The FourJs – Short Story


Mondays Finish The Story

Little did they know when the photographer took their picture that they would find themselves trapped in a painting.

“Smile please” the photographer ordered with a devilish grin.

The FourJs, brothers Jim, John, Jack and Jonathan brushed themselves and stood proud. The camera flashed, before it went pitch black. For half hour, Jonathan, 17, the youngest of the FourJs Band, tried to move, shout and even blow his trumpet. Nothing came out. He reached for his oldest brother John, 25. John’s arm felt cold. Jim and Jack were frozen too. People passed them in the street, throwing coins into the tuba case. Traffic hummed. The woman with the funny smell passed quickly, her high heels clicking sharply on the footpath.

“Jonathan! Jonathan! Jo-na-than!”

“Yes!” Jonathan murmured and looked into John’s face.

He had one of those attacks again.

“You, to the doctor” John said, relieved his little brother was ok.


22 thoughts on “The FourJs – Short Story”

  1. This was nicely done! I was not cued to your story because your link was not to the MFtS site, but to the page for InLinx code where stories are added. If you link back to the page for the weekly challenge, it will generate a link in the comments section. Thanks for participating in the challenge and I hope that you will find the time to be able to return! Be well… ^..^

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you very much. I’m glad you liked it. I have to try the next one, I wrote this, when I was ill with hives and forgot to submit it. Do you need to upload it the same week? I have been reading yours and Millie’s and thought I should try it for the exercise (and fun).

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I think the inlinkz page is open for new links for a week (though I’m not certain of this). They are great fun to do. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! 🙂


  2. “What’s the point?” Jonathon said. “We’re stuck in here forever.”
    John yelled over his shoulder, “Mom! He’s hallucinating again!”
    “No. I’m not. He’s evil, I tell you. Evil. That photographer…”
    The mother pressed the back of her hand to Jonathon’s forehead. “He doesn’t seem hot.”
    Jonathon piped up, “Will you listen to me! We’re stuck. That photographer…”
    The mother looked at John. “On second thought call Carpenter Joe. Maybe he’s got some turpentine.”

    Not great, but at least I played along. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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