photo prompt. Priceless Joy

This is the third week of Priceless Joy’s challenge, Flash Fiction for for Aspiring Writers. The challenge asks us to write a piece of fiction from the photo prompt provided in around 100- 150 words. It encourages participants to comment, constructively, on other entries, so supporting each other’s writing. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the link in the title of PJ’s, blog: Beautiful Words. The challenge runs from Wednesday to Wednesday every week.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

and this is my story . . .

The November evening was darkening rapidly as Mary traipsed along the woodland path, weary after hours of cleaning his Lordship’s house. Eerie shadows patterned her way, cast by the rising moon. She knew she had nothing to fear; she’d walked this way home since leaving school last year …

Yet tonight, something caused Mary’s skin to prickle: a snapping twig, perhaps? She pulled her shawl close about her shoulders, the evening chill adding to her unease. Her skirts swept the leaf-strewn path, rustling and crackling beneath her quickened tread.

Large, strong hands suddenly grabbed her, one clamping over her mouth to stifle her screams as she was hustled towards the trees.

Her assailant buried his face in her neck, his amused chuckle unmistakable.

‘Got yer there, dint ah girl?’

Mary turned and clung to Daniel, his silly prank forgiven. Her beloved brother had returned safely from the Great War.

Word Count: 149

If you’d like to view other entries, click here.

This is the second week of Priceless Joy’s challenge, Flash Fiction for for Aspiring Writers. The challenge asks us to write a piece of fiction from the photo prompt provided in around 100- 150 words. It encourages participants to comment, constructively, on other entries, so supporting each other’s writing. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the link in the title of PJ’s, blog: Beautiful Words. The challenge runs from Wednesday to Wednesday every week.

Here is this week’s photo, copyright Dawn Miller . . .

and this is my story . . .

’Deuce.’

David Jameson was sweating now. Two more points to his opponent and he could kiss the Regional Cup goodbye. Already two sets down, David served to save the match …

The ball bounced hard: a perfect ace.

‘Advantage Jameson,’ the umpire droned above the spectators’ gasps. David served again.

Another ace brought further gasps.

‘Game and third set, Jameson.’ The words were music to David’s ears. His smug-faced opponent was older, more experienced – had taken the Cup for as long as David could remember. This year it was his turn. He just needed to stay focused …

After some long rallies, superb lobs and backhand smashes over the next two sets, David emerged victorious.

‘Game, set and match, David Jameson,’ the umpire intoned as David’s opponent leapt the net to congratulate him.

‘Cup’s yours, son,’ Mike Jameson said, pride evident in his eyes. ‘Until next year …’

Word Count: 148

If you’d like to view other entries, click here.