More Than a Prompt

More Than a Prompt

         It was a prompt on a website. Nothing more. A picture of a stern looking man burning papers in an office. It should have been easy for me to come up with a story. I am a writer after all, or I like to think so. A prompt isn't like staring at a blank page, waiting for inspiration. I usually write fiction for Pete's sake. It's all lies. Or is it?
         The more I look at the man the more he looks familiar. It's a picture, a good one, but still just a picture. The man may not even exist. Except I know he does. I've seen him before. In the mirror. The man is me.
         I should research where the picture came from. It haunts me as I stare at it.
         My latest book is non-fiction and full of controversial material. I've been wondering if it should be published. I sent it to my editor, but I know he hasn't read it. He told me he would file it until after the weekend. It is Friday night as I stare at this picture of me.
         Me in the near future. I knew what I had to do.

202 wds