Screeching followed as I raced through the countryside, north. I’d heard about a man who’d help, for a cost. Rounded into the murky hub of an old boat, days huddled in cramped, stinking, silence. Waves crashed, straining its joints to the breaking point. Sirens wailed, men with guns stormed down. Terrified, we obeyed; we’d seen what authority could do. They told us we would not reach the mainland as promised. They shipped us to an island camp for processing. Here we sit in barbed wire, on dirt floors, indefinitely waiting. I didn’t know this was what safety would look like.
The Friday Fictioneers challenge is to write a story of no more than 100 words from a photo prompt, from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.
PHOTO PROMPT © Madison Woods
For other stories from this photo, click on the frog.
Dear Jo,
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers. 😀 I should warn you that it’s highly addictive. I started as one of the gang four years ago this month and haven’t missed a week since.
Disturbing story and well written. It does feel like history repeating itself, doesn’t it?
To set your mind at ease, you’ve linked perfectly.
Shalom,
Rochelle
PS Wisoff not Wysoff. 😉
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Thanks Rochelle (and I’ve fixed your name)
🙂
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Wow! I wish this theme had occurred to me when I saw the photo
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Thanks Neil. It is quite amazing how one story can inspire such diverse stories.
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Driving families from the land of their families to safety? Behind barbed wire! Well done, well thought out. Welcome to the world of flash fiction.
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Thanks Mike
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Welcome to freedom, and barbed wire. Well written.
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Thank you 🙂
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A story heavy with knowledge of the daily news… freedom looks so different when you have reached it…
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Sad reality for too many these days. Good story, and welcome.
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Thank you
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