Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by Susan Spaulding, who has taken over this great weekly prompt from my old friend Al Forbes.
This week, once again, she has selected one of my photos as the prompt.
It shows a stretch of the Avenue Pierre et Marie Curie which ends at la petite calanque, the little cove.
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:
Kids on Bikes
Look, says my wife, shaking the newspaper at me, another child has been killed.
What? How?
Hit by a car when out on her bike, she tells me.
I stare at her in horror.
How many is that now, I ask.
That’s the third one since…
Her voice trails off, and she chokes back a sob.
It is just over a year since the accident.
Our son, our beautiful boy, was hit by a car on his way home from school.
On his bike.
He was seven years old.
All the protective equipment was useless.
He flew through the air and broke his neck.
This is a quiet little town in a quiet area.
There is hardly any traffic here.
And yet all these children are dying.
I sense my wife is watching me.
Her eyes are red with tears.
But there is something else there too.
I feel a chill seeping through my very existence.
It isn’t fair, she says, why should they be happy?
Beautifully written. And i agree, the last three lines are magnificent, Ceayr.
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Thank you, Neel, you know I like to leave you with a low blow!
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Are some of the readers missing something here, a couple of us seem to have picked up on the dark revelation hinted at in the last lines… Also, as a relatively new cyclist – car drivers have no patience or understanding or sympathy for cyclists at all!
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I can’t speak for the others, Iain, but there is indeed a dire dark revelation at the end.
As a long term car driver I have no patience or understanding or sympathy for cyclists at all!
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That’s why I stick to cycle paths and pavements!
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I think I got it but I’ve been wrong before. Here in the States we have some places that are very cyclist friendly, then others where you take your life into your own hands. It’s a dangerous business to be sure.
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Moving story, and very realistic!
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Thank you, Reena
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The last three lines — solid gold. They make the whole poem for me. Make it excellent.
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Thank you, Paul, I like to wrap things up with an impact.
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We all do, but you pulled it off so well. It’s quite jarring, the juxtaposition of something like the death of children — which should bring out the best in us, in a way — and such a horrible sentiment, in effect wishing more children were killed. I wasn’t prepared for it.
But maybe just as important, it fit with a sobering subject. It didn’t seem out of place even as it jarred.
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She isn’t just wishing, Paul…
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Beautiful!
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Thank you, Rosemary
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La souffrance de la perte d’un être cher peux amener à commettre des actes inconcevables, comme écraser des enfants !
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Exactement, Corine.
Merci pour ta visite.
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Reality hits home. Hardened hearts are difficult to extract from heavy pain.
In our area traffic lights have been erected not when needed, but only after the three fatality rule.
I try very hard to read some good news everyday.
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That sounds like local councils at their most stupid, Jules.
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Such a subtle dreadful and horrifying ending to this story…
Or is it just me?
As always, you lead this reader down a path that leads to other directions.
Well done, sir.
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Not just you, Em, this is a pretty ghastly tale.
Happy to have misled you yet again!
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The darkness behind this tale is terrifying. You capture it well.
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Thank you, Susan, darkness and terrifying works for me!
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Heart wrenching. Beautifully written.
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Thank you, Sailaja, glad it reached you
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