Why is it that it’s always on days when I have a thousand other things I’m supposed to be doing that the Friday Fictioneers picture grabs my imagination and won’t let go? I really don’t mind, except for the fact that I feel to doggone GUILTY the whole time I’m writing the story because I know I’m supposed to be using the time for something else. Aaahhhhh, I just had another thought: Perhaps that aspect of it adds to my creativity …….
THE LIFE YOU SAVE MAY BE YOUR OWN
The image of that chandelier hanging from the scroll-work ceiling is emblazoned on my mind for life. My enchantment with the artistry of that ceiling was almost my downfall. I still don’t know what sound made me look to the right in time to see Sheila leaning over the top-floor banister, aiming her rifle at me. I choked on my questions — and my scream. But the railing broke away a mere second before she fired, so the bullet missed me.
When I’d filed through that railing, re-painting it, I’d hoped it would do the job when Sheila leaned on it as she loved to do. But I’d had no idea how much my own life depended on my success.