Journey's End (1000 Words)

I received confirmation by e-mail today that my short story submitted to 1000words is up on their website, having been accepted by them.  Check it out here, including the photo which prompted the story.  Really nice to know it was appreciated enough to publish.

For those interested, 1000words began as a project in response to photographs published on a Pinterest board, with a number published as a result.  The website remains open to submissions, with flash fiction accepted on an ad hoc basis i.e. as and when accepted.

Hope people enjoy the story!

Wish Fulfilment (Flash! Friday)

Photo Prompt - here.


Wish Fulfilment

The green goddess grants wishes to those she chooses, they say.  Blessing believers visit the legendary garden shrine daily in their droves to test the theory.  They cross her leafy palm with its freefall water flow with coin, hoping her lids will lift and she will smile on them as they kneel in supplication before her torso.  Gaia, too, hopes her namesake will look kindly upon her as she whispers her wanting into the tresses cocked to one side.  Seconds pass, with the queue long behind her.  The frond fingers close upon the offering, empty on the opening; no fall to freedom here.  The coin’s capture brings an intake of breath as the shrubbery shifts then settles, shape now clear to the eye.   The leaves lie longer on the grass, with starker contrast at the crown. 

The green goddess grants wishes to those she chooses, yet chooses freely from those who approach her alike.  Earth has called on her own. 

(160 words)

Comment

Another one for this week's Flash! Friday Vol.25 competition.  Everything stemmed from the idea of the green goddess and developed organically (pun intended) from there...

Dealbreaker (Horror Bites)

Dealbreaker

Grace was nineteen when life changed.  Too young; too little known, the knowing discovered too late.  Her first sighting was amidst swirling wind and water, as she sank deeper into the lake from which she did not think to return.  Eyes blurry, mouth swamped with weed, she could be forgiven for thinking herself mistaken in seeing the bird-like figure with the sizeable wingspan and red reflector eyes.  She thought they revealed her fast approaching ruin but came to beside the water, clothes melded to her body, damp, not dripping.  Time had passed, though she could not say how much.  That was the first time.

The second time, Grace saw white wings in her sleep; woke covered in down she had not felt settle.  Her mind was filled with the image; the recollection of how it felt to face the knife’s point; the blade entering her body.  Her skin was without blemish.  As expected.  The figure facing the assailant had not been her; she knew that, without knowing where the knowing came from.  She sought out the location imprinted in her memory; finding herself drawn to it, again and again.  It needed to be nightfall – the stabbing would happen at dusk.  Grace must be there, though she had no idea how she could help.  The events had played out with her as observer, silent witness.  She did not know if she could turn the tide.

Grace haunted the hotspot, waiting for events to unfold at an indeterminate time.  Drank cups of lukewarm coffee in the café around the corner from the alleyway she could not escape, whether waking or in slumber.  The continuous layers of chitin coating her covers each morning told her so; a daily unneeded reminder, given her fear full dreams; the pierce of her skin.

Night after night she fulfilled her watch; shadows beneath her eyes showing rest disturbed by burden, the groove between her brows now permanently etched into place, until the night to change those coming after.  Camped on the corner, feigning homelessness beneath blankets, as the sky grew dark and the temperature dropped, Grace saw her vision slot into place.  The slender teenager taking a short cut, face hidden beneath swathes of long hair, followed by the mugger to become much more.  She opened her mouth, perhaps to shout to disturb him – them – to call to the girl to run.  The creature, the cryptid, the ten-foot wingspan, was there in the streetlights; called into action, without word or a whisper.  Grace turned as he – it – descended, hiding her eyes from what happened next.  When she turned, it was over.  No sign they had been there.  That was the second time.

The third time, Grace saw scales and dust, pale in colour.  Now, she knew what knowing without knowing could not tell her, without experiencing it first-hand.  She would endure; would survive.  Her saving had its price to pay for – a deal of undying duration.  Until eventually she saw black wings and her service had passed. 

(500 words)

Comment

This was written for the fifth Horror Bite Challenge - for which the word limit was extended to 500 words, giving a bit of scope to expand on ideas produced by the photo prompt.  This is a Mothman demonesque mash up, possibly creating a form of urban legend in the process..

Hear All About It! (Anthology Announcement)

Just a very quick blog entry to mention that my writing group (The Poised Pen) has recently released their third anthology - and for the first time it is available for download on Kindle here.

To quote from the very brief blurb on the site - it's "a showcase of writing including poetry, flash fiction, scripts and short stories to get a flavour of the breadth of talent from our wee little club.  Come on in and take a dip!"

