Old building next to a creek

Photo Copyright–Barbara W. Beacham

This is my contribution this week to the challenge, Monday’s Finish the Story hosted by Barbara Beacham. Every Monday, Barbara supplies a new picture prompt along with the first sentence to be used for the story. The original story to be written should have only 100 to 150 additional words. I’ve bolded the first sentence given with the picture prompt. Be sure to click on the little blue frog in the blue box to read the other stories.

The link for all other stories is as follows:


Genre: Humor Fiction

Word Count: 11+4+150=165 Words


Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River. It was an unpainted shack of a place. Inside it had only the barest furnishins: an old cook stove, a couple a beds, a table. and a couple chairs.

I been Jack’s partner for nigh on to forty years now. We’re both gettin’ up in age.

It’s been so long since we pulled a successful bank job, I think the law has forgotten about us.

I asked him just the other day, “Jack, ain’t we ever gonna pull another bank job and get some more cash?”

He said right back in my face, “You shut your trap, Tom. You’re eaten ain’t ya?”

What I didn’t know was Jack was holden’ out on me. His son was sendin’ him money just to keep him out of trouble. That doggone Jack is a proud one. He sure is that. He didn’t want nobody to know he was acceptin’ handouts from his boy.

Symbol for Monday's Finish the Story





Posed skeleton in a shed.

Copyright–Alastair Forbes

This is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction for February 1, 2015. Every Sunday a new picture prompt is supplied by Alastair Forbes, the host. The weekly challenge is to write an origianl story with no more than 200 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. Be sure to click on the little blue frog in the blue box to read all the other stories.

The link for all other stories is as follows:


Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 200 Words


Dad and Aunt Margaret never got along. She came to live with us after Mom died four years ago. Then, three years ago, she suddenly left. Dad said she was going because she found a job in another city.

Dad’s always been good to me, and I love him. He drinks sometimes, but has always managed to keep his job at the factory. We eat okay and make the rent each month.

The only thing Dad insists on is that I not go into the shed in the back yard. He said he’d seen rats back there and didn’t want me to get bitten. I’ve never seen rats though, so I don’t understand the problem.

Today Dad said, “Bobby, I’m gonna be late gettin’ home this evenin’. Can you get somethin’ to eat for yourself?”

I said, “Sure Dad. Don’t worry about it.”

I just got home from school and I’m wondering again about that shed. I went and got the key from Dad’s room. I know where he keeps it.

I went out back and fitted it into the rusty door lock. The old door creaked open, and there was a skeleton with Aunt Margaret’s blue dress on.

Sunday Photo Fiction Image