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 the picture (below).
I confess that this week’s photo by Dawn Miller leaves me as confused as ever.
Some things never change.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and to see what others have written.
Click here to hear the story read by the author:
I sit in my armchair, smiling at her beautiful face.
You know, every song sings of first love, how it never dies.
They wail continually about being sweet sixteen, how their hearts are broken.
Well, get over it.
There will be others, maybe armies of them.
But, when we reach a certain age, as I have, we know that this is the last time we will feel this way.
We have learnt how to treasure these moments.
Because we know there are so few remaining to us.
So I gaze at her in adoration.
Like me, she is not young.
She is neatly dressed, a cup of tea at her elbow, her head bent over a book.
She exudes a poise, a tranquility, an understanding, that brings peace to my soul.
We met only a few years ago, and I knew at once I would spend the rest of my life with her.
Or, that she would spend hers with me.
Happily, it worked out both ways.
You see, although she wanted to leave me, she didn’t.
Because I killed her.
And had her embalmed.