Every Friday, Rochelle provides a pic which the Friday Fictioneers use as a prompt for a 100-word flash fiction. Here is this week’s prompt:
followed by my 100 words. Feedback and criticism are welcome.
The voice boomed through the dark passage, ricocheting from wall to wall. Alberto froze.
Four months ago the conflict had forced him below ground. Since then gunfire and ceasefire had alternated above him so often that he was now unaware who was winning. On the quietest, darkest nights, he risked scavenging for food and supplies outside. Never seen, never speaking.
And now that single voice, that single enticing word, the first he had heard for so long, called out. To him?
Darkness and solitude had taken any trust he once held. He stayed silent. Stayed hidden.