Fruit of the Lonely Tree

There was a tree that grew music.

In spring, it sprouted symphonies. March overtures became triumphant swellings by May. On a mild April day, the melodies shamed the birds to silence.

In summer, the music continued, but it seemed to most that it was dimmer, paler. Not a patch on its earlier stuff, most people said.

In fall, it was nearly bare. A couple crisp, drying notes still clung to the branches. The birds sang over them and they shriveled in silence.

Come winter, there was no music left.

But spring would come again soon enough.

---

Word Count: 96

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Anshu Bhojnagarwala for providing the prompt photo!

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

 

Today’s Bargains

Buy one breathing mask, get one free for a child or family member! Get 20% off your next radiation treatment!

Offers not valid in cities under martial law, territories outside the Protective Zone, or available to any citizen considered “non-desirable.” 

---

This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Artem Bali for providing the prompt photo!

Announcements

First of all, I want to apologize for the lack of activity over the past month. A combination of work, lack of energy, and writer’s block led to the least productive writing month of my life. Hopefully I can get things back on track for the New Year.

Secondly, I’m excited to announce the publication of a short mystery called “The Lazarus Riddle.” You can read it for free on Crimson Streets complete with a brilliant illustration by the talented Tim Soekkha!

“The Lazarus Riddle” by J.A. Prentice, featuring art by Time Soekkha. Riddle me this…How does a self-proclaim messiah get shot point-blank in the chest in front of multiple witnesses, be pronounced dead by the medical examiner, and laid in-state, suddenly get over his death? Is Cavan Bishop really the Messiah resurrected? The woman who shot him swears she shot him “proper”, yet he’s appeared in flesh and blood once again. It was up to PC Tara Connor and the mysterious consultant Victoria Burton to crack the seemingly impossible case. Whatever you think the answer is, you won’t be right.

Thanks to all my incredible followers. Wishing you all an excellent New Year and hoping to have some more content for you soon!

Doctor Who Discussions – Alan Cumming Had Fun and So Did We (The Witchfinders)

Jaden C. Kilmer and J.A. Prentice discuss The Witchfinders!

Doctor Who Discussion – In Which We Debate Politics (Kerblam!)

Jaden C. Kilmer and J.A. Prentice discuss Kerblam! and rumours about the future of Doctor Who.

The Trees at World’s End

Nobody would watch the sheep at World’s End. They knew what happened to those who stood too close to the fence under an unfriendly moon.

But the Chief’s sheep wouldn’t watch themselves. And a Chief without sheep was no chief, not in those days.

When the stranger came looking for a job, it seemed both their problems were solved.

“Just watch them, boy,” the chief said, handing over the shepherd’s crook. “If they’re all there in morning, you can have a silver penny.”

This seemed a fair deal to the stranger, so he walked to the fence at the edge of the woods, where mists swirled about the black skeletons of trees, and stood watch over the sheep.

Around midnight, the woman came from the trees, smiling and laughing, and asked him to dance.

“I would not presume,” the stranger said, “to dance with a woman until I knew her name.”

The woman pleaded, flirted, laughed, but still he wouldn’t step across the fence.

They argued until the sun rose. When its light struck her, the stranger saw that her skin was bark, her hair was moss, and her arms only branches.

The stranger took his penny and left.

---

Word Count: 199

This is for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. Thanks to rogershipp for running the challenge!

 

The Land Between the Mountains

The air was dry and the dust clung to her boots. Only one ridge away, the land between the mountains stretched into the distance: green, silent, empty.

There was nothing alive there. No birds in the sky, no snakes in the grass. Just death.

She checked her pack. All her gear was there, though the water was running low.

As if water was her biggest concern.

Nobody knew what lurked in the land between the mountains. Nobody had ever made it across to the other side to say.

But she’d give it her best shot. The truth was waiting.

---

Word Count: 99

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Jan Wayne Fields for providing the prompt photo!