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.

image of an older person's hands cooking

Art Credit: Damian Siwiaszczyk

23 Responses to “Photo Prompt”

  1. Rabab says:


    I give the finishing touches to the pasta and taste it – perfect, just the way Mickie likes it. I’ve been up since dawn – cooking all his favourite dishes. I have already baked the cake. His father has taken the day off. He is busy decorating.
    Everyone will be here soon.
    Sure enough they troop in excitedly.
    “Where’s Mickie?” someone asks.
    I bring my seven-year- old’s photograph – and place it near the cake. As the children from the Children’s Home begin singing the birthday song, l wipe away a tear. My son would have been thirteen today- had he lived.

  2. Josie Mae Mitchell says:

    Grey Luxury
    I was lucky; I could afford to feed myself. Luckier still, I’d bought the most expensive ingredients, utensils, professional cooking lessons. I had the best that money could buy. Shouldn’t that mean my food, my life, would be the best? Yet, new pots weren’t seasoned with family recipes. My modern mansion felt just as cold with the stove on. Sixty-dollar trash bags were the ones who shared my meals. Was it money or myself that had made my whole world grey? This couldn’t be the meaning of luxury. I could afford to stay alive, but I was starving for life.

  3. Ronald W Chilcutt says:

    Sunday Fun-day?
    Don’t scald the cream. The Roast is in the oven, soup is simmering but I must remember to not scald the cream. My phone is ringing, the baby is crying, the dog is scratching at the door but remember the cream, don’t scald it. I hear my family arriving, the call goes to voicemail, grandma cuddles the baby and my son lets the dog out. I smile and greet everyone, showing thanks for the assistance. The aromas are heavenly, this will be the perfect Sunday Family meal. Oh shit, I have scalded the cream.

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