About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a photo prompt. Your mission, if you choose to accept the challenge, is to tell a story in 280 characters or less. When you write your tale, be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale.
A final note: if you need help tracking the number of characters in your story, there is a nifty online tool that will count for you at charactercountonline.com .
I will do a roundup each Tuesday, along with providing a new prompt. And if for some reason I missed your entry in the Roundup, as I have occasionally done, please let me know. I want to be sure to include your tale.
Finally, have fun!
And REMEMBER…you have 280 characters (spaces and punctuation included), to tell your tale…and a week to do it. I can’t wait to see what you create this week.
Starting us off…
“It’s Roger’s skiff alright. What’s left of it. Don’t know whether to be happy or sad. Damn that Roger. Three weeks! Always getting himself into a mess that the rest of us have to bail him out of.”
Just then, there was a rustling in the brush.
“Hey Joel! What took ya’ll so long?”
From Reena at ReInventions:
“Reflections do nothing to boost my self-esteem.”
“You look beautiful….”
“I look different … in different mediums. It is the medium that makes or breaks me.”
She was tracing lines with a twig on water, watching the images crack up, and make faces at her. She was no longer whole.
From Fandango at This, That, and The Other:
“Is this a painting or a photograph?” Don asked.
“You seriously can’t tell?” Helen responded.
“Oh, I’m sorry if I offended you,” Don said.
“You didn’t offend me. It’s actually an oil painting I made of a photo I took,” Helen explained.
“It’s beautiful,” Don said. “Picture perfect!”
From Deborah at Twenty-Four:
With one final dab he lifted the paintbrush, was the green too vivid? Were the colours accurate?
As he hesitated the front door slammed and fearful of discovery he threw aside the brush and bounded to the front door, desperate to appear dutiful.
“What you been up to Fido?”
From Hélène at Willow Poetry:
In my quiet solitude, unable to control my tears, I recall the love we shared hiking to our secret spot. It has become an aching memory etched deeply within my heart. Since you left, I feel like this abandoned little rowboat, half submerged, slowly slipping from the surface.
From Jane at Jane Dougherty Writes:
The Groke sat so still her great bulk made not even a ripple on the lake’s surface. She had spat out the boat part but she still had terrible stomach ache. The juicy part inside was tasty enough, but the rubber waders and the fishing tackle were playing havoc with her digestion.
From Edwin at Edwin’s Journal:
“Such a vivid place. The colours look so picture perfect. Those waters are so calm, with ripples none. This might be heaven on Earth.”
“I’ve heard that there’s a Sea monster in a cave deep inside those waters.”
“Really? Ready for adventure time?”
“What? Are you joking?”
From Indhu at Always:
I was all set to propose her today. I wanted to do it at her favorite spot where she spent most of her time rowing in her small boat. She was a happy, go-lucky girl, liked by all in the town. Alas! I knew her better. The broken boat! What is the hurry to leave this world? Why?
From Anuragbakhshi at Jagahdilmein:
“Darling, they say an imperfection makes one more beautiful.”
“Lovely sentiment dear, but…”
“Even the moon has scars.”
“A dash of imperfection leads to memorability.”
“I agree, but did you HAVE to sink our only boat to insert an imperfection into your photograph?”
Thank you everyone for joining the challenge this week. I really enjoyed everyone’s take this week. We had a dog who paints, a proposal…that wasn’t, a few sea monsters and a zealous photographer, and a few wistful thought-provoking streams of consciousness. Such fun!
This week we’re hitting the rails, on a train ride. There is a story here. Tell us, in 280 characters or less of course. Hope to see you at the roundup next week!
Martin fumbled with the newspaper. “Don’t let them see you sweat, Martin,” he thought. How did they know he was on this train? Who was he kidding? They always knew.
As the train slowed to a stop, they made their move.
“Hello Martin. It’s time to get you back to the hospital.”