‘The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. Please try to keep it as close to the 200 words as possible. It doesn’t have to be centre stage in the story, I have seen some, where the placement is so subtle, the writer states where it is.’
Henri turned his attention from his lifeless prey and returned to his workstation.
He wiped the wooden block scrupulously clean, then set out his implements one by one, stainless steel gleaming under the spotlights.
He caressed the handle of each knife, the cold steel soothing his fingertips. He contemplated the cuts, bruises and burn marks on his hands, remembering when the knife had slipped or the mallet had missed its mark.
In the heat of the action, the deadline was crucial. Everything had to be ready on time.
Henri wasn’t ruthless, but in his pursuit of perfection, his passion rendered him single-minded. Everything had to be just right. Each incision had to be precise.
He deftly worked his knives on each breast in turn before carefully placing the breasts on a plate. Then he carefully arranged the vegetables and stacked the rosti potatoes.
He took the blowtorch and seared the turkey breasts carefully.
When he was totally satisfied, he barked his order from the pass.