What’s the Mystery?

Another photo to prompt another mystery. What’s the mystery about a burning building in a cemetery? Here’s my beginning:

Even though Jace and I stood like a football field away, we could still feel the heat of the fire that ate up the caretaker’s building in the Union Cemetery.

Lots of people had come into the cemetery to watch: Father Mihalic, Mrs. Hudson, who worked as a janitor at our school, mean, old Mr. Olsen, Mayor Coleman, some other kids on their way to the middle school.

Jace elbowed me. “Did you see the mayor?”

“You can’t miss him.”

He was closer than anybody to the fire, except the firefighters, walking fast, back and forth, shouting if they were sure Mr. Delaney hadn’t been in the building.

“Mayor Coleman’s acting real upset,” said Jace. “Do you think he’s scared he killed Mr. Delaney when he set fire to the place?”

I tried to remember what we’d seen in the early dawn when we’d left the house because Dad had finally come home.

I shook my head. “I think he’s scared he didn’t.”

What’s the Mystery?

This photo looks perfect to prompt a scene from romantic suspense, in which a couple fall in love while trying to solve a mystery or fight a crime. If you love romantic suspense, what’s the mystery this couple could be involved in?

Romantic suspense is a subgenre of crime fiction I rarely enjoy. So this photo inspires me to take a twist on it.

We pounded down the concrete, under the road, Sean’s breath harsher than mine own.

We had to catch them. Had to. They were the key to the rest of our lives together.

Sean darted up a flight of stairs, and I followed him. If I had to be in this mess, I was glad he was in it with me. No one else had his courage and determination.

We raced along a catwalk that ran beside the deserted road. Below and ahead, two figures came into view.

Sean kicked up the pace. If he could just get close enough …

One figure stumbled, and the second bent over.

Sean stopped and raised his gun.

If he could kill them now, we’d be safe. No one would ever suspect my husband’s death was anything but an accident.

Sean fired.

What’s the Mystery?

October is mystery month on my blog. What’s the mystery this photo might inspire? Here’s my idea:

The two men talked as they walked, but they seemed more focused on each sound that made them glance over their shoulders or peer toward the end of the tunnel.

“It’s all set then?” said the younger man.

“Unless you have any more questions.” The older man adjusted his hat.

“Just one.” The young man stopped. “Should we go through with it?”

The moisture dripped from the ceiling of the tunnel.

His head bent, the older man said, “What choice do we have?” He jerked upright. “Someone ran across the entrance.”

Monday Sparks — Writing Prompts: What’s the Mystery?

readingw-1803540_1920What’s the mystery about this quaint photo? The scene looks so peaceful. An elderly man reading a book on the porch of his small cabin. With a rifle across this knees. Things can’t be as peaceful as they seem. Here’s my opening. I’d love to hear yours.

I trudged up the dirt and spotted a man sitting on the front porch of his cabin, reading, a rifle balanced on his knees.

I stopped. Most people kept a cup of coffee or tea close by when they read. Not a gun.

The man looked up from his book, scanned me from head to toe, and then smiled. “Need help?”

“Yes. My car broke down, and I can’t get reception. Do you have a phone with a land line?”

“Only kind of phone that works around here. C’mon in.”

I thanked him and walked onto the porch.

As I pulled open the screen door, a large SUV ground up the road and parked in front the cabin.

The man set aside his book. Any trace of a smile gone, he swiveled the rifle toward the vehicle as a tall man slammed the driver’s door.

Monday Sparks — Writing Prompts: What’s the Mystery?

power-station-w4002026_1920What’s the mystery about this photo? Who’s is the dark figure in the foreground and what’s is his or her connection with the plant in the background? Here’s my version:

As an evening wind spun dry leaves over my tennis shoes, I leaned against my battered car and stared out over scrubby brush and empty fields.

The Ramson plant. It employed most of the people in the county. The Ramsons were the most powerful family in the area because they owned it. Local businesses depended on it. Local charities counted on contributions from the plant and the Ramsons. The citizens of Auger County couldn’t imagine life without the plant.

They’d better.

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