Rochelle has led us once more into the dark depths of our minds to entertain you! As always, check out the rest of the stories sparked by the photo here.
“Come on,” Haily urged.
Irene sighed, but followed Haily into the tunnel behind the school. “What is so important?” she demanded.
“Frankie! Oh, I hope no teachers catch wind of this.”
Irene stopped short. “You are not dragging me down here for some fight, are you?”
“No, no, come ON.” Haily grabbed Irene and pulled her down into the cool dark.
No one really knew why the tunnel had been built. Rumors flew of course: war armory, refugee hideaway. The favorite was another secret tunnel. Irene didn’t believe any of it. Until they stopped next to Frankie and the open door.
Autumn leaves crunched underfoot as Jack walked. His footsteps sounded so loud, echoing his pulse. His stomach quivered. Would she be there? He had left the note on her locker. What if it had fallen off before she got to it after class? What if she didn’t want to be with him? What if someone else saw it? What if she laughed? What if….
He came around the last tree and he could see the gazebo. His heart leapt.
My “entry” for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. I went short, only 78 words. Never had that happen before! Read all the other stories HERE. Thanks again to Priceless Joy for giving us these wonderful prompts every week.
It is Friday again! People the world over sigh with relief the work week is over……and jump for joy because we are Friday Fictioneering! Stories from all over the globe are pouring in to the inLinkz led by Rochelle. Check them out. Yes, that was an order.
Janie sat back and surveyed her garden. Tucked into a corner of the roof, she had managed a tiny jungle.
She heard him coming, the uneven steps indicating his level of drink. Janie ducked her head before turning to look. The light from the dying sun framed him, huge and leprous with a dragging foot. Large, callused hands clutched his bottle and his ugly sneer increased as he viewed her colorful sanctuary.
He came around the lattice framing, the glare of the sun leaving him. Once more he was her father, a worn man dragged down by life and drink.