This week’s Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt has been something of a challenge. While it might conjure up visions of creepy aliens. it’s a picture of a cut grape vine. I neither wrote about grape vines nor aliens. Just under 100 words this week with 99.
Half naked Himba people in Nambia, a sweaty camera crew and millions of TV viewers witnessed our marriage vows.
I willingly followed Trevor up the Himalayas, drank sun-scorched canteen water instead of Cabernet and swatted mosquitos in the Amazon.
In Nepal he slipped on something and narrowly escaped being trampled by a choleric elephant.
“I’m done,” he whispered later. “Let’s go home.”
“You are my home.”
Back in the states, safe from cheetah attacks and hippo stampedes, Trevor’s mangled body lies on a cold steel table. The driver, texting on her cell phone, never saw him cross the street.