Rochelle Wisoff Fields

Higher Ground

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 33 Comments

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Words: 97

Matilda took the pills and sat her cup aside. She gripped the sink’s edge to steady the relentless tremors.

Gazing out the window, she watched the ripples turn to rapids. Unprecedented flooding, forecasters warned, move to higher ground.

She’d lived by that river her entire married life made memories here.

Matilda, her gait unsteady, ambled to Fred’s recliner and dropped exhausted into the chair. Warning banners ran across the silent TV screen.

She closed her eyes against the sound of rushing water and pressed Fred’s picture to her chest. Hold on honey; I’m moving to higher ground.

 

I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story and look for me on Facebook at SheilaMGood,  Pinterest,  Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilagood, and Contently.

The Gift of Another Day

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 26 Comments

Millie stood at the window and stared into the early morning mist. This was her favorite time of the day when the quiet awakening of the world enveloped her like a soft blanket of hope.

She smiled as the sun began its rise over the distant hills. As if from the hand of God, prism like tentacles of light stretched through her window and brushed her cheek.

Renewed in spirit and strength, she ran a hand over her bald head, felt the first hint of new growth, and said a prayer of thanks for another day.

Silence Written in Red

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 36 Comments
CE Ayr FF Photo Promt

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.

~~~~~

Want to participate in Friday Fictioneers?  Write a 100-word story, Link your story URL, include  Inlinkz and photo prompt on your page and as always, participate in comments to encourage contributors.

I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story. And as always, you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood, Pinterest, Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilagood, and Contently.

 

 

Connections

/ 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

I’d love to hear your comments. Let’s have a conversation. Talk to me. Tell me your story. And as always, you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood, Pinterest, Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilagood, and Contently.