The Ghost of Flash Fiction

I needed inspiration after being sick a few days. That's a good time to check into the most recent  Sunday Photo Fiction!

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a story of less than 200 words, based on a photo prompt. To join the fun...
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Last Sunday's inspiring picture:

Image: Fandango

“Shh… Mabel, more Living are coming.”

Mabel didn’t shush. “Oh, George, you act like they can hear us. Just don’t rock that rocker!”

The Living came into the ancient, decaying cabin, armed unlike any previous visitors. Usually Living meant hikers, tired, seeking a roof, holey as theirs was, to shelter from the elements. Or teens looking for a private place to do private deeds. Mabel hated that. She felt so defiled when kids screwed on her living room floor.

This was a group of three Living, carrying bulky cameras. 

One with black-rimmed glasses was scribbling in a notebook. Mabel moved closer to look over her shoulder. She was drawing intricate sketches of the old house. “Ooo… George, check this out.”

“I can’t move, remember?” the old curmudgeon grumbled from his seat by the fireplace.

“These are perfect,” announced the taller man wearing a jaunty scarf, as he placed each hand on the two rocking chairs. “They are the essence of this place. Kay, sketch them in situ, and then add them to the truck. I’m going out to look for the perfect piece of nature.”

And in moments, their chairs were gone. George cursed. He never cared about art.

Word count: 199