Added to which it's a very modest 99p for 98 pages worth of work.  So, for those who are interested, feel free to take a look! 

Paying A Flying Visit (Flash! Friday)

Letter Boxes, Area 51 Public Domain Photo by Martin Str. (via Flash! Friday)


Paying A Flying Visit

It has taken the Red Planeteers light years to reach the quarter-inch thick bulletproof metal box on its chipped pole – Black Mailbox 80, owner Steve Medlin, with its Master Lock and contradictions.  For a start it’s faded white; for another thing, it’s not used by Medlin, nor anyone else the hundreds who camp around and converge upon it and the Extraterrestrial Highway have ever seen.  The signs towards Rachel with their question marks are there for those in the know, though any activity takes place when they’re not looking.  Suggested sightings are delusional; sometimes placed to mislead and misdirect – misinformation at its best.

They often wish there was a more convenient drop box – somewhere around Deimos or Phobos, as opposed to Route 375.  It would be a sight easier – and cheaper - to sort interplanetary tax liabilities.  Still, if Area 51 showed on planetary positioning systems, perhaps the payment wouldn’t be perennially late.  They always take a wrong turn somehow.

(160 words)

Comment

It's been a little bit since a piece for Flash! Friday featured here.  This is my latest, requiring inclusion of unpaid bill as part of the prompt.  Went slightly tongue in cheek this week, which makes a change from the darker stuff which recent photo prompts generally seem to have been resulting in.  Loads of great entries over at the site for those who care to take a look!

Light A Life (VisDare)

Light A Life

Freya travels the world and carries her world and its occupants with her.  There is no escaping the memories which follow her wherever she goes, whether she tries or no.  Her salve and service to them is her penance; the ritual, now familiar in its repetition.  Where and when she can, she strikes a match; places flame to wick, to watch it burn; black at its centre, amidst the incandescence, so bright it hurts the eye to watch it closely, for too long.  She keeps her silence, in the cool dim of the church, whilst civilisation carries on without her, unheeding, uncaring; unknowing, in those mere moments.  She will catch them up in due course.  There is time enough - and time owes her her time out, every once in a while; such is their unspoken bargain with one another.  She watches as the wax disintegrates; the wick to nothing. 

(150 words)

Comment

Another VisDare piece.  The word prompt this week was "festival".  Guess we'll have to of Freya as having her own private, slightly sombre festival/celebration of times past when she lights her candle to those who have gone before her here...

The Ice Clause (Angry Hourglass)

Photo Prompt courtesy of Ashwin Rao (via The Angry Hourglass "Flash Frenzy"-Round 20)

The Ice Clause

Liv has decided.  She wants rid of him, now – no going, simply gone; the bitter sting of her last words to him and his response, erased from the tip of her tongue, where their sour taste sits still.  She doesn’t want to see or feel the space where he was and should be.  It is what has brought her to Dr Seva, to sit on plastic, in a sparsely furnished room, after a tip off from Sara, who has already been here, courtesy of the guy she previously referred to only as “git features”.  The corners of her mouth raise slightly, at Sara’s “gift” to her.  Certainly, it’s one way of putting it. 

They have explained the procedure to her in minute detail, so she understands what it entails; the hardening of the heart to dull down residual pain and crystallisation in the central nervous system, through to the cerebrum.  It will take time to take fully, although there will be some immediate relief post-treatment.  Liv signs the page in front of her with a flourish after they have explained the benefits and potential side effects; no hesitation, signature transcribed across the “Ice Clause” – a contract like and unlike any other.  Dr Seva describes it as the latest non-invasive technological and medical advancement.

It feels odd to walk the streets after the solution has been injected, knowing it is making its way through her, set towards a gradual spread of indifference.  She feels colder; knows it is not the chill of the slight breeze blowing across her arms; not this time.  She pulls her jacket around her shoulders; feels the warmth for a split second, before the ache sets in again.

The pain creeps through her spinal cord as Liv reaches her apartment door and sees the card tacked upon the door, waiting.  The message is simple.  Mike has written two words only – “I’m sorry”.  Liv rests against the doorframe, as she feels a sting gathering in the corner of her eyes.  She wonders if it is too late for him to try and reverse the process, so they can work towards a thaw, instead of towards freeze and ice.   

(360 words)

Comment

Another "Angry Hourglass" entry.  "Claws" became "clause" - at least in my mind ;)