Darlings, I confess I am in a black mood, and so my story reflects that, but rest assured, it is in no way autobiographical.
I do, however, think it is very good. If I do say so myself. Sometimes I see a picture and the story comes right away without much thought or effort. The loneliness of this picture just jumped out at me. Thank you to Ted Strutz for the picture, and to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers — a weekly activity where nearly 100 writers look at a picture and write 100 word tale inspired by the photo.
100 Words precisely.
She sat alone, watching what might be her last sunset.
She hadn’t decided yet, but there was something ominous about the red and white EXIT sign inviting her to oblivion.
She wondered idly if some nervous crewman, upon finding her, would simply dump her body over the side and avoid all the unpleasantness that must accompany a suicide.
The sea was a cruel mistress, someone had once told her, but the sea wasn’t the one fucking her husband of fifteen years.
She shook the bottle of pills and stared at the EXIT sign, flashing yes, no, yes, no, yes, no.
I will do my best to read the other stories as opportunity presents itself. If you want something other that dreary Helena, you could have some fun HERE