Super Blue Blood Moon

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The full moon rose above the Earth, twice the size it normally was and red sand coloured. Humans watched in wonder but I stared in horror. The prophesy the warlock hundred and fifty years ago had uttered with his dying breath was coming true!

I glanced at the gold, designer watch on my left wrist, the thin hands were almost at two AM. A long wolf howl rose from the almost silent night. I gripped the balcony railing and lend out. Below me stretched the ever green pine forest, lit by the glow of the super moon. Another howl from a different direction sounded and even though I couldn’t seen them, I knew the werewolf pack were gathering.

I stepped back into my manor house, closing and locking the balcony doors as if they alone could keep out the cursed prophesy. I went to my vast library, where an unseen servant had light the fire and the gas lamps I still loved so much. Pacing, I tried to think of anything that I could change to stop the full force of what was about to happen.

From one of the hidden drawers in my Victorian writing desk, I pulled out a small leather bound and yellow page book. I had to turn the electrical light on to read my tiny feather quill handwriting. The prophesy was written in full;

On the night when the full moon appears twice in the same month and is monstrous in size and blood red in colour, shall all the evil arise. The world will be consumed, mankind will be over thrown and a new age will begin. Darkness will rule over everything and there’ll be no stopping it. 

I closed the book and pressed it between both my palms. The words; no stopping the evil, spun in my head. I couldn’t sit back and watch this happen! It was partly my fault… I sat down heavily on the leather padded chair and slipped the book away. It’s dark secrets would be safely locked again but my own secrets would be harder to put away.

Leaving the comfort of the library, I thought through all the possibilities as I went to the front door. There was only one way to stop the prophesy and that was to gather all the good forces together to fight this evil. Snagging my cloak and whipping it around me, I stepped into the night and became nothing more then a shadow across the lawn.

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Proof Of Heaven

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I don’t know what started it. A feeling or thought, maybe? Then the dreams came followed by the visions and I knew it was real. The angels arrived next, blazing light and whispering. Why had I been chosen? I didn’t know but I knew I had to spread the messages.

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2018/01/30/twittering-tale-69-30-january-2018/ with thanks).

Down Day

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Today is a down day. I don’t feel like doing or thinking anything. I’m just drifting with the hours, wanting to fill them with something but being unable. Nothing matters and nothing is important. Everyone else can get on with everything and I’ll just wait it out here.

Lovers #SundayPhotoFiction

20 Eric Wicklund January 28th 2018

The statue in the garden always caused arguments. Some of the family liked it, the other half hated it but I loved it and the sweet sad story that went alongside.

Great granddad Joe had gotten it made after his wife, Arabella, had died but the cemetery owners wouldn’t let the statue become great grandma’s gravestone. So, he placed it in the garden and had her buried there instead. He then joined her ten years later.

Arabella had been a famous ballerina and Joe saw her perform one night and knew he had to make her his wife. They were married forty years and had eight children but for the last ten years of her life Arabella was wheelchair bound. She had fallen off a horse and broken her back. All she ever wanted to do afterwards was dance again but being unable, Joe would pick her up and dance with her in his arms.

The statue was a tribute to this but also a symbol of true love. Every time I saw it, I was reminded how powerful and pure love could be. It was my hope that one day I’d met a man like great granddad Joe.

 

(Inspired by; https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/01/28/sunday-photo-fiction-january-28th-2018/ with thanks).

Someone Lives There Still #FridayFictioneers

It was hard to imagine that anyone would want to stay in a city destroyed by war but some had no choice. Driving down the once busy roads, framed by pleasant buildings which were now bombed out hollows, I spotted the smaller corner shop where I had spent most of my money as a child. Surprisingly, it was still open! Though the attached home of the owners was ruined.

I slowed and saw people moving passed the windows. They were shopping despite the empty shelves. Life was carrying on as normal.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/01/24/26-january-2018/ with thanks).

Foreboding #ThreeLineTales

three line tales week 104: an abandoned house in the Arctic circle

The abandoned farm house stood on the hill under the starry sky. At first glance it seemed like a welcoming place for a weary traveler but on the second look it really wasn’t. The house creaked and groaned with the trapped souls of the dead.

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2018/01/25/three-line-tales-week-104/ with thanks).

Woodland #writephoto

I watched the rain and the sun through the oak tree’s branches and leaves. There was going to be a rainbow somewhere but I didn’t care to look for it. Wiping the tears from my face, I wonder how this had all happened to me. How could I have misread the signs of his affections? All along he had wanted my younger sister!

The oak’s trunk was damp and rough at my back, I had been ignoring the discomfort but now I eased off the tree. I looked at my muddy shoes and skirts. it would be hard to hide them when I returned. I gazed around the woods but no solutions came to my foggy mind.

I should go back to the house but they were all there celebrating the engagement. How was I ever going to face him again? I couldn’t call him out on it, he would deign it. So, I had to live with this the rest of my life; the man I loved, married to my sister and lost to me forever.

 

(inspired by https://scvincent.com/2018/01/25/thursday-photo-prompt-woodland-writephoto/ with thanks).

Numbered

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Greyson got the hotel room were the murderer had stayed. The supervisor had thought it was funny he’d request that number as everyone else refused to stay in that room. It interested Greyson though, not from a supernatural point but a psychological one. Sitting on the bed, he got all the papers he had gathered about the murderer and her victims. He re-read everything carefully, thinking over the facts and figures. It was a twisted case but being in that room helped him to put everything together. Perhaps, there was hope Greyson could help her now.

The Village #TwitteringTales

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Gunther looked out his window, shaking his head. This was the worse snow fall the mountain village had ever seen. People could barely get out of their homes but worse no one could save them. Gunther eyed his axe in the corner and knew he had to do something.

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2018/01/23/twittering-tales-68-23-january-2018/ with thanks).

Rant #SundayWritingPrompt

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I wasn’t sure what had happened in the kitchen of the abandoned house. It was clear someone had emptied all the cupboards and sent everything tumbling to the floor. Broken plates crunched under my boots, it was unavoidable if I wanted to walk across.

Perhaps, someone was looking for treasure they believed had been hidden here? Maybe it was just mindless destruction of youths?

Whatever had happened I hated it with a passion. Why did people have to destroy everything? I liked things left as they had been, it give a much better picture of the last people here.

(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/01/21/sunday-writing-prompt-238-rant/ with thanks).