Conditions for this short story were:
Your story must include the pictured setting (it was a red phonebox by a body of water) at some point.
Just because it’s March, your story must include the following “MAR-” words: MARKET, MARBLE, MARVELLOUS, MARSHMALLOW.
Your story’s final sentence must contain dialogue – i.e. someone speaking.
Marc Harper sat on the bench and waited patiently for his daughter, Marcie. The breeze coming off the lake was cooler than usual for this point in spring, and he was grateful for the gloves he wore. Thinking of his hands reminded him to move them to keep the blood flowing and the packet he held rustled, tempting him to open it. Marc easily resisted, however, as the marshmallows were not for him.
He thought back to the last time he spoke to Marcie, calling from the payphone next to him.
---
“Hello?”
“Dad, it’s me.”
“Where are you?" I’d asked.
“Piece of crap car broke down again. Can you come get me?”
I fumed for a moment. “Marvellous. Did you take it for a service like I said?”
SIlence.
“Fine," I said. “Whatever. Where are you then?”
“Down by the lake," she said, relieved to be let off the hook on the service. “You know the payphone near the jetty?”
I nodded, then remembered I was on a call. “OK, I’ll be 20 minutes. You need anything?”
“I’m in the market for hot chocolate and marshmallows?” she asked hopefully.
I looked at the half-drunk hot chocolate on the kitchen counter. “You actually gonna drink it? Or just eat the marshmallows off the top?”
“They’re the best part!," she said.
“Well just ask for marshmallows then!”
“Yeah but you always say no, cos they are just sugar.”
“Hmm," said Marc. “I’ll see you in a bit”.
----
‘A bit’ had stretched out a lot longer than he would have liked, but he carried on waiting. Steps crunched on the gravel behind him, but Marc didn’t turn. Sure enough, a dog walker ambled into his view, trying to stop his canine charge from pulling towards the packet in the hands of the stranger on the bench.
Once upon a time, he’d have sprung up at the first sign of anyone approaching, but he was older now. The dog owner looked at Marc and smiled, and when he didn’t get a reaction he frowned slightly. The dog peed up against the side of the public phonebox. The owner would probably be mortified to learn that it wasn’t a public payphone anymore. Marc had bought it a few years back to prevent it from being taken away from this spot. He needed it as part of the pilgrimage.
Marc’s phone buzzed in his pocket, as his wife called to check he hadn’t completely lost his marbles.
“She’s not here," said Marc.
“I’m sorry, love," said his wife.
I’m sorry. That’s what the detective had said when they found Marcie’s car, and the blood inside it. But ‘disappeared’ wasn’t final. At least not for Marc.
“See you soon, darling,” he said to his wife and hung up. He stood, slowly and took one last look out over the water.
“See you soon, Marcie.”
