Tag: #photoprompt

Posted in Crime, Flash Fiction

A Calming Influence – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

Little Michael and his parents traveled to the beach a few hundred miles away from their home town. Carol and John Henderson, Michael’s parents, were trying to find something to help little Michael. The nine year old boy had been through a traumatic time at his school. After the trauma, he had refused to ever go back to that school building. He was also afraid of leaving his house and of just about anything new. When someone came to the door of his house, he hid under his bed. Most of the time, he preferred to play in his room with his Legos.

Carol and John were at the end of their rope. They had tried everything and they couldn’t seem to help their precious son. They were so thankful that he wasn’t one of the victims at his school that they just wanted to keep him home and safe. They knew that the school shooting would scar him for life. They also knew that they needed to take some positive action to try to help Michael, so they planned a beach trip thinking that a change of scenery might help the little boy.

The Henderson’s were staying right on the beach. When they got to their hotel, they took Michael outside to play on the beach and see the ocean. The beach was crowded. Carol took Michael’s hand and led him to the edge of the water, hoping he would enjoy the ocean. She noticed that his eyes kept darting around the crowd at the beach and he refused to even get his feet wet. He just wanted to go back inside their hotel room. They walked right by a big bucket and spade that had been placed there for the kids to enjoy. Michael ignored it. He almost ran back to their hotel room.

Carol and John waited until the next day to try to lure Michael to the beach. They had conversations with him about his fears. No words seemed to help. Carol insisted that Michael try to beach again, so they once again took Michael outside. When they got outside, Carol noticed a small boy, Michael’s age, working on the beginning of a sand castle using the bucket and spade. Michael noticed him too and Carol saw his eyes light up. As they walked by the boy building the sandcastle, he stopped them to say hello. Michael walked over to him and watched him build the sand castle.

Finally, the boy asked Michael if he could play and would he like to help build the sandcastle. Michael jumped at the chance and the two children played all afternoon. After he came back to the hotel room, he was very quiet.

Later that evening, Michael said to Carol, ”Mom, my new friend had the same experience I did.” Carol asked what he meant. Michael went ahead to say, ”His school got shot up too, but it was a year ago. He felt like I feel. However, he has now gone back to school and wants to get to play again. I want to be like him.”

Carol had to turn away because of the tears in her eyes. For the first time, she had hope for Michael. As their week at the beach progressed, Michael, and his new friend, Gregory, played every day. One day when Carol was at the beach with Michael, she actually heard him laugh with Gregory. She also saw him and his friend stick their toes into the ocean. She felt like Michael was on the road to recovery.

After the family returned to their hometown, Carol and John put Michael into counseling. It was slow going with the little boy, but months later, he went back to school, but to another elementary school.

Michael’s scars will be permanent, As he grow up, he’ll realize that he was much luckier than some of the children that day. He came away with his life, but it will be different now. Michael told Carol that he wants to help other kids like Gregory helped him.

Posted in Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers

Absconded

Posted on by R.M. Carlson
Photo prompt by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

See that picture on the wall of the girl with the flaming hair? She’s my sister. She was my roommate, but now she’s gone. She left without warning me that she was going to bolt.

Look at the mess she’s left in my apartment. It’s appalling that she left me with this mess without telling me. How could she do this to me? How could she just abandon me? One day she just didn’t come home. I waited, but all I got was that terrible phone call. I can visit her, but I don’t like to go to the cemetery.

For Friday Fictioneers, May 22, 2022

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Tokens – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

Walking through the woods on the day of the autumn equinox, she found them. Tokens lying at the foot of a tree. Arranged in a precise manner. A fall leaf signifying the season. The season when the harvest is over and it’s time to rest and renew. There was a grey feather. A sign that balance will be achieved in the universe. A sign of the season of neutrality and hope. Last, she saw the two red tokens. Red for boldness, passion, and creativity. She sat at the foot of the tree and let the magic of the tokens overtake her.

 

Thanks to Sue Vincent #writephoto

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Old Home Place

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

I look in the old hand-held mirror that I’ve stuck up on the wall. I glance quickly behind me, wondering if my mother is behind me and it’s her image that I see.

I come to the old homeplace sometimes. I can feel the ghosts here so no wonder I think my mother has crept up on me. I sneak in the back door so no one will see me.

My childhood is here. I can hear it. My parents are talking softly in the kitchen. I sit down in the old rocking chair and wish for days gone by.

Photo credit @TedStultz

Posted in Flash Fiction

Clouded Vision – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

6AE01D85-8270-451D-B14A-F876BAC513CD

The cottage was in the small village that was surrounded by moorland. The scenery was beautiful outside. Green, peaceful, pleasant. The village was sleepy, but friendly. When they arrived here, they remembered how the times with her parents at the cottage were filled with love and care. They were gone now, but they had given she and her husband the lovely gift of the cottage. They used it as a get-away from high-pressure life they lived in the city. Now, the pandemic had driven them out of the city and they took refuge in the cottage in the countryside.

