Small Mercies

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

I squint my eyes, but the image is no clearer.  Cursing, I struggle to read the label, but there is nobody to help.  I hurl the bottle, frustrated, then admonish myself for the mess I will have to try to clear up.

“Count yourself lucky,” they said and I suppose I am.  Nevertheless, the inability to see clearly, bothers me more than I can describe.

All because a selfish bastard drank alcohol and chose to drive home.

As well as my sight, the accident deprived me of my confidence and independence.

It dispossessed me of my husband too.

Every cloud…

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Loneliest Time of the Year

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

As I pass balloons decorating lampposts and gaudy neon lights, my heart feels that little bit heavier.  I see the rowdy party-goers dancing with arms flailing and drunken grins spread across their faces.

Are they as happy as they seem?  Perhaps they’re trying just that little bit too hard.

Am I the only one who dreads this time of year?

I’ve no money to buy the children a decent gift or provide a traditional Christmas meal.

I can pay the bills… just, but we will have to keep the heating low.

I’ve no energy to appear jolly.

Damn you, Peter.

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Better or Worse

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

She stomped her feet on the mat dislodging most of the compacted snow.  Boots pulled off, she hung her wet coat on the hook and made for the kitchen.

The cold had made her nose stream.  She grabbed a piece of paper towel, flicked the switch on the kettle and slumped into the tattered armchair by the window.

There was still no news.

Each night she went to bed despairing.

Each morning she woke with renewed hope.

Would it always be this way?

Would knowing be better or worse?

He had only been two years old when he went missing.

 

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

His Story

I hope nobody minds, but I have done two this week.  Initially, I couldn’t get the story right.  I wrote, deleted and re-wrote countless times.  Then, very late at night it took shape, but I wanted to tell the story from two points of view.  If you have the time to read both, I hope you will see why I wanted to post the two sides.

PHOTO PROMPT © Lucy Fridkin

The sun crept across the clouds like molten lava lighting up the grey sky augmenting its tempestuous appearance.

It matched Peter’s mood as he reflected on the afternoon’s events.  His face distorted with fear.  He’d known the risks, but arrogantly thought they didn’t apply to him.  He’d always gambled and the gamble had always paid off… always; until today.

How could he face his wife, his father or his colleagues?

Stupid, senseless, fool!

His shoulders sagged dejectedly as he looked at the calm water below.  It provided the solution to his turmoil.  With newly-found serenity, he stepped off the ledge.

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Her Story

PHOTO PROMPT © Lucy Fridkin

How could he leave me?  How could he do it now?

Did he really think the money and lifestyle were so important?

I loved him when we were penniless, living in a tiny bedsit and I love him still.

Did the money mean more to him than our relationship?  Did he truly believe I would blame him, resent him or even leave him?

Stupid, senseless, fool!

If only he had come home that night.

If only I had the chance to tell him.

It would have made a difference, I’m sure…

If he’d known about the baby growing inside me.

 

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.