Silence Written in Red

November 19, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 36 Comments

Photo Prompt (c) C.E. Ayr Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt

Sam put the car in park with an irritated thrust. “Dammit Camille.” He took the front steps two at a time, stopping abruptly. The door stood ajar. “Camille?” He said, easing it open. She obsessed over locked doors. Silence. Fear slithered down his back.

He moved through the house, calling her name, looking in closets and under beds. Panic rose in his throat like sour food as he ran down the drive. “Camille?”

Then, he saw it and dropped to his knees. Her shoe. It lay on the street drain like a discarded, terrifying clue, written in red.

~~~~~

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Connections

September 10, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 26 Comments

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

Brandon ran his hand over the notched edges running the length of the canoe. Smooth to the touch; his dad’s words came back to him, “Connection is everything.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat at the memories spent in the old barn. The way his dad’s steady hands labored in love, cutting with precision, and sanding to perfection.

They spent hours dreaming of their maiden voyage. But, God had a different voyage in mind.

He rubbed the years of dust and cobwebs away and moved the canoe to the water’s edge. As his paddle touched the water, a gentle breeze brushed his face, and he’d never felt more connected.

In response to Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt

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Jenny’s Sprint to Freedom

July 8, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 31 Comments

Photo by Stephen Baum

Photo Prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple

Jenny muttered a prayer as she ran for her life. Only her footfalls echoing against the tunnel floor interrupted the blessed silence.

Following orders and listening well proved to be her salvation yielding privileges and the secrets to the tunnel underneath the prison. By the time, they discovered her empty cell; she’d be crossing the border.

She could almost hear the guard’s denials of involvement. No one believed her claims of innocence, least of all, her two tormentors; time the assholes got a taste of their own medicine.

Jenny sprinted toward the sliver of light and to freedom.