Okay, so I don't miss it again, here's photo five:

Fate

"...beam snaps, the wheel buckles and collapses. Those people get trapped and crushed."

I listened with macabre amusement, while wondering how many goddamn cycles were left. That should teach me to ride with a stranger.

"This side will bend closer to the ground.” She turned to look at me, wide-eyed. Her tone was now pleading. Urgent. “That’s when you must jump. You'll fracture your ankle, but roll to safety."

"And you?" I couldn't resist.

Her voice resumed its eerie calmness. "I die."

You know the rest. I’ll still never understand one thing. Why did she get on the ride?

Nice one!

Never mind the rest. Wolfram beat me to it.

here's one for #6. Other than being 100 words I don't think it's a true drabble since I think you can see the twist ending coming.

We tried not to hang around Dad at the summer place. We were embarrassed of his little swim trunks and the board he never learned how to ride. Mom spent most of her time chatting with the other moms. Dad tended to hang around with Uncle Henry. He never married; he was such the gentleman, and a gentle man. Back from the beach he’d help Mom in the kitchen or take me out on the porch to trim my unruly bangs. Looking back now, I can’t believe it never occurred to me he and Dad were more than just friends.

good one Wolfram. Thanks for the goosebumps.

Excellent, Wolfram. That gave me the creeps quite nicely.

Laga, I like yours, too. I'm always looking for a reason to bring the hoyay to photos like that.

Thanks. I liked yours too, Laga, and laughed right into the second sentence.

Of course, I dare anyone to say "Dad's little swim trunks" without smiling. Comedy gold.

thanks, Sail. I decided to click on picture #6 sight unseen and write the first thing that popped in my head. If you knew me, you wouldn't be surprised it was hoyay... actually now that I think about it my first thought was of kids who are embarassed by their Dad. The hoyay crept in after I started typing.

Last one for today. Photo Ten.

Return

I was downright terrified. And Emily - well obviously this was when she was still talking to me, a million years before the Milwaukee incident but that's another story - so Emily clutched my hand and told me not to be scared, and that she was gonna look after me forever.

Funny how I remember little details. It was damn sunny, and behind me that weird girl Polly was singing made-up stuff like always - Polly died in a fire the following year, poor girl - and suddenly, he was there. And he was crying.

Emily, always the braver one, spoke first. “Dad?”

you're making my allergies act up, Wolfram.

Photo two.

Home Improvement

She perused the book carefully. This one looked strong. Heavily muscled legs, good if the horse pulled a tendon and couldn't be hitched to the plow. Good strong arms, he would wield a powerful axe. No fear of running short of firewood. From Aberdeen, a Scot? Thrift would be required if the annual payment on the farm was to be made in time. The face, though comely, didn't tell her much. Would he be a kind father to her children? Would she have to wear long sleeves, again, even in the summer?

There were more pictures. She turned the page.