I remember playing in my brother’s room. I must have been about 5.
That was the first time I saw the skull. I’d accidentally opened the wardrobe door and when I looked up to the top shelf, there it was.
I screamed all the way to the kitchen. Mum comforted me and promised to hide it.
I still have occasional nightmares of skull faced aliens.
Our parents house lay abandoned for a while after the freak accident that caused their death. Some sort of fireball apparently, according to the neighbours.
My brother and I finally decided to empty the house and put it up for sale.
We found the skull hidden in a padlocked metal box under a pile of clothes.
Holding it at arms length it wasn’t at all how I remembered it.
I’m sure it didn’t have all those strange drawings over it.
Holding it in both hands, I felt it getting hotter and hotter, and then smoke started escaping from the orifices.
“Run,” I shouted, dragging my brother to the door.
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly Flash Fiction challenge set by Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture. This weeks picture prompt (The featured image) is © A Mixed Bag, 2016.