I'm participating in Saturday Centus again this week. This is such a fun way to stretch your creative muscles! I was really hesitant to join, but after a few weeks of reading all the great short stories I decided to give it a whirl. Although now it's become a bit of an obsession :)
Such a simple, yet brilliant premise. Jenny graciously hosts each week, and Mr. Jenny provides us with a writing prompt. The challenge is to write a story of 100 words or less (not including the prompt). No photos, just the pictures that you conjure up with your writing! Fun, huh?
This is my contribution for this week. The prompt is in bold font.
The day started with such promise. A trip to the old home place, seeing where Daddy grew up, the places that shaped him. Sky that heartbreaking blue that only a southern summer can give. Trees draped with Spanish moss like the veils of devout women at Mass. Whirring cicadas, those mad jazz percussionists of summer.
It was Fathers Day, 1984, when I heard that voice in the hallway... followed it down old cellar stairs that screeched like jays protecting a nest. Darkness hiding rotten wood, which gave way, pitching me to the cool dirt floor. Raising my head, I came face to face with a story that Daddy never intended me to know.