The Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Photo copyright J Hardy Carroll
One Last Time
Quinn, the fifth son of a fifth son, saw things: graves before they were dug, people soon to be dead and buried in those graves. Standing outside the churchyard, head bowed, he took a deep breath and looked up. His heart broke at the sight of the two little girls next to the open grave.
It’s not supposed to be this way, he thought, they are so young. Quinn hurried home, wondering if he was too late. He called his son. “Evan,” he said, almost sobbing, “are Sarah and Allie home? Can I talk to my granddaughters one last time?”
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To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.
It's a long story ... 
He foresaw his own death?
He foresaw the death of his granddaughters. He saw the graves and whoever was standing next to the grave would be buried in it.
I thought it was seventh son of a seventh son?
I looked online for Scottish names for boys. “Quinn” is the fifth born, so I adapted it for my story as the fifth son of the fifth son. Just making it up as I go along!
Fair enough.
Where Sarah and Allie home I wonder?
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I thought about going over the 100-word limit to add more to the story, but it would have taken quite a bit to get in everything I was thinking.
I wouldn’t want a call from Quinn, just saying. Good piece.
That’s a curse, not a gift. Great story, I loved the fifth son of a fifth son instead of the sevenths.