Living in a Silo

PROMPT -© Marie Gail Stratford

When I was a child my mother showed me a photograph of a silo on her uncle’s farm.  Fascinated by the cylindrical building, I asked if she had ever played in it.

She explained patiently the hidden dangers on the farm.  Kids would never enter a silo or grain bin unsupervised, as it's easy to be trapped by flowing grain and suffocate.  

"But that didn’t stop us from exploring it alone," she said with a huge grin on her face.

She flashed that same grin when I visited last week.

"Visiting someone?" she asked and continued chatting with the attendant.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100.  

To read what is happening in the other silos you need to go here.  

The Supplier

PHOTO PROMPT – © Madison Woods

“Whaddya want turdface?” the hulk glowered at me.

Turdface, so our resident walking advertisement for steroids is educated.  Shitface is what I expected around these parts.  I choose the meek demeanour.

“I was told to ask you for clean water sir”.

A crafty avaricious look appears on his face and he looks me up and down.

“Did they tell you there is a cost fugly?”

Everything has a price in this cloistered world that I now inhabit.  Be it food, bedding or any little luxury that you desire.  Clean water is mine.

“Yes sir, I’ll be in your room tonight.”

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100.  

To read what the other inmates have been writing you need to go here.  

Unfortunately it is true that corruption is a significant factor in human rights violations in many criminal justice systems, but then there are those where along with corruption it reads like a soap opera.

Lost in Translation

PHOTO PROMPT – © Dee Lovering

In 1992 Christopher Columbus informed his parents that he was dropping out of university and would be travelling to an ashram in India in order to find himself.  

Financially secure, thanks to a trust fund setup by his late grandmother; he ranted against growing materialism and expressed a desire for a simpler life.

Three months later the consulate in Bahamas contacted his parents, Chris was in the prison charged with being drunk and disorderly.

In 1492 Columbus set sail in a search of a shorter route to India.  He remains till date probably the only man rewarded for getting lost.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100.  

To go on a journey with the other fictioneers you need to go here.  Each one leads to the right destination.

Seeking Stars

PHOTO PROMPT – © Douglas M. MacIlroy

After the snowstorm I stepped out under the pink hued sky.  The land was shrouded under a blanket of white, a place where only dedicated star gazers live. 

“Daddy is Grandma a star in the sky now?”

At night we huddle around telescopes staring at the night sky.

“Daddy do you think I too will be a star one day?”

I ran away from the city when the silence drove a wedge between her mother and me. Homing in on celestial lights I discover stars, nebulas, a cluster and even cold distant galaxies at the far reaches of the universe.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100

In memory of my parents whose 53rd anniversary would have been tomorrow.

The Friday Fictioneers stars themselves have been adding to the galaxy of stories.

I've been writing this while listening to some wonderful music which I must share with you.

Bringing Home the Bacon

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

When my brother won the famed TV cooking show it was our mother’s proudest moment.  His winning dish; a salad of dandelion, jamón Ibérico de Bellota, poached quail's egg with walnut vinaigrette was hailed a masterpiece.  It was mandatory for visitors to watch a recording of the final. 

Mother revelled in his celebrity status so I called him to say that it seemed he was finally forgiven.

“You think so?” he queried.

“I know so,” I replied casting my mind to the time when the house went up in flames.  Bacon and eggs were off the menu for a while.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100

With so many interpretations of the photos, the Friday Fictioneers are a treat by themselves.

The Train Spotter

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

I was sixteen when my father’s cousin found a job for me in the city.  The prospect of earning money alleviated my parents’ misgivings.  The train travelled through a lawless area where armed bandits frequently robbed passengers at gun point.

I boarded the train with money strapped to my chest.  Ferocious looking men boarded my carriage and sat beside me.  Scared witless I kept awake the next eighteen hours maintaining eye contact.

As the trained reached my destination, the meanest looking man smiled and said, “Thank God we reached safely.  We were worried that you were a spotter for bandits”.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers  Word Count : 100

The Rest House

Copyright Lauren Moscato

It was bitterly cold when Paul Getty, Jr. saw a door and windows appear on the brick wall in the abandoned building at the end of the lane.

A vagabond of no fixed address he had changed his name by deed poll earlier in the year.  Rubbing his eyes he cursed the cheap Vodka that he had found in the street.

He clambered on to the back of the parked Ute and swung himself up.  The door opened to a cosy apartment and the warmth lulled him to sleep.

They found him next day frozen to death on the pavement.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Last week I wrote my entry after the link had closed, this week I am on time and hopefully this time there will be visitors.