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. If you would prefer to post your tale in the comments (some people have very specific blog themes but still want to participate), I am happy to post a link to your site when I post your tale in the Round Up.
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:
Murdoch took a drag off his Lucky Strike. Smoke mingled with the steam bellowing from her pistons.
Red was a real beauty, with sleek lines, a classic, but she was stuck; a pile of cold iron and steel, she had all but given up.
Then she whispered, “I think I can…”
And she did.
By Reena at ReInventions:
Overconfidence made him feel good – like he will tame the fury of the steam engine and make it work – in another way.
It was a long journey of thought from Michael Faraday to Thomas Davenport – but the electric engine was invented. Innovative minds boost mutual confidence.
By The Dark Netizen:
Smoking did not help in this storm, but he was compelled by habit. The train had arrived on time. He dropped his cigarette and began walking towards the halting train. He had a few deliveries to make to his former employers.
A dozen bullets to their heads….
Character Count: 270
By Lorraine at Lorraine’s Frilly Freudian Slip:
One foggy evening, a man stands musing:
“Must be a new art installation. Holographic faux film noir posters.”
Whistling a Duke Ellington tune, he continues his stroll.
Past the abandoned theatre.
Bogey finishes his smoke. Bacall steps onto the platform.
Movie magic circa 1946.
By Radhika at Radhika’s Reflection:
The rain lashed against the menacing wind. A few stray dogs howled giving the deserted station an eerie feel. The train was all set to chug along. At the stroke of midnight, Alberto lit a cigarette, checked his pistol and boarded the train. It was time to carry out his plan.
Letter count : 277
By Fandango at This, That, and the Other:
The detective stood patiently waiting in the cold rain. As the train pulled up to the platform, he flicked his cigarette aside.
But he knew, as soon as he saw the cop who was escorting the prisoner get off the train alone, that the bastard he’d been pursuing had foiled him again.
By Willow at WillowDot21:
What a sight, even on a dark wet night like this. The express pulled in to the station .The hiss as she braked was deafening. Mason scanned the passengers as they disembarked filling the place with bustle. Then he saw her smile, Emerald. Everything else just
By Jo at A Creative PTSD Gal:
Clara sat nervously next to strangers as her stomach turned. The echos of passing tracks below hinted her new life was soon docking.
‘Will he be good to me? Will there be love? It’s survival.’ Clara pondered.
The picture-bride was pulled closer to the station where Eli was waiting.
Character Count: 280
Word Count: 49
By Di at Pensitivity101:
He took a long drag on the single cigarette he’d found in his late grandfather’s belongings. Although he expected it to take him back a few years, this wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined.
By Kristian at Tales from the Mind of Kristian:
A Man on a Mission
He turned up the collar of his raincoat and finished off his cigar.
The train’s brakes squealing as it stopped on schedule.
Throwing the end of the cigar on the floor he put a lozenge in his mouth and boarded the Orient Express.
He was on a mission and it was time for action.
By Tina at Tina Stewart Brakebill:
The 6120 to Chicago
Calling an Uber, Brad was pissed. Who does she think she is? Witch!
He was built for another time. Taking the 6120 to Chicago. Traveling in style. Drink in hand. No complaints about his butt. Dames knew their place.
A muddy splash broke his reverie.
Above it all. She smiled.
By Kate at Everywhere and Nowhere:
He had a quick drag before the train pulled in, when no one got off he went to check what was going on. Murder en route.
He got out his badge and got on board, searching. She looked shocked.
‘This one’s with me’
He didn’t notice the knife slip into another bag as he rushed her away.
By Hayley at The Story Files:
The detective stood on the empty platform, casually smoking a cigarette and watching the steam train rolling in through the heavy down pour of rain.
This was the moment he had been waiting for. The carriage doors open, steam billowed and the hunt for the murder was finally over.
By Sadje at Keep It Alive:
Waiting for the train at the platform, Jack was wondering if she will be on it. She had volunteered to be the witness against the Chicago mob, but it was a very dangerous task. He hoped that she would keep the rendezvous. The train arrived and as the door opened he waited.
Character count: 273
By Rugby at The Bag Lady:
It Was a Dark and Stormy Night
He was there, waiting. As the freezing rain pelted his fedora, he could only wish this was the one. She said the 10:20, but he met every train that night, just in case. He never thought she’d risk everything like this. As the engine roared to a stop, his heart started pounding.
By MSJadeli at Tao Talk:
Mar had been hunting Blue Devil (BD) for eons, in and out of time warps. Mar had only twice been close to stopping the maniac from killing innocents just for fun. Then BD’s chemist helped Mar get to the next jump early. Acid spray would take BD’s machine out of time forever.
By Linda at Charmed Chaos:
Leila knew he would be waiting. Her body quivered recalling how his hands made her flesh sing. Those hot steamy nights in Cuba, making wild passionate love; tattooed on her heart along with his name, Dante. Then he left her, broken. Stepping off the train, she pulled out the gun.
