A street scene for today’s photo prompt. Something caught my eye and that’s all I could see, then the words came. This is Friday’s Fictioneers 100-word story, brought courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
The street was deserted. Carried on the breeze, rubbish bounced along the pavement. Streetlights shone brightly, but not a soul remained. The signs of abandonment everywhere: the dropped shopping bags, the kids’ scooters, the half-eaten apple.
Above his head, hanging from a neon sign, a futile attempt at protection. He snorted – a derisory gesture: a few cloves wouldn’t defeat a horde. Neither would his gun. He holstered it and drew the weapon out of the scabbard. He’d whittled the stake at one end to an infinitesimal point.
Emerging from the shadows, Van Helsing was back in business.