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.
Twittering Tales #86 – The Roundup
Starting us off…
Wafts of cinnamon and apples lured us kids to Mrs. Cooper’s open window, not for pie but for browned scraps of crust doused in butter and sprinkled with sugar cinnamon.
I think of her whenever I smell cinnamon, to this day. Thanks for the memories Mrs. C. It was a sweet time.
From Michael at Morpethroad:
The view from the window was his break from the screaming words stuck in his head and craving to be on the page.
There were words he skipped over, some crawled away from his soul still clinging to him.
Refusing the let go he knew sitting with them was better than fighting them off.
From Reena at ReInventions:
The mystery of your presence behind the curtain always held an allure for us.
Yeah… you know the guy things we do, while in college. You were the hottest chick around.
Hmm, I have all the letters sent by ‘us’.
What? We are married now. It’s certainly not a ‘wife’ thing to do.
From Teresa at The Haunted Wordsmith:
What the Paperboy Found
We never thought it would happen here. They seemed like such a nice family. Our children played together. They were over for BBQ and s’mores last weekend. Police have flooded the neighborhood. It was quiet here. We never would have guessed what the paper boy found this morning.
From Lady Lee at Lady Lee Manila:
A New Day
Looking forward to a new day with you and everything thereon
The mist is visible, out of the charcoal curtain is a perfect dawn
Against this milieu the trees are silhouettes, like oil painting
The colours of the foliage return to green, what a perfect dawn
A new day has come!
From the Dark Netizen:
After twelve murders and many petty crimes, this job was a cinch. Even the window was open.
He entered the house, silent as a shadow. No one saw him enter. He spotted gold and precious stones. A huge score, but something felt terribly wrong.
The window closed shut.
Welcome to Hell.
From Martin at Martin Cororan:
Technology had really taken the adrenaline out of Peeping Tommery – spy cams, zoom lenses and such like.
Roger was old school – Get up close and personal, take a table lamp to the face like a man.
The technician tapped the jar in which his brain floated. ‘No Roger! Bad thoughts!’
From Radhika at Radhika’s Reflection:
The Perfect Plan
Samantha would always seek solace in this quaint house amid the hills. It helped her untangle the cacophony of thoughts. But today she needed the peaceful environment to carefully lay down her plan. She could not take any chances. It had to be a fool proof one!
Letter count : 263
From Fandango at This, That, and the Other:
I remember that it was incredibly hot that summer. I feared that we would all surely perish.
One day father came home from work carrying with him an enormous electric fan. Within moments of plugging it in, it pushed most of the hot air right out of our home.
It was a godsend.
From Hayley at The Story Files:
The window had been open for weeks, the net curtain blowing in the wind. Each time I passed, I wanted to shut it but I couldn’t bring myself to. I thought it as a metaphor; when the window closed so would that part of my life and she would be gone forever.
From Jane at Jane Dougherty Writes:
The Face at the Window
Jilly tugged her big brother’s hand. “Why’s there a big wind coming out of Mr Roberts’, Darryl?”
Darryl shrugged. “One of his daft inventions probably.”
“Darryl? Can you see a cat’s face at the window?”
Darryl’s eyes narrowed then widened in fear.
“Darryl, where’s the rest of it?”
From Willow at WillowDot21:
Not that I watching.
They lived opposite and the noise was unbearable especially in the summer months. The net curtains were always clean and often blowing in the breeze.
The noise was awful night after night. He hit her it was stomach turning.Finally it all went quiet and she ran out into the night.
From Jan at Strange Goings on in the Shed:
The smell of sulphur and whispers were coming rasped:
“Come in, the door’s on the latch, sorry about the smell, dinner’s burnt. Cup of tea anyone?”
From Peter at Peter’s Pondering:
I told you not to leave the window open didn’t I?
Did I, or did I not, tell you at least a dozen times “DO NOT LEAVE THE BLOODY WINDOW OPEN!”
Well, you’ve gone and done it now, haven’t you? I told you, but do you listen?
In one ear and out the other!
And now it’s loose out there!
From Kirst at Kirst Writes:
Haunted Coast Part III
Inside, the sickly smell of mould hit me. In the gloom, my footsteps echoed back at me from the peeling walls and vaulted ceilings.
I heaved open a window sash to let the sea air in. Somewhere upstairs a door slammed. Just the breeze, surely? I looked round, sensing something…
From Piyali at The ‘write’ stuff:
Once again, the lone tree swayed and the delicate white curtain hanging from the window fluttered. Inside the dark room, the old lady sighed while knitting away a soft crimson sweater for her grandson; hoping against hope that this summer she’d finally be able to see the child.
From Indhu at Always:
Sid looked out of the window from his chair, lost in thoughts.
I wish I can play cricket on the street. No, I wish to ride a bike around the town.
He paused, he could smell the porridge.
Oh! I am on high chair and its meal time!
He began to think countless ways to spill the food.
From Deb at Twenty Four:
She was mystified … it was gone and she had only placed it there a moment ago. What had happened?
Around the corner an old man sat with his dog, enjoying the still warm apple pie.
A smile upon his weathered face as his dog wagged its tail forever optimistic.
From Isabel at Poetry, Fiction & Photography:
I don’t like it when they open the windows. Memories blow out. And memories are all this place has.
We lived here, slept here, played here. Those moments have faded with the centuries, but they remain. And as long as they remain, so do we.
As always, wonderful tales! Thank you to all who joined the challenge. This week a storm is brewing…or an alien ship is breaking through the clouds or a galactic battle in the night sky over the bay. Hey, it could happen. You never know. You have 280 Characters to tell the story of this photo by jplenio at Pixabay.com. Posting early tonight. I have limited WiFi. Have fun! 😊
Twittering Tales #87 – 5 June 2018
Charlie regretted joining the agency. At first the climate experiments were exciting, but they had taken it too far. He locked his office, drove past the security gate, pulling off the road to call the authorities. A super storm was brewing. He hoped it was not too late.