Another opportunity to spin a tale using a simple, singular photo as the launch pad. I hope you are enjoying this week’s selection. My preparation time was severely limited due to packing and planning for a four day jaunt to Chicago with my daughter’s high school band. They traveled with the other three high school bands from our county to combine and march in Chicago’s St. Patrick’s Day parade on Saturday. I got a ton of great pictures from America’s second largest metropolis and will share in the weeks to come.
A bit of housekeeping, I would like to try to make this following hashtag relevant and ask your assistance: #sundayphotofiction. If all you writers and readers would be so kind to include that when you create and comment maybe we can get it going.
It had been 377 days since Hurricane Penelope warped his world. Sure, it was only a three day weekend and she had promised her heart to another, but Evan believed in romance miracles. He was a sucker for Hallmark’s Countdown to Christmas and Countdown to Valentine’s Day movie marathons. You see he wanted that in his life and he felt like Penelope Ann Hillerman was his Cinderella.
This was the day they planned to meet. If she was not married to Biff, or Bart of whatever his name was she promised to meet Evan right here at 2 PM.
He tapped the rail on the Maid of the Mist as he listened to the water from the falls roaring in the background. His heart began to sink as he saw the crew readying to sail. Then he saw the funniest, yet sweetest sight of his life. Here came Penelope running down the hill to the boat in a huge, flowing wedding gown.
“Evan! Wait!” she screamed from the walk.
When he finally got to her she could barely talk.
“I don’t want to marry a Dugger! Nineteen babies will wreck my body. Promise me no more than three!”
“Whatever you want darling! Whatever you want!”