The Hero

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Everything was ready for the Fiesta. The town came alive with banners and colorful festoons. The people of Ronda were ready to welcome Spring.

The 500-odd inhabitants gathered around the town square. That’s when they saw the army jeep coming. It could mean only one thing. One of their sons was returning from the war. A hero. The crowd waited with bated breath to welcome whoever it was.

Uniformed men got out, and lowered the coffin to the ground reverently. Yes, a son had returned. He was a hero. A martyr.

There would be a funeral now, not a Fiesta.

This is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge – Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. Today’s prompt is the above picture.

Hope you enjoyed.

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The Painter’s Muse

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He was a painter. A bad one. His subjects looked like they were ready to puke. I bet the red lady was feeling queasy.

How I hated the constant partying and chatter of snobbish starving artists. God, how highly those penniless beggars thought of themselves!

When I decided to run off with Juan, I thought he was rich. I wanted the glamor of being his muse. Little did I know the bugger was penniless and too proud!

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. It didn’t make the toilet either. The red lady was ruined. Oh, well!

This is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge – Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. Today’s prompt is the above picture.

Hope you enjoyed.

Her Father’s Lamp

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Image Source: Dawn M. Miller

“Are you sure it’s here?”

“I don’t know. All mother would say was that she sold it to Bob.”

“This is Bob’s stall, but I don’t see him or the lamp.”

Kate thought of her mother. Sweet but senile. Yesterday, she had sold most of her antiques to her neighbor, the nosy dealer. He had ripped her off.

All Kate needed was the lamp. Her father’s.

Her only memory of her father was that of him sitting in the study, with the lamp on and a book in his hands.

She was 4 when he died.

She was never going to find the lamp now, was she?

This is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge – Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. Today’s prompt is the above picture.

Hope you enjoyed.