Photo prompt courtesy and copyright property of C.E. Ayr via the Friday Fictioneers event hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Join in and/or find others’ contributions here.


Derelicts dotted the sidewalk, silently flapping their gums. Dust cloaked the lot of them, but some were outfitted with fashionable flair; wool vests, knitted scarves, and random shoes all about. The only sense of symmetry came from the odd globs that spotted each garment.

I never understood any of this until I fell to the sidewalk. One of my shoes gummed in place, plastered to the curb, and my coat subsequently stuck to the cement. I managed to hold my face barely above dirt-caked disks when I realized that the derelicts wore whatever the concrete claimed.

I surrendered its bounty.


9 thoughts on “Gumshoe

  1. Yuck? This made me think of spots of gum…. which means your story left an impression.

    I managed to hold my face barely above dirt-caked disks ~ I would change this to “barely managed” to help the sentence flow.


  2. Good story. You should be recruited by an environmental think-tank (assuming that hasn’t already happened) – who else could think up a way of using discarded gum to benefit the needy?


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