Not For the Food

Today’s picture was taken by Roger Bultot.Thanks, Rochelle, for posting it. I’m sure this scene will inspire many wonderful stories! My 100-word piece about this gorgeous old cafe follows.

Sarah came to the cafe for the sounds
clatter of spoons
rattle of plates
the jingle of laughter and
jangle of that tiny tarnished bell over the door

Sarah made friends here
broke up with boyfriends here
Went away smelling of over-cooked eggs
and burned bacon
and feeling like she’d just left her home.

Home was a mangled car in the yard
home was the sound of the too-loud TV
Mama’s tears
dogs barking
and a faucet drip, drip, dripping

Home smelled of mold and cigarettes
Home was Daddy lying in
her brother’s empty bed
eyes staring at nothing

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The Search Party

This is my 100 word story in response to Rochelle’s wonderful picture. Thanks for keeping our minds working!

Edward has been lost for a month.
“Need to leave,” Suzanna says over the wind. “Mountain’s changing – blizzard tonight.”
“You’re right,” Jonathon says. “We gotta’ go. No food. Not enough warm clothes.”
Firelight illuminates the evening just enough to pack sleeping bags, crampons, poles.
Suzanne throws trash into the flames. “Lighten the load.”
Headlamps bright, they begin their descent, ice axes clattering against their packs.
Midnight. Coals barely alive. Edward, headlamp burning low, stumbles into camp.
Emaciated, he rummages through the ashes, mutters, “Food. Please, God, food.”
One blackened sardine can, a bird bone.
Edward collapses. Broken arm bent beneath him.

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