Sunday Photo Fiction

This was a mistake and, yet, here I am sitting in George’s little house with its white picket fence, staring at his bookshelves which are totally comprised of photography manuals and science fiction novels. I suspect his goal in life is to take photos of aliens.

“They exist, Jo. I’m telling you!”

Yes, near the end of our relationship desperation seeped in just like life-altering green ooze from one of his favorite movies. I couldn’t abide living in his fantasy world for one moment longer and he was disappointed in what he called my “close-mindedness.”

His front door opens. He strides in with an ethereal blonde who looks like a supermodel. The woman, wearing a cropped black top and low slung white jeans, glides across the room, seeming somehow removed from this planet. But then I suppose most models are.

“Jo meet XoXo,” George says, excitement spilling over.

I stand up, wondering again why I’m here, when suddenly the hand XoXo extends becomes a suction cupped tentacle that grasps my arm. The last thing I hear George say before I lose consciousness: “Poor Jo, maybe you’ll believe now.”


end 10/9/2016 (2)

188 words

S. Darlington

To view more Sunday Photo Fiction submission for this prompt visit here.


7 thoughts on “Believe

  1. Reading your comment above, I agree that you can’t have first persons die, although in one book by Dick Francis the protagonist died. I was disappointed with the paradox of it. That was the last of his books I read.

    I really like the way you did this, and poor Jo. I wonder if she passed out due to the unexpectedness of it, or something more gooey. Good story Sascha.

    Liked by 1 person

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