Shadows #3LineTales

three line tales, week 142: a girl and her puppy at sunset

It plays in my mind still, that afternoon fifty years ago, there was a girl and her dog in the garden playing with a ball under a sunset blood smeared sky.

I wanted to play too but the fence was high and I could only see through a hole, I tried calling out but they ignored me, so I want to the shed, took out a ladder and climb over into her garden.

It was abandoned as was the house, there was no girl, no dog, just the wind in a dead apple tree.

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2018/10/18/three-line-tales-week-142/ with thanks).

 

 

 

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Alarm #FridayFictioneers

The strange white tower stood higher then anything else in town. Whilst it was being built, people stared in wonder then thought if the alarm would truly work.

The mayor held an opening ceremony but that was a flop. Who would want to celebrate the turning on of a machine that was so experimentally? Especially, when there was so much danger in the streets.

Gradually, a month later, people’s minds were beginning to change. It had been weeks since the last reported zombie entering town had been shot. So maybe, the high pitched alarm was keeping them all away after all?

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/10/17/19-october-2018/ with thanks).

Hallomas #TwitteringTales

A war was going on in the office between the Halloween lovers and the Christmas lovers. All the decorations kept getting switched around until one day, everyone around at work and saw that someone who had clearly had enough of the war had created a new combined holiday; Hallomas.

 

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2018/10/16/twittering-tales-106-16-october-2018/ with thanks).

Won’t Be Coming Back #FFftPP

Shoes

He left his shoes on the dock, laughing that he wasn’t a chicken to jump into the freezing autumn lake.

(Inspired by; https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2018/10/09/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2018-week-41/ with thanks.)

Rave #3LineTales

three line tales, week 141: a face covered in neon-coloured splatters

I hadn’t wanted to go in the first place, a neon rave party was sure to be dark, loud and messy, plus they never played my kind of music.

She convinced me though by saying, ‘all the best uni parties happen at the start of the year, you wouldn’t want to miss out on that in your first year!’

Well, I did miss out. I got blind drunk and don’t remember anything other then flashing blue lights which turned out to be an ambulance taking me to hospital, no more parties for me.

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2018/10/11/three-line-tales-week-141/ with thanks).

Drowning #100WW

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I’m drowning under the weight of it all and nothing makes sense. I want to stop and go away. I need to get back to the person I was before and not the one I’m now trapped in.

Everyone wears a mask. It’s easy to hide that way. You pretend to be someone else or fake being happy. Masks though have a tendency to slip off and mine has. Nobody likes what’s underneath, including myself.

What is this crazy voice in my head making me believe all these lies?

It’s killing me but I can’t talk about it because I sound insane.

 

(Inspired by; https://bikurgurl.com/2018/10/10/100-word-wednesday-week-92/ with thanks).

*Writer’s note; this story is part non-fiction and sums up how I feel with my anxiety and depression right now. I’m trying to work through it.

The Witches’ Jail #FridayFictioneers

It was a strange stone building set away from the others at the far end of the court. Lucy walked up to it, leaving the rest of the tour group behind and read the sign; Witches’ Jail. 

Anybody accused or found to be a witch was held here. The jail was built in the 1500’s and was used up until the late 1700’s. 

Lucy glanced around, saw no one was watching and slipped inside the jail. It was cold and dark, musty smelling.

Lucy reached out and found the ghosts of the witches waiting for her.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/10/10/5-october-2018/ with thanks).

 

Bone #WritePhoto

The skull was laying in the trodden down wheat field daring me to pick it up. It looked like the remains of a deer or a cow without the horns, I couldn’t really tell because it wasn’t whole and the jaw was missing. The bone was clean, snowy white and looking out of place in this yellow-brown acre.

‘Just walk away,’ I said aloud and turned my back on the skull, ‘but it looks so good and far better then the fake ones you’ve seen. And wouldn’t it make the perfect table center piece for Halloween dinner? No, you don’t know where it’s been, Bryce!’

