All along the watchtower

· by · in flashfiction, Friday Fictioneers. ·


Their loaded machine guns could not been seen against the blinding searchlights, but Jorge knew the routines. He recalled the guards’ jargon and how they had quenched memories at the village bar. Memories of bodies sent floating down the river. A loud togetherness despised by silent villagers.

That was before he saw Maria’s pale face in his sniper’s sight, and his finger had been unable to release the trigger. It was before he waited silently hoping that someone up there would hesitate and release him to the other side.

Maria might still be waiting with their unborn child.


I couldn’t make myself writing about the Eiffeltower. So I give you this little tale instead. It was written flying home again after spending Christmas at the wonderful island of Madeira. I hope there might be a picture or two I can share later.

Friday Fictioneers is community of bloggers who under the leadership of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields write a story of 100 words or so on the same picture. If you want to join in, follow the link above or just click the blue guy below for many great stories.


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December 26, 2013

52 responses to “All along the watchtower”

  9. Dear Björn,

    Naturally, I applaud your decision not to write an Eiffel Tower story. 😉 Wonderfully told story with an unexpected ending.
    Hope your holiday was wonderful. I’m looking forward to any photos you decide to send.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

  11. oh my goodness… a story in 100 words… you did well… heck… maybe i should give it a try… and madeira sounds wonderful… i’m a little bit jealous…smiles

  12. nice tension in your story…conflicting interests…would be impossible to pull that trigger on my family…and if i watched them be taken out i would surely follow quickly….

  20. Really like where you went here, Björn. The bright lights took me away from the Tour de Eiffel, as well. I like that you went where the photo took you, instead of where you think it was suppose to be. The phrases “loud togetherness despise by the silent villagers,” “they quenched memories at the village bar,” just beautiful!

  22. Dear Bjorn,

    Welcome back from Madeira. I spent two weeks on New Zealand while you were gone. I applaud your decision not to write about the tower. Good story, no matter what the inspiration.

    Have you ever had the pleasure of listening to The Limelighters sing Have some Madeira, My Dear? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrbAyHVVYgI

    Hope you like it.

    Aloha,

    Doug

  24. Edge of the seat stuff, definitely tensions and emotions running high. When you start a piece with ‘Their loaded machine guns…’ you immediately feel the weight of the situation. I’m exhausted now. Great story.

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