It was a very small place, perfect for two people, though when they came here with her parents, they squeezed in four. It had only four rooms downstairs. In the front, there was a large living area with cushy furniture and colors that reminded her of her childhood. Lots of pinks, greens, and blues. Some of her artwork from childhood was hanging on the walls along with lovely photos of this part of the country and pictures of family members who were all gone now. A big fireplace and hearth were at the side of the room with floor pillows all around. They enjoyed this room.

At the side of the living room and across from the fireplace stood a ladder leaning up to allow access to the open loft. The loft was where she and her husband slept. The ceiling was high because of the V-shaped pitched roof of the cottage. The bedding was a calm beige with a big comforter covering the bed. There were a few other pieces of furniture. Old tables used as nightstands. A trunk at the end of the bed where they could sit. It held treasures from the past. She made sure this was an inviting place. One with soft surfaces and warm throws everywhere. Soft blue filled the room.

Behind the living area was the big kitchen and workroom. An Aga stove dominated the kitchen and everyone seemed to gather here. In front ot the stove stood a long country dining table, also used for cooking preparation. Comfortable chairs with cushions were around three sides of the table. Friends came here to sit and drink endless cups of tea with them.

The small, but cozy, bedroom was at the side of the house. It contained everything a guest would need. The bathroom was by the bedroom and in it was a claw foot tub. The bathroom had been updated to allow for a shower. Her pots and creams and sticks full of color made the room smell like heaven. Potions and lotions were all around the big tub.

Because of the pandemic, he had been laid off his job, but she was still working remotely.  Coming to the cottage and the green of the moorland relaxed both of them and allowed them to think about something other than sickness and death. They planted a small kitchen garden behind the cottage. Her mother’s flower garden was also there, bursting with color and the promise of new beginnings.

She would sit with her small dog on the back porch while he puttered in the gardens. Her head were filled with love and a glimmer of hope for the future. She watched the cloud bank roll across the moorland and thought of how clouded her own vision had been in the past. There was a time she saw only despair, but that time was gone. Her vision had cleared and, finally, she realized how lucky she was to have him.

Posted in Fiction

Copper – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

You could hardly see her as she walked down the old country lane. The trees were ablaze with fall color and her coppery-colored hair was indistinguishable from the leaves swaying from the bowing branches. She was home to see her parents for the first time since she had married. They were not pleased and she hoped to placate them.

It was the fall of 1943 and her new husband had gone off to war after only two weeks of married life. She knew that he hadn’t wanted to marry before going off to war. She wouldn’t know until many years later why he finally decided they should marry. She thought he had a guilty conscience. She really hadn’t meant to get pregnant. They met in the USO Club in the small town where she lived with her sister and attended college. Her sister and her husband had introduced her to him.

He was just so exotic. Growing up deep in the heart of Appalachia, she’d never met anyone like him. She’d fallen in love. He’d come to the small college town to train naval men before they went off to war. He was from another place, another culture. He had such a voice! They hadn’t meant to become so intimate so fast. Then there was a baby that would come of their union. She did love him so, but did he love her? She had no way to know. She was determined to make that happen.

Now she had to concentrate on her mother and father. They had married in the spring, but she had attended summer school. This was the first time she’d been home since her marriage. Almost at the end of the lane that led to The Big House, where she’d grown up and where her parents still lived, she slowed her pace and took a deep breath. She sat her small cloth suitcase down and breathed in the crisp fall air. She looked around her. It was beautiful in eastern Kentucky at this time of year. Now it was time to face the music. She could hardly stand to disappoint them, especially her Daddy.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction

Timeless – #writephoto

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She often came this way. She stopped and sat on the fence, looking at the single, timeless standing stone. It always caused her carefully controlled mind to wander. Back and forward. Backwards, she wondered where they came from. What they meant? Were other stones buried by the sands of time somewhere deep around this one, perhaps in a circle? Maybe this was a lone stone. Perhaps meant to cure sick children? How will we ever know, she wondered, what the prehistoric people who raised these stones really were doing.

Then there was that other theory. The one that some thought explained the pyramids as well as the standing stones. The theory that said that we weren’t alone in the universe. Perhaps other beings had helped those prehistoric people build these complex stone structures. Most discounted that theory of course, but she found herself thinking of it. It seemed so impossible that the prehistoric citizens could have done it themselves.

A timeless mystery of the universe. She started walking again, her imagination making her smile.

Posted in Fiction

Renewal – #writephoto

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Jane remembers the night they got to that island. They were just looking for a place to stay and they happened upon the bridge where signs told them of vacancies. They crossed the bridge, not really knowing where they were. Not really knowing they were going out into the Gulf of Mexico.

It was winter and even in the southern part of America, dark came early. Even so, someone was in the office of the first place they came to. After they secured a reservation, they went to their spot and crashed. Never really thinking about where they were. They had driven a long way. They knew it was warm and they could smell salt water. Sleep came instantly.

