If you are wondering what a cartouche is, you can follow the links in the story. I have included the definition as well as what a piece of jewelry would look like. They are beautiful and unique and I have one in gold.
Jared stumbled around and looked up at the sun again. He searched for the small rock formations he used to guide him back to where he had left his “art” to age from the weather.
The pieces of metal were all laid out beside one another where he placed them to oxidize in the desert. He put them here three weeks ago. Pieces of steel, copper, gold and silver were lying in a semi-circle around the corpse. They were all new colors now and lightly dusted with dirt.
The abstract photos of the aging body and metal would make a nice addition to his private gallery.
The room smelled of sweat and fear. Cuttings of material and plastic lay on the concrete floor along with litter and rodent droppings.
The whine still hung in the air even though the big machines were quiet now.
The world had stopped when they walked into the factory. Just on the other side of the door, the men had heard the sound. It was a cacophony of clanging and whooshing. Voices reverberated over the noise as the workers yelled to each other. Yet the room stood silent and empty except for the dust floating in the rays of the sun.
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!!