creative writing – Page 8

Shards – Friday Fictioneers

Published on February 20, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom70 Comments

I seem to be getting later every week with my Friday Fictioneers contribution. I almost left it until tomorrow, but decided against the idea. So, here it is. The challenge is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff Fields and is open to anyone who would like to join in. Just follow the link above for details. The challenge involves writing a story in no more than 100 words from the photo prompt provided by Rochelle.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

crystals — Copyright: Marie Gail Stratford

And this is my story . . .

Sounds of shattering glass disturb my troubled sleep. Silvery-red shards shoot across the confined space, shimmering in the glow from the neon light in the street beyond. Sharp spikes strike my face and arms, piercing my exposed skin. I scream and cover my face as specks of blood pattern my arms.

Not my eyes! Leave me my eyes!

I struggle to understand why I suffer thus, and in the silence, I waken.

The hospital ward is peaceful now. I clutch at the dressings around my eyes and remember…

Shards of shimmering glass shoot out from my shattered windscreen…

Word Count: 100

If you’d like to read other entries just click on the little blue frog below:

A Matter of Preference

Published on February 13, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom51 Comments

It’s time again for the Friday Fictioneers, kindly hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This is a writing challenge which asks that we produce a piece of fiction in 100 words from the photo prompt given. If you’d like to contribute to this challenge, just follow the link through Rochelle’s blog to read the instructions and copy the photo.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

balcony — Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

. . . and this is my story:

Abigail gazed across the lawn, a warm breeze rustling the gold-tipped leaves of the tall magnolia and nurturing her memories…

The veranda heaved with folks cooing over her newly-christened brother. Six-year-old Abigail fled to her room, tears streaming as her jealousy soared. Since Ethan’s birth, Daddy had taken his love away.

‘Where are you, Abigail?’ It was Daddy’s voice, down in the hall. He wanted her again.

‘Daddy!’ she cried, lowering her foot to the top stair…

It was a warm September day in 1886 when they buried her in the peaceful little cemetery.

But Abigail liked it better here.

Word Count: 100

If you’d like to read other entries, click the little blue frog below:

The Fisherman’s Tale

Published on February 11, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom15 Comments

This is my second contribution to Mondays Finish the Story – an excellent flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara W. Beacham. The challenge requires us to write a piece of fiction between 100-150 words from the photo and first line prompt provided by Barbara.

In fact, this was my original effort. Then I had another thought and wrote that out: effort number two. Then, not particularly happy with either of those, I wrote a third! That was the one I published yesterday. Now I’ve had another look at my first story and have decided to give it a go. The second version can stay where it is . . . it’s somewhat ‘darker’.

So, here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story, including the first line prompt:

Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, she patiently waited for something to bite.

It wasn’t often that Molly came fishing, more often than not satisfied just living in this beautiful place. But alone by the lake she could contemplate her life: the lies and deceit – and the fun.

Sometimes, thoughts of those things excited her, made her long for the next time. That insatiable urge would rise in her chest, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. How it amused her.

Tomorrow, hordes of gullible fishermen would start streaming in, all vying to win the prize. She laughed to think how they believed the tale: a fish of such proportions as to warrant the name of ‘monster’!

Her sleek black wetsuit with its mermaid-styled rear waited at her father’s hotel across the lake. She would permit the fools a glimpse of tail – perhaps a dorsal fin; enough to engender a tale, encourage the odd snapshot…

Dad’s hotel had positively boomed this year.

149 words

If you’d just like to view some of the other entries, click the link here.

Labyrinth – Friday Fictioneers

Published on February 6, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom37 Comments

Here is this week’s photo, copyright Melanie Greenwood . . .

. . . and here is my story:

I tumble into a deep, dark place, removed from the laughter and light. I traipse the labyrinth of my mind, engulfed in a maelstrom of questioning thoughts. Yet, like swirling tendrils of shadows along my path, answers reach out to taunt me, then melt away to obscurity.

Why am I lost, alone in the bleakness of night? Will the sun never rise in this covert place? Why has my youthful body deserted me, left me in these serpentine depths?

But wait! A light shines down on this maze: my escape to the world beyond … and reunion with my body.

Word Count: 100

This is a little different to the pieces I’ve been writing recently. I was particularly drawn to that single beam of light in the photo. I almost wrote somethig historical (my favourite genre!) but changed my mind at the last minute. Too late to change things now – I’m about to post!

To read other entries, click on the little blue fellow below:

Holed Up – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on February 4, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom46 Comments

Due to family circumstances I’m a couple of days late with this week’s Mondays Finish the Story. This is a flash fiction writing challenge involving writing a story of 100-150 words from the photo and first line prompt kindly provided by the host, Barbara Beacham.

If you fancy having a go at this yourself, just click on the link above and get typing! Instructions about how to post your story are on the page.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

and this is my story, including the first sentence prompt:

Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River.

‘He’s holed up in that thar’ shack,’ Billy murmured to his brother as they unstrapped the Winchesters from their saddle packs. ‘Almost a month, ol’ Jesse reckons.’

Casey swept his brow with his sleeve, squinting into the blazing sun. ‘Way I see it, we go in and get the varmint now. He’s taken two good men down already – two too many, I say.’

They crept towards the old prospector’s shack. It made an ideal hideout: good hunting in the scrubland and a ready water supply. Billy checked his rifle. ‘We shoot on sight. If Jack’s as wily as we’re told, he’ll be a waitin’ fer us. And we ain’t taking no chances.’

Casey frowned. ‘So why’d Jesse call the varmint Jack?’

‘Reminded him of his Pa, I guess. Real big guy, he said, fast as lightning and a killer bite.

Biggest Diamondback Rattler he’d ever seen.’

