Friday again, and that means Friday Fictioneers–a great reason to look forward to the weekend.
This week’s story is more personal than my usual fare, but the picture connected precisely with an event in my life that happened thirty years ago. Here’s the photo:
And here’s the story, which, technically, is fiction:
The Last Place Father Was Alive
The Irish in her made her walk the land one last time before it sold.
Liam was at her side, where he always was, camera in hand so she would have memories.
She stopped when she rounded the bend and saw it. Liam jogged ahead, camera up and snapping. He shifted to shoot from different angles.
She thought that damned truck had gone to the junk yard. If she’d known they’d just hauled it down here where she would find it…
“Take a look at this,” Liam called to her.
The shake of her head was slight, and he knew.
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A little cryptic, I know. If you’re curious, contact me by e-mail, and I’ll explain.
In the meantime, check out more Friday Fictioneers at Madison Woods’ blog.
unexpectedpaths.com 