Lost – Friday Fictioneers

Ahh yes… friends and camping.  Many a memory do I have of certain trips.  We’ll just leave it at that for now on this Wednesday afternoon.

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, where people from all over the world not only attempt but succeed in writing a 100-word story based on a photo prompt supplied by our fearless leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week, she has prompted us with a photo from her other half, Jan.  Thanks for taking your yearly trip to Sturgis and supplying such a great photo, Jan!

Should you wish to participate, click on the blue frog to add your story.  If you need rules and regs, click on Rochelle’s name above.

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©Jan Wayne Fields

Lost

The group of friends were loud and drunk, raising hell around their campsite.

She staggered her way to the bathroom, the sounds dimming as she approached the building.

After doing her business, she tried to make her way back.   Wait.  Which direction?  Follow the laughter.   Wait.  What laughter?  Look for the campfire.  Wait.  What campfire?

She stumbled, tripping over exposed roots.   Finally.  George, alone, grinning Goofy-like, fire out, sitting on the picnic table.

“What took you so long?”

“Dammit!  Where were you?  I was lost!  Why didn’t you come search for me?”

Laughing, “Seriously?  You were all of  15 feet away!”