Word Count: 147

Picture It and Write – Druid Path

Published on January 31, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom25 Comments

Here is my contribution to this week’s Picture It and Write Challenge. This is a weekly writing challenge, posted every Sunday, by the author of Ermiliablog. The challenge is to write a piece of fiction or a poem in response to the photo prompt given. I’m rather late with this one, as the next one will be out tomorrow!

Here is this week’s photo prompt . . .

…. and here is my piece of fiction:

In the sombre grey light before sunrise, the column of white-clad priests moved along the leaf-strewn path in respectful silence. Behind his father at the head of the train, Gueiridd kept his hooded head bowed, focusing on the swirling mists enveloping his feet. Passing through each elaborately twisted spiral of willow, he feared his tormented screams would erupt. For like the great stone circles of his forbears, the spirals symbolized the all-powerful Sun-god, the source of all beings.

Gueiridd dared not glance behind, could not watch his beloved being dragged to her fate. Her only crime was that of loving him; loving the son of the merciless Arch Druid, Morcar. Once they reached the sacred grove, Brietta would be sacrificed to the Sun-god.

Chanting now, the column streamed through the ring of ancient oaks to a clearing within, slowly circling the granite altar at its centre. As Brietta was laid upon it, the Sun-god rose from the Otherworld, casting golden rays through the sacred grove.

Morcar raised the sacrificial knife…

‘No . . .’ Restraint abandoned, Gueiridd hurled himself at his father. Prepared for this likelihood, two dagger-wielding priests leapt to restrain him. Gueiridd’s howl rang through the grove as Morcar plunged the sacrificial blade deep into Brietta’s chest.

The thought that he would be next came as relief to Gueiridd. He would meet his Brietta in the next life. And the Sun-god would be doubly appeased this day.

Radcliffe Hall

Published on January 30, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom21 Comments

Friday’s the day for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s, Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge. This requires us to produce a piece of writing in no more than 100 words from the photo-prompt provided. Although it’s quite a challenge to write a mini-story in so few words, I really enjoy doing it!

Here’s this week’s photo, provided by Ted Strutz . . .

. . . and here is my offering:

‘Mr. Digby.’ The elderly widow’s arrogant tone cut through the estate agent’s spiel. ‘I’m well aware that the celebrated Radcliffe’s once owned this house – and of the property’s value. I’m also aware of its scandalously high asking price. Undoubtedly you could sell it to someone prepared to overlook its dilapidated state in view of the prestigious address … although it also needs completely rewiring.’

Mr. Digby followed her censorious gaze to the antiquated socket, reconsidering his options. ‘Make me an offer?’

Sarah Drummond née Radcliffe smiled, her eyes sweeping the elegant room. ‘Mummy will soon be home,’ she whispered.

100 words

Click on the blue frog to view other entries.

She-Wolf: Mondays Finish the Story

Published on January 27, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom22 Comments

This is my second story written for this week’s Mondays Finish the Story. This is a flash fiction writing challenge which asks that we write a story of 100-150 words from the photo and writing prompt provided by the host, Barbara Beacham.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my second story, including the writing prompt:

She was unaware that she was being watched.

Jake kept the she-wolf in focus through the rifle’s telescopic lens. She was a beauty, and he hated what he had to do. But she’d been taking his livestock for the past week. At first just the odd chicken, but now she was trying her luck with his calves. She was a loner, he guessed; no nightly howls of a pack. But he’d lay bets she had cubs to feed at this time of year: mid May they’d likely be needing their first meat.

Her eyes fixed on the calf staggering at the edge of the herd, just twenty yards away, the she-wolf sank on her haunches. Jake’s finger curled round the trigger.

The she-wolf leapt forward, her powerful jaws closing round the calf’s neck; sharp canines sinking deep into tender flesh.

Jake watched in admiration as she dragged the carcass into the bushes. Back to her hungry cubs.

Words: 149

El Lobo – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on January 27, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom19 Comments

This is my third week of taking part in the flash fiction writing challenge, Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham. The challenge involves writing a story of 100-150 words from the photo and first line prompt kindly provided by the host.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story, incuding the first line prompt:

She was unaware that she was being watched as she focused on the mail coach careering down the narrow valley. The rockfall would soon be within their sights and the screeching of wheels and whinnying horses would be her cue to move out. She grinned, anticipating the payrolls soon to be hers.

Townsfolk called her El Lobo. The Wolf. She liked that. It amused her that the fools assumed her to be a man. They knew her as Kitty, the pretty, young schoolteacher, all dimples and smiles. She’d honed her skills well over the years, knew exactly how to stalk her prey, target the weakest amongst them. They deserved no better, after all, for hanging her father. The first El Lobo

She adjusted her mask and spurred her restless stallion into motion. Then the shot rang out and she dropped like a felled beast.

The sheriff smiled. El Lobo had been unaware that she was being watched.

Word Count: 149

Friday Fictioneers – Rosie

Published on January 23, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom48 Comments

It’s the day for Rochelle Risoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge. This asks that we produce a piece of writing in 100 words. It’s definitely a challenge to write a story in so few words – but also great fun.

Well, here is this Friday’s photo . . .

boatpilxr_-antiqued — Copyright Georgia Koch

. . . and this is my offering:

The customer moseyed alongside the old barge, eyeing her with disdain. ‘Yer sure this tub still floats?’ He scratched his head, mumbling. ‘It’s nowt but a pile of old junk. ’Ow much?’

‘Had an offer, ‘alf hour ago. Twenty grand.’

The expletives meant little to Archie. He’d rather keep Rosie than sell her to someone like that. A lick of red paint and she’d look good again. Young. They’d sail the Canals and remember the first Rosie, the Gypsy girl he’d loved for so long. She’d still be waiting for him; up there. A year, tops, the doctors said.

Word count: 100