The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Best wishes go out to our friend CEAYR and hopes that he’ll be without pain very soon.
This month marks my fourth Friday Fictioneers Anniversary! To commemorate it I’m posting a rerun. At least the photo’s a rerun. If you already wrote a story to go with this prompt all those years ago, feel free to take a breather and re-post it.
As I reread the story I posted four years ago this week, I decided it needed some updating. It was, after all, the third flash fiction I ever wrote. If you’d like to read the original click HERE
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
IN MEMORY OF 24682
Between barbs and twisted wire the sun had the audacity to shine. Marushka’s stomach howled in outrage as she licked the dregs of a discarded sardine tin. She stretched her skeletal legs and longed for silk stockings to hug her once shapely calves.
She took a cracked mirror from her pocket and winced at her bald reflection. Murderer!
“I couldn’t let them hear you.” Memories of her baby gasping for breath under her palm haunted her. Employing the jagged glass, she slashed from her wrist to her tattoo. Relief flooded her as her life pooled in the grass. “Mama’s coming.”