, I do occasionally miss a Scotch Pie, one of the leading causes of heart failure in my homeland.
I then decided I would try really hard to write a story with a less tenuous link than my norm.
I think you will probably find that I had limited success with this.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.
Copyright Al Forbes
Mama Says
Hello, Debs, hurry up, sweetie, dinner’s ready.
Dad, are you there?
You boys, did you wash your hands?
Ah, you’re there, Debbie, how was school today?
Ron, Don, stop that!
Dad, can’t you tell them?
It’s been quite a day here, one thing after another.
Old Mrs Mac got taken to hospital again.
Oh, do you not know anything, her at number twenty one.
We have been here seventeen years now, since Debs was just weeks old, and you still don’t know anyone.
Yes, her with the cats.
Then Mrs Cairney went to the shops and got her purse stolen.
Right out of her shopping bag at the checkout, she thinks.
And that boy from the other side, you know, the slummy bit…
The one you used to know, Debs, but your Dad didn’t like him so you stopped seeing him.
Aye, Springer, that’s him.
Boys, I won’t tell you again!
Well he was on his motorbike of course, up that back road up the mountains.
Calm down, honey, I’m trying to tell you what happened.
More potatoes, Dad?
Well, some idiot was coming the other way, overtaking where he couldn’t see, and that poor boy…
What, Debs?
Well he was forced right off the road, wasn’t he?
Are you okay, baby?
No, he went right off the side at that bit near the viaduct.
Debs?
Debs!
Now where has she gone?
What is it with that girl?
Sound Bite Fiction 
So typical of a normal family dinner. Poor Debs. Looks like she was still stuck on the guy after all. The other thought which came to me – until I re-read the story and realized she had been there – was she had also been in the accident and in the confusion, they hadn’t realized she wasn’t there.
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The monologue feels very authentic. Nicely written. I wonder if Deb’s parents would let her date him now as it looks like their attitude toward him changed slightly because of the accident (prior to that it must have been fairly negative in order for them to prevent their daughter from seeing him). If he’s still alive, that is.
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Thank you, Kaito, glad you enjoyed.
Alas, I fear that Springer went off the road never to return.
I was in Vancouver BC just last year – beautiful city – so a couple of the photos on your Twitter page struck a chord with me.
Good to see you here.
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What were you doing at my house? That is the everyday cacophony when we all get together! Poor Debs, though…
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And you will be Mama doing the talking, nae doot, hen.
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Nae doot ‘t all
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As usual very well written. Such a difficult conversation, and not noticing the effect it was having. I can almost see her face changing to one of horror as he is telling it.
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Mama just rolls out the news, Al, and as you say doesn’t notice the effect on Debs until too late.
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A gossip machine with a motormouth.
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Poor Deb. Fancy hearing about her ex-boyfriend’s accident like that. Obviously not as ex as she and “Mum” thought. It always amuses me to hear wives talking about their husbands as “Dad” even when she’s talking to him. Very different take on the prompt…very good too.
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Maybe not at all ex, Lyn, Debs isn’t the first girl to see a boy behind Dad’s back.
I have to say that calling husband ‘Dad’ is not something I like, but it is common practice in some areas.
Glad you enjoyed.
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Difficult conversation. So sing important to say but too much else going on. Nice write.
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Thank you, Mandibelle, seems Debs got the gist of it, anyway.
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I have been part of many a conversation like that 🙂 very well done!
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Thanks, Angie, when Mama talks, everyone listens.
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Aha, I’ve assisted at many a conversation at the table like that.
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Thank you, sir, but as Graham wasn’t there, it was just a monologue.
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Lol
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Fantastic – I felt like a fly on the wall (I assume flies have ears!)
Join the Pie Party!
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Nah, but they have zillions of eyes, they are really fast lip readers.
Don’t mention your pies, they will be all over your place in the twinkling of, well, an eye, I suppose.
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Dear CE,
I agree with Emmy.
I love the structure. I never got lost in the conversation. It felt like a big family at the dinner table and told a story. One of your best. ❤
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you, m’lady, that is exactly what it was.
See my response to Emmy’s first comment below.
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Can imagine this sort of mother’s monologue is repeated at many houses up and down the country.Sounds like she could do with some help, or even a holiday – perhaps even just someone to actually listen to her.
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Oh, I think Debs heard her loud and clear!
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Super tale.
It’s a script.
A song maybe.
The kind Bobbie Gentry could write.
And the tone of the POV is just right.
Not bad at all.
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I heard you the first time.
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Super tale.
It’s a script.
A song maybe.
The kind Bobbie Gentry could write.
And the tone of the POV is just right.
Not bad at all.
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I almost appended this to the story:
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