A Tale With Two Photos
The gals behind the fantastic writing prompt challenge have shaken things up a bit. At first, I thought the changes would make for an easy challenge (hence, the word "challenge" might no longer apply...). But, I was wrong. This turned out to be tougher than I thought. You should give it a try, and if you do, here are the rules:
1) Include both of the photos in your story in some way.2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up (leave a comment if you don't know how! We'll help you out!)
4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena, or Leanne) when you’re done via the inLinkz linky on their sites.
5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.
So, let's do this!
The Unknown That Lies Ahead
The Greyhound dropped Sam off five blocks from his parent's home, five blocks he needed to navigate at night. After 15 years he hoped he could find the place. He sighed and began the slow climb up the winding streets.
Maybe he should have called, he asked himself for the thousandth time. Every time the thought came to him he immediately dismissed it wondering what in the world he could say to his sister, the last family member (other than himself) who still lived. Sorry I left home at 16 after dad tried to kill me with a baseball bat. Is that what he should say? Sorry he never called, never wrote, never bothered to make contact even after his father and mother both died.
No, every excuse rang hallow in his mind. He wrapped his thin jacket tighter around his shoulders forgetting how cold San Francisco can be, even in summer. The backpack that contained 75% of everything he owned weighed heavily as he continued climbing. Almost there, he thought.
As Sam walked he mentally batted away nightmares that plagued him, nightmares that had plagued him for years. Would the house be the same? Would his sister have thrown out anything reminding her of his existence? A vision of her room growing up appeared in his consciousness. She was only nine-years old when he left and her room reflected a girl in love with the Backstreet Boys and Will Smith. Even at a young age she loved antiques, a trait picked up from her mom. Her room was full of old cabinets full of drawers. Surely her tastes would have changed. She's a woman, now. Then again, maybe not.
The thought gave the starving laborer a chill no bay fog could match. I should turn around right now, he thought. Go back to LA and pretend to have a life, pretend to eek out an existence in a world of false hope. Sam looked behind him, at the way he had come and realized going back held nothing for him. His future lie in the unknown, an unknown he would meet at the top of a street on a San Francisco hill.
Word Count: 368