Scene From A Picture-Snarky Reader Style!

We didn’t get quite the entries as the last sexy leather clad babe in the  SFAP, but what we did receive is fantastic!  As usual, the Snarky Readers wrote to impress and they succeeded. 

A lot of readers have participated in this monthly creative spark and as far as I’m concerned, you all rock. I’d like to say thanks.  I really love reading what pieces are inspired from these images. 

For info on what this is, click here.  And for the next picture with a writing deadline of April 8th, I give you this image.  I’ve been unable to find the artist, but wow, eh? (Click on the image for a larger version.)


If you really want to crawl into a mood, visit , listen to Valoo OST-loud- minimize then click on this image to bring it up so it’s the only thing on your screen.(Choose The Artist for something that feels a little more lovely and magical… 🙂  )

Here is the image (photographer is Sharon Dodd–sorry, she doesn’t have a website yet.) from the last SFAP with the Snarky Reader entries following. 


Betty from Dishin’ The Dirt wrote:

The brochure read, “Awaken Your Spiritual Self.”

$10,000 and a week later, John was already beginning to feel enlightened and second thoughts were circling like harbingers of doom about his head. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Fifteen minutes ago a white robed man, whose primary facial feature was a long somewhat yellowed beard, had brought him out to this desolate spot in the desert. His ancient psychedelically painted van had reeked of the combined incense of marijuana and tobacco.

“You stand before the bridge to enlightenment,” the aging hippy had proclaimed with pontifical solemnity and pointed his bony finger towards the open desert across an anomalous bridge to nowhere that had been constructed out in the middle of this barren wasteland. “Your destiny and great wisdom await you.”

John gazed into the distance trying to make sense of the whole bizarre experience. An elaborate bridge, extending only a few yards, had been constructed with no apparent purpose whatsoever, except possibly to provide shade to the snakes, scorpions and lizards that called the desert home. Behind him John heard the door to the van close.

“I’ll pick you up in this spot after forty days and forty nights.”

“What!” John spun and made a running dive for the van.

“Good Luck, Pilgrim,” were the last words he heard before the van spun away across the sand.

“Well, hell. There goes my ten thousand dollars AND my only ride back to civilization,” he said to no one in particular, except possibly the lizard basking on the bridge to take full advantage of the sun’s heat. He had no one to blame but himself. Signing on for this had been an impulsive decision made after one too many Budweisers and a late night ball game. It was a pretty good scam, if you think about it. Take people’s money then leave your only witness in the desert to die.

Where to go from here? They’d driven in so many circles getting out here that he had absolutely no idea where he was. Until later, when the sun began to drop from the midday sky, he wouldn’t even have a clue as to which direction was north and south.

John squinted his eyes against the sun and began to survey the area around him. What was he looking for? Bodies? Ha. A long while later, when nothing that even remotely resembled a plan had formed in his mind; he turned and did the illogical yet obvious thing. He began to cross the ridiculous bridge.

Why not?

He’d paid $10,000 for the experience after all.


Jen from wrote:

Brandon stopped in the middle of the bridge and looked back where he had come from.

Funny how a no-account kid from the wrong side of the tracks could make it to the right side. It hadn’t been easy, though. And it had damn near cost him everything to do it.

He continued across the bridge. He would never go back. Even as he thought it, he new it for a lie. He would go back. But only if Katrina asked him.


About Rinda Elliott

Writer.I love unusual stories and credit growing up in a family of curious life-lovers who moved all over the country. Books and movies full of fantasy, science fiction and romance kept us amused, especially in some of the stranger places. For years, I tried to separate my darker side with my humorous and romantic one. I published short fiction, but things really started happening when I gave in and mixed it up. When not lost in fiction, I love making wine, collecting music, gaming and spending time with my husband and two children. I’m represented by Miriam Kriss of the Irene Goodman Agency.
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15 Responses to Scene From A Picture-Snarky Reader Style!

  1. Wow, I like the new picture!

  2. I’m with Rachel. The new picture rocks!

  3. relliott4 says:

    I know! I can’t stop looking at it myself. 🙂 Wish I knew who the artist is so I can look at more work.

    What do you guys think of the writing. I cracked up over Betty’s forty days part as the guy ran off.

  4. Dana Pollard says:

    You know, when I saw the picture of the guy walking I thought to myself:

    Just how many damn lights are there to count!? hehe

    I love this picture exercise!

  5. Jen says:

    That new picture is so intriguing! I think I’m going to have to come up with something for it, too. 🙂

  6. WTG, Betty and Jen!

    Okay…you twisted my arm.

