Declining Yore Kind Offah

We keep grandpa’s soul in that red jar.

Most of the family is here, actually, going back at least three gen’rations. Emily says when the sun hits ‘em right, you can see smoky shapes in the jars, sometimes little eyes. I ain’t never seen none o’ that stuff, but I believe her cause most all of the girls have the Sight.

Grandma had it too. We don’t have a jar for ‘er. She run orft the day ‘fore grandpa got hit by that truck.

Emily says I should quit yammerin’, and not ride home in yore car tonight.

Sorry, mister.

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100 words. Inspired by this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © G.L. MacMillan.
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44 thoughts on “Declining Yore Kind Offah”

  1. I wouldn’t worry about toning it down – FF is supposed to be fun!
    I love this piece – it could go in so many directions. I can see the listener edging away and completely freaked out.

  2. Excellent take on the photo, Dave. Interesting story, could see a book or short story come out of this one. More than 100 words, of course… but these were a great 100.

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