Sunday, February 15, 2015

A Return To The Plantation

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The house hadn't changed in the years I’d been away.  The gracious trees planted along the driveway and the steps that led to the timber-framed veranda with its white painted balustrades and the carefully manicured lawn.

 A house built on a foundation of stifled screams.

I heard the creaking tones of the rocking chair and knew that he was around.  Every evening he would take off his boots and sit waiting to be served.  Each drink a toast to the devil inside.

There he sat, with a hole in his forehead, just as I had shot him two centuries ago.

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Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

10 comments :

  1. Great story. Molds terrible evil with satisfying revenge in a heartbeat.

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    1. Thanks Margo, glad you liked it.

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  2. creepy. and I could hear the creaks of the rocking chair. well crafted.

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    1. Thank you for reading and commenting Kalpana.

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  3. Dear Subroto,

    This is quite the ghost story. "Each drink a toast to the devil inside." Nice one.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

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    1. Thanks Rochelle. And to think I nearly missed this week's entry. Was written at the midnight hour too :-)

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  4. Anonymous11:44 PM

    Dear Subroto, I love ghost stories - and this is great! So, maybe the narrator ghost gets to leave every once in a while and he stays put on the porch in the rocker with a hole in his head. He must have deserved it. Good story - I really mean it - nice! Nan :)

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    1. Thanks Nan, the intent was that one was a slave and the other the cruel master who was shot dead. I am glad you liked it.

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  5. Replies
    1. Thanks Joy, I am glad you liked it.

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