Final Moment – #WritePhoto

#WritePhoto – March 29, 2018 – “Valley”

writephoto valley

Final Moment

The last thing I saw was the sea swallowing the sun along the horizon. Through my swollen eyes, I could make out the soft pink and orange that swirled together to become one. It was magnificent. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said it was magical. In those final moments, I wasn’t at all concerned with the rest of the world. Fully aware these moments would be my last, I cherished them for all they were worth, and kept my eyes on that glorious sunset.

I was lying on my side, face pressed down into the mud. The previous day’s rainstorm left the ground soft and slimy, and I could feel the wetness trying to push itself inside my ear. My hands were tied behind my back with tight, thick rope, and the duct tape secured around my mouth had forced itself up against my nostrils, almost suffocating me. At that point, it didn’t matter either way. I was helpless.

My case made national headlines. TV and newspapers had described me as a monster for the acts I’d committed. And it was true. Those kids didn’t deserve what I’d done to them, but I deserved every bit of what had happened to me at that point. And everything that was to come. I couldn’t feel sorry for myself. A mental health defense got me off scot-free, but that only made a difference in the eyes of the court.

As I laid covered in grit and grime, I heard harsh, raspy voices behind me. They spoke quietly, in an attempt to hide their identities, but it was useless. Those voices belonged to the fathers of the young girls I’d murdered. I had heard them speak in the courtroom many times. Anger, pain, heartache, devastation. It was something I’d never forget.

After overhearing their whispered conversation, I knew what was in store for me. The sharp sound of metal scraping metal filled the air and all I could do was wait. And while I waited, I prayed. My bold prayers were muffled beneath the tight gray duct tape, but the men heard my attempts.

“Prayers won’t save you. Just like they didn’t save my daughter.” I couldn’t see the man’s face, but I could sense irony, and something like redemption, in his tone.

Yes, the girls had prayed and begged for their lives. The only difference between us was that I knew my life couldn’t be saved, but I still had hope for my soul. I asked for forgiveness, wishing I could take back what I’d done, and kept my eyes on the beauty of the horizon.

I was still gazing at those pink and orange swirls as a pick axe smashed into the back of my skull, shattering bone with an ungodly crunch.

And everything went black.

©FrankieFiction 2018


This was my little piece for this week’s #WritePhoto prompt, hosted by Sue @ Daily Echo. I hope you enjoy! Same as last week, I chose to write a piece inspired by the photo provided. It’s a bit dark, but if you can’t tell yet, I love writing dark fiction. If you’re interested in participating, you really should. It’s a lot of fun! (Any and all feedback on my writing is welcome and appreciated!)

 

Until next time…

                                ❤ FRANKIE

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Mother Nature – #WritePhoto

While browsing in search of some creative writing prompts, I happened upon #WritePhoto hosted by Sue Vincent @ Daily Echo. Every Thursday she posts one of her photos to use as a prompt/inspiration for your writing that week. Your piece can be inspired by the photo provided, or you can use your own photo, if you’d like. I thought this was a really fun idea and I couldn’t wait to participate.

For my first week participating, I decided to use the photo provided for this week, which you can find below, with my short story to go along with it. I hope you all enjoy this short piece! Any and all feedback welcome! (Warning: slightly graphic content.)


#WritePhoto – March 22, 2018 – “Carved”

writephoto 3.22.18
Photo from Sue Vincent – scvincent.com

Mother Nature

Under the pink skies of dusk, Lonnie sags against the carved well, one of Mother Nature’s most unique and inspiring creations. After the long haul to the sacred spot, her lungs were burning, legs weak. Today’s trek wasn’t as easy as usual. This particular load was large, hefty dead-weight. Not the typical for Lonnie, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices.

Taking a moment not only to rest, but to collect her thoughts, her mind takes her back to the first time she discovered the well. Always a lover of the outdoors, Lonnie had developed a cherished bond with Mother Nature. Beautiful creations like this were made specially for her, as a thank you for all the good she’s done, all the people and families she’s helped.

Snapping back to reality and the task at hand, she reaches for the bundle of plastic and cloth and begins to pull. She tries to be as graceful as she can. After all, a mess to clean up is the last thing she wants. A smile washes over Lonnie’s face at the familiar rustle of grass and sand beneath the dragging load, assuring her one final time that she’s a good person. Most would even consider her a savior, wouldn’t they?

She makes it back to the monument, struggling at her attempt to lift the load. If only she can place it vertically against the stone, her job will be as good as done. Hair falling in her face, fingers and arms sore, Lonnie is finally able to get it. This is it. She’s ready.

When she snatches the frayed cloth from the top of the now vertical bundle, she sees a bloody face, eyes carved out of their sockets, staring back at her. No longer bothered by the grim looks of the dead, she begins her usual “good deed” seance…

“This… is for choosing to be blind. This… is for blatantly refusing to see the beauty in life. This… is for the existence of humanity. This… is for Mother Nature.”

The body is pushed over, down into the depths of the carved well… along with all the rest.

©FrankieFiction 2018