My month old nephew is blissfully asleep (for now), affording me a precious few moments for writing Friday Fictioneers. Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
Here’s my story this week. I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.
The Other Side
“They came in the middle of the night,” my friend’s father said. “One minute you were asleep, the next,” he continued, shaking his head. “The next, they were shooting everyone.”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“We jumped in the river,” he said. “Fully clothed. Not all of us could swim.”
His hand trembled as he traced the sculpture’s weathered face.
“Not all of us could swim,” he repeated.
I glanced at my friend and switched to English.
“Your parents had a hard life, didn’t they?”
“Yes, very hard,” he replied. “The war took everything they had.”