draliman on life

Here is my contribution for Mondays Finish the Story, hosted each week by Barbara Beacham. The goal is to write 100-150 words in response to both a photo and an opening sentence.

Of course, me being me, I wrote a story but forgot about the opening sentence. And there was no way to alter what I’d written to make it fit. So in disgust with myself I spent 15 minutes speed-writing another story. Never have I typed so fast. Maybe I’ll post the other one separately in a day or so.

Click on the blue froggy for the link-up. The opening sentence appears in bold in my story under the photo.

Copyright Barbara Beacham

Little did they know when the photographer took their picture that they would find themselves trapped in a painting. It came as quite a surprise to the photographer as well. Still, this “camera” thingy hadn’t been around very long. Perhaps this was supposed to happen? He wished now that he’d read the manual but, as his father had always said, “Real men don’t read the instructions.”

For years he struggled to find a way to release the little band of players. Their desperate faces as the years went by haunted his dreams. He pushed this button, he pressed that lever. All for naught.

Then it struck him. Opening the camera, he reversed the mirrors and activated the shutter. With a flash of light, the band was free! In celebration they began to play a jaunty tune.

The photographer covered his ears. What a racket! Quickly he reconfigured the camera and pressed the shutter, once more imprisoning them in the painting, never again to pollute the world with their annoying “oom-pah” parping.

Here is my story for Mondays Finish the Story, a weekly photo prompt by Barbara Beacham in which we also get an opening sentence. We get 150 words not counting the supplied sentence, in bold in my story below, which is called “Local Indifference”.

Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, she patiently waited for something to bite. The two old men watched her as she fished.

“Only a fool fishes in Fool’s Lake,” said one.

“Aarr,” agreed the other.

Without any warning a huge creature shot out of the water, raking the woman’s belly and clamping its jaws on her head. The two men watched, shaking their heads.

“’Tis a terrible shame,” said the first.

“Aarr,” agreed the other, puffing his pipe as the woman’s headless corpse toppled forward. “‘Tis not safe, Fool’s Lake.”

The first man nodded as they watched the feeding frenzy, small piranha-like creatures tearing into the woman’s entrails as they dribbled into the water.

“Third one this week. It’s loike thar’s an endless supply o’ tourists.”

“Aarr, ‘tis a shame,” agreed the second.

Some time passed as the two puffed their pipes. Then the second man spoke again.

“Oi hear thar’s a whole bus o’ tourists due in tomorra’.”

“Oi heard that too,” agreed the first. “’Twill be a shame.”

“Aarr, a terrible shame.”