I walked back the way I had come, brittle stalks crunching under my boots. The wind blew tassels of my flame red hair and rattled the branches of trees. A crow cawed in the distance and the clogging smell of upturned soil blocked the air.

Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been looking for? A voice in the back of mind that was half my own and half not whispered, it’s right there for the taking, a gift from nature. No one else would give it the admiration and respect it deserves. Go back and get it!

I stopped and spoke aloud, ‘No, No! I just can’t!’

Why? the head voice asked, who would know you’d taken it? No one knows its there. If the farmer finds it he’ll crush it with his tractor or just throw it away. Could you bare that? You should rescue it! Keep it safe!

I pressed my lips together, scrunched up my face and turned back around. I wanted the skull to be gone but it was still laying there, a rectangle of stark white in an yellow nest. That’s how I’d seen it to begin with from up on the ridge of the woods. It was hard to be sure what it was from over there but seeing the murder of crows flapping above had made me believe it was a wounded animal. I couldn’t have walked away from that.

A dog barked sharply, jumping me out of my thoughts. I look around, hoping it was in the woods but no, the dog was in the field with me! It was a big, black and brown beast which was bounding towards me! Giving no more thought, I dashed back to the skull, snatched it up, despite the heaviness of it and raced out of the field like an Olympic gold medal runner.

I scrambled over the lowered barbed wire fence, clutching the skull to my chest. I stumbled but got back up and over the ridge into the trees. I ran through the woods, out of them and over a main road before my burning lungs forced me to stop. Looking wildly around, I saw no sign of the dog, only a startled man who looked to be in his fifties, waiting at a bus stop.

‘You all right, love?’ he called.

I nodded, too breathless to speak.

‘What happened? What you got there?’ he asked, pointing towards the skull.

I glanced down at it, my mind racing and said the first thing that came into my mouth, ‘I’m fine. Jogging with weights, new exercise plan.’

Before he could reply, I turned and walked quickly away, my words echoing stupidly round my head.

I made it home with the skull without meeting anyone else. On my doorstep, meowing his head off was one of my black cats. He stopped and watched me as I approached, seemly startled that I was outside and not inside getting ready to open the door for him.

‘Hi, Spooky. Where you been? I just had an adventure!’

He yowled and weaved around my feet. I let us both in and we headed into the kitchen. I placed the skull in the sink, ran the hot tap and washed my hands. Water splashed on the skull, darkening it. I washed it and realised I would to have research how to clean best.

Spooky jumped up on the counter next to the sink and I held the skull towards him. He took a few sniffs, whiskers twitching.

‘What do you think? isn’t this going to be perfect for Halloween?’

 

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2018/10/11/thursday-photo-prompt-bone-writephoto/ with thanks).

Working Air #TwitteringTales

It was a crazy idea, an office set up outside wouldn’t work! Mr.Cooper believed his team would be more productive without the ‘shackled desk’ atmosphere. It did improve things for awhile but then it rained and nobody wanted to work outside anymore.

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2018/10/09/twittering-tales-105-9-october-2018/ with thanks).

 

Wunderbares Spielhaus #SundayPhotoFiction

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The old carpenter led the village children to the edge of the woods and showed them what he had been building in secret during the spring months.

The little wooden house stood proudly and a bit crooked amongst spindly trees. Inside wooden furniture and soft finishing the carpenter’s wife had made give the place a homely feel. And for a few minutes you could imagine a family of small people living there.

The children laughed, they thanked the old carpenter, ‘danke, danke!’ and rushed off to play.

The carpenter watched them for awhile, sadness growing in his heart then he turned and went home.

His wife was dozing by the fire, a shirt she had been mending sliding off her knees. The carpenter sat down opposite her and she awoke with a start.

‘The kinder like the house,’ he said.

‘Good, I’m glad,’ his wife replied.

A heavy silence fell between them, disturbed only by the fire crackling away. They were each lost in their own thoughts, imagining the children they had never had.

 

(Inspired by; https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/09/29/sunday-photo-fiction-sept-30-2018/ with thanks).