Photo Prompt

Each month, we post a photograph as a writing prompt. Post your 100-word story in the comments section, and we’ll choose one to feature in our next issue. To see examples, read photo stories we’ve published in the past.

In the spirit of fun and fairness, please follow these guidelines:
• Post only one story per photo prompt.
• Be mindful of others’ feelings when commenting (keep it positive rather than giving feedback).
• Remember this is a shared safe space for all lovers of 100-word stories.


Contact print of a film photograph of the Coney Island Cyclone.

Art Credit: Irene Miranda

30 Responses to “Photo Prompt”

  1. S. Tierney says:

    The last carnival of my adolescence was by far the most indelible. In that single October night:
    I burnt my hair,
    I swore at a clown,
    I lost my watch,
    I met Peter May.
    We ate fried butter, I drank my first Bud,
    We rode the Cyclone, got lost in Coney, ran naked under the tracks,
    I woke up alone.
    One single night… And all I have is this ribbon of reel from Pete’s old camera. I don’t know how, but he captured everything; the gulls, the humidity, the hustle,
    The regret.
    As indelible as the scar under a scab.

  2. K.C. Hill says:

    “Echo in the Southeastern Sky”

    Normally, Sandra photographed weddings, so was thrilled that Mr. Coker hired her to photograph the Cyclone, the fair’s biggest roller coaster.

    “You don’t want me to photograph people? Having fun, eating, screaming. You just want the rollercoaster, and from the ground level. No aerials. You sure?”

    The man wiped his sweaty bald head with a thin napkin. “That’s right. Mostly the arch,” he pointed, “the sign and sky.”

    It had been a cloudless, sunny day.

    Sandra stared at the negatives, watching the echo of a giant roulette table, spinning. Wisps of cloudy forms swarmed towards it. Ghosts. Please, not again.

  3. David Roscoe says:

    Film Roll
    Staring at this roll from decades ago, I see her. Or atleast can remember her and I going there. Lights, music and the food flashes in my mind. She always loved the rollercoasters at the yearly fair. I would throw out my shoulder at the ball game trying to win her the biggest stuffed bear. As I cast my eyes across it, I see her. That smile warms my soul. It has been awhile since she smiled like that. Now it will never be present in this world again. I guess I’ll never get her that stuffed bear after all.

  4. Brianna Lucas says:


    The nebulous crop of sky above Astroland, swollen with stardust, sets the stage of our tragedy. Our cart had stopped dead on the tracks an hour ago. So had our relationship.

    The person that was once my girlfriend is terrified of many things; ghosts, spiders, the unknown. Roller coasters, I learned too late. Above all, she’d said, she was scared of dying with regrets.

    “I don’t see a future for us,” she’d admitted, five minutes post-standstill.

    I look up, away, anywhere but her. The stars are so much colder than I remember. I reach for them, heart in my throat.

  5. Rabab says:


    True , it was only a spark , but l rushed to Marshall , the Security Chief . Chilled by my presence , he looked up and swung into action. Within minutes, the Carousel was emptied . By the time the fire tenders doused the fire , the sky was streaked with red and orange. But no panic , no stampede , no casualties.
    ” lt’s a strange thing ,” said Marshall to T.V. crews later . ” l felt as if someone was warning me …”
    I smiled to myself. The tragedy five years ago in which seventy people including me had lost their lives would never recur . Not as long as l inhabited these grounds.

  6. “The Evidence”

    Bob’s apartment looked like an explosion. The couch cushions were shredded, the twin mattress stripped and flipped. Every drawer dumped to form one haphazard pile in the center of dank wall-to-wall carpet. This had ‘Gianelli Thugs’ written all over it. Bob’s apartment, smaller than his recently vacated prison cell, tossed. He opened the freezer and pulled out a Tony’s Pizza box and felt inside—beneath the shrink-wrapped pepperoni pie. They were still there, sealed in the baggie. He didn’t give two shits about anything else in this wretched hellhole. The hidden negatives were his way out. His ticket to Easy Street.

  7. Sherri Bale says:

    The box in the attic contained decades of my life, all cut into pieces and neatly assembled in plastic sleeves. The jubilant ups, the stomach-dropping downs, the seemingly never-ending motion, the nausea. The fire had started in the basement, so most of the attic was intact. I lit a matchbook and tossed it onto the floor watching as the old newspapers caught and spread. The stench of the melting film hurried me down the stairs and out into the clear night and clean air.

  8. Theodore A. John says:

    It All

    All she ever wanted was to have it all. No less, no more (there’s no “more than all”, sweetie) – but ALL!
    And she was aware of the impossibility, the unreasonableness and the arrogance of her wish. She understood all “wish come true” tales were cautionary tales. She knew her grandma and her ma’s chases of having it all ended up in bleakness and regrets, and she still insisted and she still kept wishing. A quick mind, a slender body. Endless days, ecstatic nights. Peace and riots, ups and downs.
    Time was November, place was electric and the reason –absconded.

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