Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge now presented by Susan Spaulding, who has taken over this great weekly prompt from my old friend Al Forbes.
And this week’s fabulous photo is by me!
Shucks, I feel quite important now.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in the picture (below).
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.
Click here to hear the author read the tale:
I hear them shrieking in the night.
The screams are loud, piercing, terrifying.
My blood runs cold every time.
I knew him quite well.
We weren’t friends, but he was also a regular visitor to the little café on the port.
We would watch the rugby, chat about the usual stuff, weather, politics, tourists.
He was a quiet, inoffensive little man.
Or so we all thought.
It was a shock when he slaughtered his wife and children.
Apparently inside the house was horrific, blood everywhere.
He strolled into the Gendarmerie, told the cops exactly what happened.
He was chopping wood when he got annoyed with his wife’s nagging.
He followed her into the kitchen, almost decapitated her.
When the children started screaming he chased them down, one after another, and butchered them.
Two little girls and a boy, barely a toddler.
He left the chopper on the kitchen table, washed his hands, and went to the police.
Now the house is being demolished.
Well, no one would buy it, would they?
Everyone knows it is haunted.
So I have a question.
Where do restless, wretched spirits go when their home is obliterated?
You see, I live next door.