Posted in Drabbles

Memories

It was in here somewhere, it had to be.

This is the box where I kept my most treasured possessions.

I pulled out a half-finished dream, that wasn’t it. Next came an argument still fermenting, then a small silver box containing the lies you told me, my broken heart wrapped up in brown paper, the remnants of our last fight, a jar of tears shed when you left me.

Then I find it, tucked away in the corner out of sight, the memory of our first kiss on that ride at the fair.

I hold it tight and cry.

MikeJackson©2018

A 100-word story for this week’s prompt at Friday Fictioneers.

Photo courtesy of J Hardy Carroll.

Advertisements
Posted in Drabbles

Loved Ones

One of the terms often used to talk of the dead is ‘loved ones’. It made me think of this 100-word story.

*********

We stood huddled in a small group and watched as the rain danced on the coffin lid.

Despite the lousy weather, we’d all come to make sure you were really dead.

Anthony, eyes lowered, was remembering the daily beatings you had given him. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders as memories of your nightly visits to my room forced their way back into my mind.

According to our old neighbour, you illness had given you a lot of pain over the last six months. Something I was heartened to hear.

We’re so glad you’re no longer with us Dad.

MikeJackson©2017

Posted in Drabbles

Going Out

frost-on-the-tombstone-liz
PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

“We going out today Mabel?”

“Don’t think so George. I’ve had a quick peek up above and there was quite a frost last night. Looks like winter is on its way. You know how the cold gets into these decaying bones of mine. So I thought we’d stay in, make the most of this warm soil left over from those hot summer days we’ve had this year. Might go out tonight.”

“That would be nice love. We could sit on the bench the kids had dedicated to us and watch the stars. Just like we did when we were alive.”

MikeJackson©2017

A 100 word story for this week’s prompt from Friday Fictioneers.

Posted in Drabbles

The Ledge

legs-1627988_640

The distance between them was now quite short. He’d got to the edge of the roof, talking quietly, moving slowly, not wanting to spook her. He was now just inches from the ledge. He reached out, pleading with her to take his hand. She looked across at the stranger, desperately trying to save her life. She wanted to tell him to be careful, to step back in case he should fall. She looked at him, such kind, caring eyes. If only she’d known him before all of this. As she stepped off the ledge she wondered what his name was.

MikeJackson©2016

Story 14 in my attempt at writing 100 Drabbles this month.
86 more to go!