    The mirrored reality in between,
    And sorrow for its serendipity
    Alone, I sat
    Seeing the black of an endless abyss
    That pulled me into underworld dreams;

    I should never come back…

    -Not Robert Frost

  7. relliott4 says:

    Heather!!!!!!! Oh man. Oh man. That is simply perfect.

  8. X. Dell says:

    Okay. I’ve got one for the new picture. Will e-mail it anon.

  9. Betty S says:

    The center of the universe, the core of all being, the place where time began —and ends. God sat on the edge of all existence, this time in the form of a child. Time swirled around him like a crystalline river, the trees of life incrementally marking it’s passage. The image was calm and beautiful.

    Yesterday he had created this spot as a green field covered with massive dancing sunflowers. But, today god felt calm, almost tired and in need of rest and a tranquil environment. It was a lonely existence, poised eternally on the edge of all that is.

    God wiggled his toes beneath the flow of the cool water. “I am lonely,“ he said, speaking only to the void that had been filled with these images from his imagination. “I am lonely”. In that sacred moment he thought, I will make a world. And from his very thoughts and the mists of his words, creations appeared, and he blessed them and said that they were good.

  10. Kelli McBride says:

    The little boy flea sat at the edge of the woman’s navel. He was so tired of her incessant bathing and the fear that one day he would be unable to hang on. Dodging the stray bits of belly-button lint was bad enough, but the flea could only speculate in horror at the terror that waited down below in the Inverted Mohawk Forest. Other fleas had ventured there, but only one had returned. Nearly torn limb from limb, the dying flea had muttered incoherently of two great pounding columns that swung like counter-pendulums just below the wiry trees. But the worst monster was “The Claw” that seemed to seek out unerringly any brave flea trying to escape and would rend said flea apart with its red-tipped, razer-points of death.

    The tiniest flea shuddered as he remembered the older flea’s last words to him, “Do not seek the Mohawk Forest. Only death and poisonous fumes wait you there.”

    So, he sat at the edge of the navel abyss, water sluicing around him. This time when the giant sea sponge swooped upon him, he did not jump. He did not evade. He let its toxic foam encompass him. With a tiny shiver, the flea collapsed, this death surely more peaceful than the dismemberment waiting below.

  11. Jenn S says:

    Tyler sat alone in the middle of the street as a fog gently rolled in. Everything seemed tinted with blue, almost surreal. He picked up a rock and threw it into the curb across from him. He never had any friends that would just sit on a curb with him. All he could remember was loneliness. His parents said it was a phase and it would pass but being 9 now, he wasn’t sure anymore. He scooted towards the middle of the street, off the curb. It started to rain gently and puddles gathered around him. Tyler sighed. His mind began to wander as he imagined the puddles gathering together and start to swirl towards a bottomless hole that resembled a bathtub drain. He sat at the edge of the hole, to depressed to be afraid he’d fall into it. He looking into the darkness as the water caressed down the sides of the walls. He stared for what seemed like hours.
    “Tyler! Dinner!” His thoughts were jerked back to reality by his mother’s call. He got up and walked up the driveway and to the door. He opened the door but stopped and looked back at the street and sighed. His imagination was his only friend now and forever. He disappeared inside the doorway.

  12. Jenn S says:

    I ment to say at the end of the first paragraph “He looked into the darkness” instead of “He looking into the darkness”.

  13. Miri says:

    There’s a hole here. Should I go down it?
    It’s not a jagged hole, or a crooked hole, or even a shallow hole that I can trip into and keep running. No, this is a deep, deep hole. I can’t see the bottom of it. And the edge is perfect, round and smooth. This hole would let me slide in, nice and easy. Should I?
    But I can’t see down it. Once I get past a certain point, there won’t be any light at all. Not blue winter light, or the pale light from the mist. As for sunlight? Surely not. The sun doesn’t shine into deep, deep holes.
    I think maybe I should stand up and walk away. But the road fades out so soon, and even if I hold on to the trees, I won’t know when I’ve reached the last one. The trees don’t go on forever, do they? Or maybe they do, but I can’t see them.
    I could even climb a tree, and maybe then I could see more, but they fade out at the top, too. Why does everything fade?
    So maybe I’ll just sit here, safe in the middle of the world I can see, looking at the fading trees and the deep, dark hole. There’s nothing bad here, nothing that might come and get me. If something comes out of the mist, I can see it and run away. And as for the hole? Nothing can live in a hole like that, or climb up from it to get me. I’m safe here, safe at the edge of this deep, dark hole.

  14. Rinda says:

    Yay! More stories. Welcome to the Snark Jen S and Miri!

    I love them!

  15. Pingback: Happy Stuff, Difficult Stuff, Good Music and SFAP Reminder « The Write Snark

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