Choices #WritePhoto

a solitary figure on a beach against a wide ocean.

On the shore he wandered, lost in his own thoughts. With his head down, he watched the surf lapping at his boots. The sea would be cold, he knew but still he took his boots and socks off. There was just something irresistible about walking barefoot on the beach.

Socks in his pocket, boots in hand, he carried on walking. The sand was cool and the sea cold, but he liked the feeling in between his toes. He let his thoughts go off again, like the seagulls that took flight when he got too close.

The beach was empty at this time in the morning which was how he always liked it. He could be alone without people staring and trying to ask him questions about what happened to his body. Children called him a monster and parents would quickly drag them away.

I was fighting for this country, he wanted to say, a bomb fell on a house, I tried to save the innocent family trapped inside but the fire was too bad.

Unfortunately, he knew it wouldn’t matter. His words couldn’t change the effects of his actions across his skin. However, out here away from it all, nothing cared. The sand and sea couldn’t judge him, he could just be himself, alone with his thoughts and scars.

 

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2019/06/06/thursday-photo-prompt-choices-writephoto/ with thanks).

 

 

 

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Boat Hole #CCC

They were all dead now.

I toss pebbles into the sea then at the boat. I make a game of trying to get stones through one of the many holes. The smaller the hole, the higher the points.

Boredom and tiredness kick in. I walk away towards the stream for a cooling drink and a wash. I cut down some coconuts, split them open and gnawed on the white insides.

I don’t want to be rescue. Being here’s the safest I’ve felt in a long time. If anybody did find me they wouldn’t understand.

I’m not myself anymore.

 

(Inspired by; https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/2019/06/12/crimsons-creative-challenge-31/ with thanks).

London #WhatPegmanSaw

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London was everything and nothing like I had believed. The city was constantly moving like the Thames river that divided it. There were always lights, smells and noises, it was so easy to get lost.

I tapped my stick on the pavement and held onto Bonny’s guiding harness. My senses told me that my husband Zak was still walking by my side. All around me were other people moving with great hurry and excitement.

I was scared as was natural in an unknown city but also embracing the new experience. Being blind wasn’t going to stop me from seeing London.

 

(Inspired by; https://whatpegmansaw.com/2019/06/08/london-england with thanks).

The Strangest Thing #TMAT

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My fever was high. I could feel myself drifting, the sense of leaving my body.

I landed on a wooden beam, high above a city. I swayed, feeling dizzy. What was going on? There seemed no end to the beam but I couldn’t stop myself from walking.

My foot slipped. I fell passed all the buildings then the ground opened and into the fiery earth’s core I went. Heat blistered my skin, I screamed before coming out the other side into a frozen land.

Ice filled me, shivers racked me and my fever broke.

 

(Inspired by; https://rantingalong.blog/2019/06/06/joelles-tales-first-thursday-of-the-month-tmat120-writing-prompt-for-june-6-2019/ with thanks).

 

Red #CCC

Atilla the tractor 1

The tractor belonged in a museum but Hugh couldn’t part with it. There was something about the old fashioned way he liked. This ‘futuristic’ farming which was now everyday life made him feel so dull.

Technology ruled the land. The robots did all the work from sow to harvest and looking after the animals. Humans were only needed to fix the robots, read the results and eat the food.

Hugh, riding around in the tractor, could just picture a world were there were no humans because the robots had found a way to be without them and that was a very dark future to be facing.

 

(Inspired by; https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/2019/06/05/crimsons-creative-challenge-30/ with thanks).

 

 

Adventures Await

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In imagination he could be anything he wanted; a knight, a dragon, a explore. His childhood world never let him down.

Morning Snuggles

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She felt the dead weight on her feet and wondered what was going on. Sleepily, she turned the duvet and looked down. The rescue dog was sprawled at the end of the bed, snoring away.

She smiled and settled back down, knowing she had done the best thing.

The Blue House #FridayFictioneers

The new owners had done the house up nicely. They had even decided to stick with the blue and white colour scheme. I could smell the fresh paint as I walked by.

Stopping, I looked at the rows of plant pots because these were new. I heard a window opening and turned sharply to leave.

‘Good morning!’ a cheery woman’s voice called. She had bright red hair and huge glasses.

‘Hello,’ I called back.

‘I just love this house and we got it so cheap too!’

‘That’s because it use to be my house and I buried ten people in the cellar.’

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/06/05/28-june-2019/ with thanks).

Reunion #TaleWeaver

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He stood on the beach alone, leaning on his walking sticks and staring out to sea. For the last few days the remembrance and celebration events had been going on and he had been reunited with some old friends. Still, he couldn’t believe it had been seventy-five years since he had first walked across this beach.

He could picture everything still; first light, the cold rough waves of the sea, first against the boats then against his legs as he struggled forward with his company. The heavy weight of his gun and pack. The bundle of nerves in his stomach and the twisting thoughts of what might lay in wait for him.

The sounds of machine guns and other weapons boomed out from the cliff tops creating a noise so deafening, it had never left his ears. He had only just been able to hear the orders to run forward, to take the beach. The sound of friendly fire was even louder then then enemies’ and so close it made him feel terrified.

The first soldiers got shot. The sea foam turned red and bodies bobbed in the water face down. More fell on the beach and were left behind as their pals ran onwards. Victory must be had! There would be time later to help the dead.

More and more men fell, the sea and sand seeming to be their final resting place. Everything turned red with blood, the cries of the dying and wounded came into competition with the gun noises. Bullets zipped this way and that, zinging through the air till the hit something.

He was no longer thinking, just acting on instinct and that’s why he didn’t really remember things. Everything seemed to blur into one. There was a body, there was a fallen gun, there was the sea behind him and the boats now awaiting them. He had seen so much but no words could ever describe it.

He had been nineteen. Just a boy. A boy who had wanted to do his bit to save his country. Make his parents proud and his sweetheart love him more. His teacher had said he should sign up, become a hero. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

He had never felt like a hero. Not even now.

‘The dead are the heroes!’ he had told one news reporter and he had meant it too.

 

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In memory of all those lost on D-Day.

 

(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/06/06/tale-weaver-226-reunion-june-6th/ with thanks).

Three #3LineTales

an old enamel number three sign

For years, I had been having dreams about a house with a three on the door, I would go up the steps and try to open the door but I couldn’t budge it no matter what I tried.

I knew that beyond the door was the answer to a question that I was desperate to discover, though half the time I couldn’t remember what it I was needed to know, it was like sand slipping away.

Would the dream door ever open? Or would the secrets behind it stay sealed forever, never to be in my grasp?

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2019/05/30/three-line-tales-week-174/ with thanks).