writing prompts – Millie Thom

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

This is my second week of taking part in flash fiction writing challenges and I’m finding them quite addictive. (Who am I kidding? They’re totally addictive!) This challenge is Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham. It asks that we write a story of 100 -150 words from the photo and first line prompt -both kindly provided by the host.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my offering, including the given opening sentence:

They finally made their escape.

The four by four slewed to the right as it rounded a tight bend, scouring the muddy bank with a screech of tyres before spluttering to a halt. Jack struggled to restart the engine then hit the throttle. The vehicle lurched forward, just as the beast rounded the bend.

At his side, Tom squinted at their pursuer. ‘Fifteen freakin’ yards and it’ll have us for a Scooby Snack!’

Jack shot him a venomous look. ‘The throttle’s already at its bleedin’ limit! What d’you expect me to do . . . crash the car, good and proper?’

The beast was on their offside now, all evil-eyed and roaring. Jack squeezed the throttle, just as the T-rex hurled itself across the chassis, five yards from the finishing line.

Tom pressed another coin into the slot. ‘Two wins each and your “No Result”,’ he said, smirking. ‘And the last go is mine.’

Word Count: 149