Why?

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PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

A dust-covered beetle scuttled across the floor.  Cold air blew in from the broken window and a fallen timber creaked as it strained under the weight of the debris on top.

Outside bulldozers approached, music blaring, wheels bouncing over bumpy ground and men shouting instructions.

Mary watched, smearing a tear across her cheek.

It should have been a happy evening.  It had been… until, abruptly, it wasn’t.

She remembered her daughter’s excited face when she had given her the tickets, her anticipation at the unexpected treat, her enthusiastic chatter with her friend.

Her beautiful, innocent daughter gone forever, for what?

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Monday Morning Blues

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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“Double espresso, please,” Anna exhaled heavily.

She’d arrived at work earlier and parked her car.  As she got out, something caught her eye on the river next to the office, or more accurately, in the foliage covering the bridge.  She’d gone to investigate and called to the man climbing up the shrubbery.

“What are you doing?  Are you stuck?”  He didn’t answer.  She frowned, annoyed.

His arms hung by his side, belly exposed where his T-Shirt had ridden up.

It took a minute for her to realise he wasn’t climbing.  He wasn’t going to be doing anything anymore… ever.

Word Count: 99

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Sadist

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Broken, abused, defeated!

That’s how I felt when we split.  He wasn’t content with being unfaithful like most husbands.  That wasn’t enough; he tried to destroy me.  He almost succeeded.

We shouldn’t have married.  I never loved him and he obviously reciprocated that absence of emotion.  I’d ricocheted from a failed relationship into his merciless life. How I wish I’d listened to those who dispensed warnings.  Instead I suffered years of cruelty bestowed by him.

How different my life could have been.

Thankfully, broken things can repair and my strength has returned.  I’m contented now.

Happiness is a gratifying revenge.

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Gendarme’s Lot Is Not A Happy One

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Hugo dragged on his Gauloise.  He’d left the hotel room swiftly and was looking at the beautiful facade.

How could such a monstrous act have been committed in such a picturesque building?

Years working for the police had hardened him to acts of depravity, but what he’d witnessed sickened him.

The activities in that room had been evil; blood saturated the sheets and the girl’s hair was a dishevelled, congealed mess.

How could anyone view children as sexual beings?

He threw the dog-end into the gutter and strode back inside.

For the first time ever Hugo considered not following procedure.

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.