Join us on Monday’s to spin a yarn based on a picture prompt. Submissions welcome all week. Submit a short story or poem, of five-hundred words or less. Poetry and all genres welcome, but we do ask that you preface your post with a disclaimer if it contains graphic sex or extremely vulgar language to avoid offending anyone. If you desire critique and technical advice say so, if not, let us know in your introduction.
A new photo will be presented each Monday so you can spin a new yarn.
All rights to the photo remain with the photographer. Photo submissions are welcome.
To enter your story leave your URL in the comments section. A link management tool will be added at a later time.
Now, on to the fun!
Copyright 2013 Jane Kohler
“Freakin’ perfect!” she shouted when the car stalled, “I guess John is incapable of pumping gas, well, that and being faithful!” she shouted, jumping from the car. Unable to erase the image of his naked body on her equally naked neighbor, she set her jaw and started walking.
She would deal with him later, right now she had to find gas. Shouldering her bag she checked for a cell signal as she tried to remember how she ended up here. She had no recollection of leaving the freeway, but here she was, all alone on an unpaved road in the middle of nowhere. She headed north, willing to settle for an old-fashioned pay phone.
A mile in, her feet reminded her she had fled the scene in the red stiletto’s she wore to work. At mile two, the sun began to set as she broke the heels off on a rock. Wincing, she returned the heel-less shoes to her feet, freezing when a trace of music reached her ears. Music meant people and people meant help! Following her ears, she left the road, ignoring the branches tearing at her clothes as she pushed forward. She was about to turn back when she fell into a clearing.
Feeling like she had fallen back in time, she marveled at the beauty and simplicity of the sun dancing over the glassy lake as it shrouded an ancient barn and house in shadows. She was so lost in though she never heard the man approach. When he touched her shoulder she screamed, spinning to face her attacker.
“Sorry Ma’am! ” he sputtered, holding up his hands, “You look like trouble found you, I wanted to help. ”
Trusting the large, dark-haired man immediately, she let him lead her to the house where he put her on the couch with her feet up and a cup of hot tea in her hand. Twenty-four hours passed before she realized she was probably imposing on the tall stranger, but it was like she had known him her entire life. She had tried to leave numerous times, but in the end, she stayed. It was now twenty-nine years and counting.
Musings From the Turnip Patch 