photo prompt – Page 5

Fifteen Minutes Late – Picture it and Write

Published on March 8, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom19 Comments

Picture It and Write is a weekly writing challenge, posted every Sunday by Eliabeth, the author of Ermiliablog. The challenge is to write a piece of fiction or a poem in response to the photo prompt supplied by the host.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

and this is my story . . .

‘You have got the ring …?’

‘You asked me that two minutes ago, Rob, and my answer hasn’t changed since then.’ Adrian grinned at his brother, the jittery bridegroom. ‘What kind of best man would I be if I left it behind?’

Robert tugged at the unfamiliar bow tie at his throat: it seemed to be driving him insane. Adrian knew it was all down to nerves; standing before the altar, all eyes fixed on him. The lad from the Council Estate was marrying into money – big money – and was feeling somewhat overawed …

Adrian glanced behind at the wedding guests. The bride’s family were blatantly snubbing the lesser mortals to their right. Adrian hated their supercilious sneers and wondered how Robert would cope with it all, particularly as Anthea’s parents seriously disapproved of her choice of husband.

‘She’s fifteen minutes late already,’ Robert croaked.

‘Probably changed her mind … run off with the butler …’

The sudden commotion put an end to Adrian’s jest. Anthea’s chief bridesmaid was hurtling down the aisle towards the bride’s parents …

Robert yanked off the ridiculous bow tie as all was revealed, a look of utter relief on his face. Anthea had simply changed her mind and run off with the new chauffeur.

‘Drinks are on me,’ Robert yelled, heading towards his smiling mum and dad.

If you would like to read other entries click on the link here.

Unleashed – Picture it and Write

Published on March 3, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom25 Comments

Here is this week’s photo . . .

and this is my story . . .

The river roared across the unsuspecting land like an unleashed beast: a raging, untamed torrent, devouring all in its path. The mid-March air had lost its penetrating bite, snowmelt in the hills resulting in the river’s angry swell.

Sweating after miles of rapid flight, Culann stared at the frothing water, the stepping stones engulfed by vengeful, swirling eddies. There was no possibility of him going back – nor was there any way of crossing.

He jogged on, following the river upstream, the land gradually rising as he neared the hills. The first sounds of the tracker dogs intent on ripping him to shreds reached him …

Panic surged and he bolted, ignoring the painful stitch in his side. As the gradient steepened the river plunged over a series of rock-strewn rapids, but beyond, the stream narrowed and became shallower, its flow less turbulent. Culann removed his shoes, tucked them under his arm and scrambled down the grassy bank. He waded in, gasping at the water’s glacial embrace, and headed slowly upstream.

Sharp pebbles gashed his bared feet and after only thirty yards he could bear no more. He clambered up the opposite bank, careful to leave no indication on the grassy slope.

Confident that the baying hounds would lose his scent, he embarked on the twenty mile trek to the coast. He just needed to convince the master of an outgoing ship that an extra hand would be useful …

The fat purse stolen from his brutal master sat comfortably at Culann’s belt. It ensured his passage home. And freedom: like that of the unleashed river.

If you would like to read other entries click on the link here.

Folk Tales – Friday Fictioneers

Published on February 28, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom37 Comments

Friday Fictioneers is a flash fiction challenge which asks that we write a story in no more than 100 words from the photo prompt kindly provided by the host, Rochelle Wisoff Fields. To join in with the challenge, or find out more about it, just follow the link on the challenge title above.

Here is this week’s prompt, copyright Dawn Q. Landau . . .

and this is my story . . .

Local folk claimed these woods were enchanted; magical creatures played in their midst. Faye smiled at that. She’d frolicked amongst these trees since she was a child, had playmates aplenty. But could they be considered magical …?

Occasionally, she’d emerge to wave at passing trains but the passengers never seemed to notice her. Perhaps the billowing smoke from the steam engines hid her from view. So she’d drift back amongst the trees … until the next tooting whistle.

The stray dog had become her newest friend. He’d follow her for hours, provided she didn’t flap her wings too hard.

Word Count: 98

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

A Good Makeover – Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers

Published on February 21, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom21 Comments

This is another new challenge for me and it certainly looks to be an interesting one. I think it’s a really brilliant idea of Priceless Joy’s to have a challenge for ‘aspiring’ writers. The challenge involves writing a piece of fiction from the photo prompt provided in around 100- 150 words. It encourages participants to comment (constructively, of course) on other entries, thereby 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 . . .

wpid-photo-20150218105243646 — Photo copyright: Dawn M. Miller

and this is my story . . .

From the opposite side of the road, Nora Wainwright massaged her aching back and surveyed the Bookstore: her destination, as always, at 10.30 a.m. on weekdays. Her friends weren’t due for another hour and she had time to kill.

She considered the store’s new frontage; the façade it presented to the world. At 72, Nora could do with one of those: a good makeover. Nothing too drastic, mind, no surgeon’s knife and complete image change. She’d still look like Nora Wainwright – just as the Bookstore had kept its original, sash-style windows and ornate relief. A new hairdo, some modern clothes and makeup would be nice. She glanced at her well-rounded midriff. She could lose a few pounds, too… Her gaze drifted up to the Bookstore’s second floor, the mouth-watering confectionery in the coffee lounge.

Nora headed across the street, intent on considering makeovers whilst enjoying her first cream bun.

Word Count: 150

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.

It’s A Man Thing – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on February 10, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom26 Comments

It’s Monday again, the day for Barbara Beacham’s excellent flash fiction challenge, Mondays Finish the Story. This asks that we write a piece of fiction in 100-150 words from the photo and first word prompt provided by our host.

If you fancy having a go at this, click on the link above to get the instructions on how to post and follow the link to other entries.

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

Here is this week’s photo . . .

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

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

‘Girls’re useless at fishin’. Fifteen-year old David Mullard sniggered at his sister’s outraged face, touching the toe of his boot to her empty bucket. ‘Tha’s been out ’ere all mornin’ an’ bucket’s nowt init yet.’

Brenda’s smouldering eyes fixed on her puny twin, who’d been annoying her for the past hour. ‘Push off afore I count t’ three, or I’ll smash yer ’ead in!’

David considered the matter, deciding that his brawny sister would have no problem bashing his head to a pulp against the jetty. He backed up a few yards.

‘Wait till a tell yer fancyman ’ow daft y’ look in them fishin’ togs. ’Es waitin’ for yer back at ’ouse.

‘What!’ Brenda shrieked, tossing down her rod. ‘Why dint y’ tell us?’

‘Arh jus’ did,’ David said, grinning as he watched her retreating back. He picked up the expensive rod. ‘Now fer a bit o’ man fishin’.’

Word Count: 150

I’ve attempted a Yorkshire dialect this week, with all it’s dropped letters and old-fashioned sounding words like thee and thou – or abbreviations of them. In speech, some words are just missed out altogether, the meaning of the sentence left to the reader/listener’s powers of deduction (or imagination!).

The dialect contains many words derived from the Norse – a reminder of the time between the 9th and 10th centuries when Yorkshire was a part of the Danelaw, initiated in the late 9th century by Alfred the Great. My very favourite person!

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