She should’ve known things were about to go awry when the photo booth started to talk like it knew what it was talking about—
“Excuse me, I’m your what?!” she gasped, confusion quickly turning into panic, shooting right up into a slew of pained and horrified screams as the metal walls began to twist, to screech, to crunch.
“Aaah, feisty,” the photo booth trilled amidst the bloody ruckus of its late night dinner. “Bon appétit!”
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 295 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
The place looks familiar, but it also feels rather strange that he remembers it without actually remembering it. He’s been here before, but can’t figure out why that matters enough to stop him in his tracks.
The groaning, shambling horde has since crossed the bridge, with only two of them tumbling off the edge into the water—the canal; and yet, here he still stands, chewing thoughtfully on a takeaway hand, drawing in a lungful of the now stale air as reminiscence of a surprise proposal trip he took with his girlfriend starts to spark life back into his undead mind.
He chokes on something and now has half the mind to spit it out into his gray palm. The diamond ring looks familiar, too; he wishes he could just forget again.
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 294 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
The old man stood there, a hand pressed to his chin, and the look in his eyes so unnervingly focused that when he moved and finally approached, I shrieked and turned the other way.
He grabbed me by the arm, his grip surprisingly gentle, and asked if I was Olive’s kid. I replied with a slow nod and a quiet yes, wondering how he knew my mother.
“I can’t stands yer pops,” he grunted, then his face began to ease into a smile, wistful and affectionate, “But tell yer momma Popeye says hi.”
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 193 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
The slab of stone has been touted as the greatest archaeological find of his generation.
Sure, Fru finds the markings on it especially fascinating, showing what could well be the oldest writing system known to date. Some over-thinkers and creative minds have even suggested the possibility of a secret message–a prophecy, a warning–hidden behind the squiggles and shapes of black, white and green, framed by a broken layer of ancient glass, too thick and too solid to be of any use today.
Half the world is already neck-deep in unraveling the mysteries of this latest historical enigma. And Fru’s just here wondering why their ancestors, who lived in a supposedly advanced society some 100,00 years ago, were still writing on walls.
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 185 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
The path is paved in rainbow colors, the symbol of hope. At one end of which stands a pale blue structure– pristine and untouched by the devastation that swept through the rest of what was once a lively town. The Girl takes one last look at it and for the first time sees it for what it really is–four walls and a roof.
Turning on legs already wobbled by the plague that killed her community, she catches sight of a faint dash of rainbow in the sky. No pot of gold or empty promises of eternal salvation at the end of it. Just plain hope for another day.
The Girl smiles and shuffles towards it.
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 184 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
“And there goes another earth,” Lucifer sighs, leaning on the viewing deck. “That old man needs a new hobby.”
“You don’t say,” Gabriel smirks, already getting ideas. Beside him, Michael lets out a howl to rival the crash and clatter of the apocalyptic storm, as though fully convinced he’s the one causing it.
It is, however, Baby Jesus who capsizes humankind’s wooden boat, innocently mistaking it for a toy.
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 183 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
For the first time in centuries, the Elf Queen sits on the grass.
Being here, away from the chaos of her kingdom, gives her pause to remember the young, idealistic ruler she once was before power, ambition and the court’s dirty politics corrupted her compassionate heart.
She sighs after a while, giving the executioner her sincerest, most benevolent smile, “I’m ready.”
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 182 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
Tim was just about to nod off into oblivion when Mrs. Lu, their usually uninspired science professor, brought out a photo of the alleged alien species that was photographed millions of light years ago on some primitive planetary system in some faraway galaxy that had yet to learn the wonders of a synthetic sun—no wonder this one looked so strange with its fluffy white skin and faceless bubble head.
“What’s it called?” he asked, his four hands and five feet already fidgeting in anticipation.
Three of Mrs. Lu’s eyes took on a pensive gleam, the other three fixing themselves on Tim, only one of which glinted with certainty, “I believe they call themselves ‘mankind’…”
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 181 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
“Where’s Steve?!” Hans screamed, barely maneuvering his jet off the path of a fidgeting tentacle. They had not counted on the alien bug blowing up into an abomination the size of ten cruise ships (maybe more… they had only been around to see it swallow that much) and throwing a fit like a roomful of teenage hormones (drunk on booze, privilege, and not much else), in under an hour like it’s on a tight schedule to cause as much nuisance as it could wreck. And all this while their Captain (that perpetually stoned donkey!) was holed up somewhere else in a mood of his own.
“He’s on the way!” Barry gasped, caught in a battle with one of the bug’s four wailing heads. “Said we should start bolting in together so he could just snap right on when he arrives!”
Hans blurted out a string of what-the-fuckeries echoed by the other three (yes, even Barry)—knowing their captain too well to believe that nonsense and already seeing tomorrow’s front page feature on the infamous headless robot who came within an inch of its life, but (thankfully and by some flukish miracle) still managed to save the day.
———- *Inspired by thephoto prompt above for Week 180 of the Three Line Tales Challenge @ Only 100 Words.
