Ghosts of Old Chicago

It’s that time of week again–time for Friday Fictioneers on Wednesday. (The prompt shows up early Wednesday morning, and we have the rest of the week to respond with our 100-word stories.) This week’s prompt is courtesy of yours truly, a photo taken from the sky deck of the historic Inn of Chicago. My accompanying story weighs in at exactly 100 words.

Copyright Marie Gail Stratford

Ghosts of Old Chicago

“Haunted by mobsters or ghosts from my high school days—pick one.”

“I’d rather attend the symphony in peace.”

“We have to spend the night somewhere. The Congress or the Marriott?”

“Tell me about these high school friends of yours haunting the Marriott.”

“Stereotypes from the early ‘90s mostly. Cheerleaders with cute names. Wannabe football players from rival high schools threatening one another in the lobby.”

“Anyone you had sex with?”

“Well, I was 17—but no. None of them were that lucky.”

“Then I vote for the Congress. The ghost of Al Capone could use a good ass kicking.”

***

Apparently, Al Capone has a full staff of spectres working alongside him at the Congress Plaza Hotel. You can read more here.

Murder in Her Headspace

Welcome to my contribution to Friday Fictioneers. Each week, about 100 writers from around the globe respond to a photo prompt with their 100-word stories. You are welcome to play along.

My story this week weighs in at exactly 100 words.

This week’s photo prompt is courtesy of Emily L. Gant.

Copyright Emily L. Gant

Murder in Her Headspace

Shelly plopped into a plastic chair on the roof of her Chicago apartment building and began to write. Online photos of this “greenspace” omitted the dumpsters and blacktop. Instead of feeding urban tranquility, the space provided fantastic inspiration for the thriller she was writing.

As the sun sank, Shelly began to shiver despite the late-summer heat. Her sense of foreboding grew. Time to return to reality. She closed her notebook and entered the stairwell.

The attacker came from behind as Shelly passed the second landing. She didn’t have a chance to scream before a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down

This is my response to the Friday Fictioneers prompt for January 9. The challenge is to write a 100-word story inspired by the photo prompt. Play along by writing your own, reading others and/or commenting on the flashes we fictioneers create. The photo prompt this week comes from Jean L. Hays.  My piece this week weighs in at exactly 100 words.

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down

The Chicago college that June’s senior class visited was located near an infamous section of the L. June, daughter of a parole officer, recognized gang symbols along the route as they rode the Red Line to Wrigley Field. Her classmates remained oblivious.

The group began their return trip after sundown, and June’s apprehension grew.

An argument started between classmates concerning their next stop. “Don’t get off here,” June snapped. They couldn’t read the writing on the wall. They did recognize the sound of a 45 discharging on the platform. Only June knew that the incident wouldn’t make the evening news.