By ESchudal at Zombie Flamingoes:
Wade stuck the brush in his teeth and took a step back to study his latest painting. Finished at last!
By Peter at Peter’s Pondering:
Jake remembered sitting in the Manhattan bar.
He remembered talking to the gorgeous brunette, whose name he discovered was Mitsuko.
He remembered calling her Mitsy, which was easier, especially after the 4th bourbon.
What he couldn’t work out was how the hell he ended up in Japan!
By Tessa at Tessa Can Do It!:
Rambo stood in the shadows, out of the rain, watching for the signal to get ready to enter the train.
The signal came, the train slowed to a stop. Entering, he pulled the gun and searched the cars rapidly looking for his daughter and ex-wife. He removed his daughter at gunpoint.
By Anurag at Jaghadilmein:
The Prime Contender
Henry took one last look at the engine before he left town, forever.
Not in a blaze of glory, but in ignominy.
The engine would have changed his life, if only…
…his cigarette hadn’t burned down his moustaches, just a night before he was supposed to pull the engine with them.
By Teresa atThe Haunted Wordsmith:
It was her last hooray before the scrap yard. Passengers waited on the platform, the moon high over head casting them in an eerie glow. Drizzle dampened moods, but all looked forward to their last trip – especially the crew, who died a century earlier. It was time to retire.
By John at Broadsides:
He liked being a gangster, the suits, the fancy restaurants, the fancy cars, the girls, the guns, the bootleg hooch, the rackets, the numbers, yeah, you were a somebody. He just hoped that the wise guys, the good fellas, the soldiers, that they would not make fun of him, not humiliate him when they found out his hobby was trainspotting.
By Maranda at Maranda Russell:
The train draws near in a cloud of fog – the headlight shining through the mist just enough to illuminate the faces of those waiting to board.
I tip my hat downwards to hide my own expression. I do not want to see. I do not want to be seen. Human attachments will hinder my plans.
By Deb at Twenty Four:
The painting had hung in her Grandfather’s hall forever and he’d known that she despised it, so she was surprised to find that he had bequeathed it to her.
It was only when she took possession that she’d understood.
On the reverse was a Van Goth.
She loved that painting now.
By Ennle at Abandoned Amenities:
Late Train Nerves
She was due in on the 7:10…
8pm, dark, weren’t trains precise?
He’d rehearsed what he was going
To say a dozen times, smoked
A pack of Marlboro’s
Throat raw as his nerves
What if she’d changed her mind
Wasn’t coming home?
Train was pulling in…
For better or worse.
By JP at JP the Wide-Eyed Wanderer:
The Fate of the 6210
Heavy raindrops soaked his cigarette as Sam stood assessing the wreck. Bloody steam bandits! They had derailed the train en-route and, in the confusion, made off with the steam generator. Sam stepped lightly over twisted metal and worse. Now to catch the thieving buggers.
character count 272
By Regina at Help from Heaven:
Honor or Justice?
Boyd looks up at the train. As he smokes, he thinks, “Do I arrest the dame, or do I let her get away? Sometimes what is right prevents justice from being meted out. Without a doubt, the victim was the real criminal!” He walks away, deciding that the lady had suffered enough!
By Ron at Read 4 Fun:
Overcoming the Gloom
Bond liked his job. He had licenses for everything. Every once in a while the tradecraft was old school. Why did she have to arrive by train? He didn’t even smoke, but for the meet he wouldn’t inhale. And what was with the rain? Oh yeah, London. After Brexit, it would get easier.
A week late, inspired by the “IT” sign a tale by Frank at Frank Prem Poetry:
here (is the place)
is the room where
my heart lies
I hold close my dreams
and only I
know where they lie
I always leave
a shingle out
it’s not a matter
or Wi Fi
of the modem
you need to
close your eyes
to find me
Well done everyone! What a great collection of tales a la noir! For this week I found this fun photo by Matthew Henry at Unsplash.com. A Pug in a Blanket, if you will. I’m not trying to be punny…but it’s hard not to see the strange connection to pigs in a blanket that is. Anyhoo. Do you have conversations with your pets? I do. Complete conversations where I can swear they have plenty to say back! Ok, ok…I’m a bit strange, but you already knew that. Actually, this week’s prompt is inspired by a little sleeper of a movie that I saw on Netflix over the weekend. It’s called “Unleashed” about a young woman who writes computer programs and is unlucky in love, so she adopts a dog and a cat, who magically become human due to an auspicious alignment of the stars. It’s a fun movie…but I digress. Does this pup have something to say? What’s his or her story? You have 280 characters to solve this mystery. And I’ll see you at the Roundup!
Twittering Tale #128 – 19 March 2019 – Pug in a Blanket
They Call Me Yoda
I was joking when I said, I wanted to come back as one of their dogs. Didn’t think I’d be dying so soon.
Now, here I am, a pug! I couldn’t be a Shepherd or a Rottweiler?
Anyhow, they call me Yoda. And they do treat me good. You might not believe it, but this is my happy face.