Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
This week’s curious photo comes courtesy of Sarah Ann Hall, and I ponder life, death and rock ‘n’ roll.
The idea, as always, is to write a story of around 100 words based on this picture, below.
Click here to hear the author read this one-minute tale:
Dust to Dust
It’s my own fault, I know.
I have never been able to cut down, far less give up, smoking.
It is a vile, poisonous, malodorous weakness.
I cough constantly.
I won’t mention what I emit.
Everything stinks of stale tobacco: my home, my clothes, my hair.
And it costs a fortune I don’t have.
But this is the last straw.
Your dying wish was very specific.
You believe if it is unfulfilled, you cannot move to the next level.
But, sweetheart, I can’t remember which urn contains your remains.
And I can hardly empty twenty ash-trays into the town fountain.