As I strolled along the ancient paths through the city, I could see the imprints in the stones of those who walked before me. The vines climbed the walls and the shutters banged hard against the walls from the wind. This town was founded in 1268 under the rule of Alfons von Kastilien of the House of Burgundy who would come to see his mistress in the dead of night and lay with her.
The court will convene tomorrow to finalize my lineage so I can take the throne on my 21st birthday. I still wonder how they tracked me down.
I awoke this morning with your lovely face on my mind, as I do every day. I received your letter yesterday and the smell of lilacs reminded me of the day we were married. I still marvel at the fact you said yes knowing I had enlisted. I wish we had been together more than 10 days before I had to leave you.
The war rages on. I hear the sounds in my mind even when it is quiet outside. The noise I can sleep through these days amazes me. When I get home, the sound of you breathing will be a welcome change.
I miss you more each day but I have your picture to look at when I feel the most lonely. Knowing I have you and Todd to come home to gets me through the hours. I cannot wait to see my beautiful son when I return. I am sure he has your eyes. I know he will change so much before I get to hold him.
I have to close now my darling, breakfast waits in the mess tent. I love you with all my heart.
Your loving husband,
This was inspired by the Sunday Photo Fiction. A story challenge using 200 words based on the picture provided. If you would like to play along, please follow the link above or click the icon below. Enjoy! 🙂
Built in 1909, the old house held many secrets.
Used as a brothel during WW II, countless shady characters had come and gone.
It was shut down in 1914 when the owner was found dead on the basement floor.
Mystery had surrounded her death for 100 years.
Seeing new life with renovations, walls came down and new ones built.
The sledge hammer smashed the rotting tender boards when a gunshot rang out.
A pistol laid on the floor where it had fallen from a rafter.
The murder weapon of Madam Hillary Fortgang had finally been found.
No one had paid….
This was written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you would like to play along, please follow the prompt below and give it a try!!
Sounds of the machines can still be heard if you listen closely in the silence of the tomb-like workshop. Not far in the past, a bustling area used to cut wood for a local lumber yard. Men counting inches and measuring pine, oak and maple to be used in construction of houses and local projects. Then came that day; a worker went outside for a smoke, only to return and find the entire shop abandoned. Everyone was gone and the machines were quiet. They had simply vanished and no one ever saw them again. Dust was in the air…….
My entry this week for Friday Fictioners with our wonderful host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. I love this challenge because it stimulates me to write something from someone else’s prompt. If you are so inclined to check it out yourself. Follow the link below! Have an awesome day my peeps! 🙂