It had been a hard year for them before that winter. They were young. They didn’t know that the things that had happened, decisions they had made, would come back to haunt them many years later. They had the freedom of youth without the wisdom of age. Like most young people of ther generation, they worked hard and played just as hard. Too hard. It was the 1970s and their kind of fun seemed innocent then. They didn’t realize that it wasn’t. That the transgressions of youth would color their whole lives. They didn’t know that too much fun then would make the responsibilities of age hard and getting old so much more unbearable.

When Jane’s eyes came open, just a crack, the next morning, she looked around and saw the entire place enveloped in a warm glow. Bare tree branches were on one side of the place with palm trees towering over the other side. They had been lost the night before. She couldn’t imagine where they were.

Jane got up and dressed and walked out on the porch and down the road. The sky astonished her, layered in gold clouds. She had never seen anything like it. As she walked and nodded to the locals, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders, a sense of renewal wash over her. A decision she had been trying to make became clear to her as the tropical birds swooped in front of her. When she came to a general store, she found out the name of the island although in her mind, she’d already dubbed it her magical island. She’d been struggling with that decision for weeks.

After that winter, Jane knew they would spend many winters on that magical island. Looking back, she knows they will go back someday. It might be they should do it soon. Could it renew her once again?

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized

Clouds – #writephoto

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She doesn’t walk much anymore, but today, her dog needed to walk so off they went. He’s excited to be out and she hopes the walk will be good for her too. It’s hard for her to get outside her own head, but she looks around at the scenery and notices the beautiful, but darkening clouds ahead of her. She doesn’t think they look threatening, so she and her dog walk on. She tries to be in the moment mentally and he helps with that, smelling every smell along the way. It helps her to focus. As always, she’s thinking about many things while trying just to think about him and his joyous communion with nature.

The clouds are so beautiful that they cause an old song to pop into her head. She smiles as she remember Joni Mitchell’s original recording of “Both Sides Now.” The ultimate “cloud” song as far as she is concerned. She remembers lying in her parent’s backyard in the grass, looking up at the clouds as a teenager. She remembers the line “ice cream castles in the air.” As a young girl, she looked at the cloud formations and dreamed of such innocent and foolish things..

She and her dog stopped to rest. She gave him a drink out of his water bottle and he laid down to rest for a few minutes, looking around, drinking in the scenery. She watched the clouds as they moved overhead. As an older teenager, reaching adulthood, she still watched the clouds in the backyard, but the images became different. She remembers the words to the song. One stanza described her feelings at that time in her life, when she met a boy she thought she would marry.

“Moons and Junes and ferries wheels 
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real 
I’ve looked at love that way”

She had fallen in love and she thought he was in love. Something terrible happened. He was not the boy, she had found out very painfully, that she would marry. She reached down and touched her dog’s head. He was her touchstone now if her thoughts drifted to a bad place.

They got up and walked on. The dog was anxious to see what was over the next rise on their walk.

2018 had turned into a year of reflection for her. She hated that and thought it was brought on by her health issues which seem to have blown up this past year. She had spent the year frightened and it had made her look back at her life. She liked to look forward, but she was facing serious life-threatening issues. Looking forward had become difficult.

She had looked at the relationships in her life. Not just romantic relationships, but all of them. Family, friends. She saw the folly in so many of them. She and her husband seemed to finally be at peace. She had amazing friends. Something wonderful had happened with her family. She had found family members she hardly knew existed and some she had not known existed and she was getting to know them. That had made her year. There were other family relationships that were gone. Gone forever. That had hurt her terribly.

Love. Romance. Did it even exist or like in the song, was it just another illusion? She had come to the conclusion that love was very rare, that it seldom existed if at all. As for the rest of her life, however long that was, she found the song to be very relevant:

“But now it’s just another show 
You leave ’em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know 
Don’t give yourself away 

I’ve looked at love from both sides now 
From give and take and still somehow
It’s love’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know love at all…”

They walked on home, leaving the cloud formations behind, to do whatever they had to do.

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized

The Growling

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It was a beautiful day on the beach by the village. The children could run out the door of their homes and reach the sand and sea in moments. Tourists who rented homes here and there could be spotted lazing in the warm sun. The setting was an idyllic as one can imagine. 

The small boy and his dog walked along the streets of the village that day. He was doing errands for his mother. The dog, normally so well-behaved, kept running circles around him with a low growl in his throat. The boy couldn’t imagine what was wrong. 

It seemed that the growl from the dog got louder. The boy felt the earth shaking. He’d felt this before. He knew it was an earthquake. The shake was a big one, but the damage to the village didn’t look severe. The growling didn’t stop. 

Someone shouted that there was a tsunami warning. The boy climbed up onto the roof of a shed and hoisted his dog up with him. They were hit by a wall of water. When it subsided, they were mostly alone, saved by the growling. Only a few others remained.

Thanks to Susan at Sunday Photo Fiction and to Anurag Bakhshi for the photo prompt.