Posts Tagged ‘3LineTales’

tltweek81

Crackling flames lick at old bricks as she watches her past go up in flames. In the oven, passport, wallet, and paperwork crumble to ash.

She turns away from the blazing heat and walks out into the cold of night, leaving even her name behind her.


This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Cathal Mac an Bheatha for providing the prompt photo!

 

tltweek80

Even after all those years, the Volkswagon gleams like a dragon’s hoard.

“I kept it just the way it was,” she tells him, her fingers brushing against his.

“That was forty years ago,” he replies and pulls his hand back.


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

tltweek79

Beneath earth and concrete, the elder thing slept, dreaming of when it had swept cities aside with a swipe of a tendril and turned jungles to deserts with a glance.

The worshippers had faded away and it had fallen into a deep slumber, deprived of the adoration it needed, the power of belief and passion on sacred ground.

The bat hit the ball, the crowd roared like hungry wolves, and in the dark, the elder thing stretched an ancient and terrible limb.


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

tltweek78

White stairs stretched forever, up and down, repeating floor after floor, glistening and clean.

He had forgotten his forgotten his name, forgotten his story, forgot anything but the stairs.

Sometimes he wondered if this was Hell and what monstrous things he could have done to deserve it.


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

tltweek77

In the lands by the ocean’s edge, they tell that once the jellyfish was a maiden, beautiful as the light dancing on the waters, who had a lover, sworn to fight in the queen’s service.

One day, her lover didn’t return from the war, felled by the barbed arrows of the enemy, and the maiden was so moved to despair that she cast herself from a high cliff into the churning waves.

The fates took mercy upon her and her form was changing, becoming bright and beautiful, drifting in the waters, untroubled by darkness.


This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Pan Da Chuan for providing the prompt photo!

tltweek76

Barefoot, she dances, toes skirting through rainwater.

The trees seem greener, the sky bluer, and the birdsong brighter.

Even in the artificial tennis court, fences and nets like prisons bars, the spirit of the forest reigns.


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

tltweek74

In the dark and silent day, the call goes out.

“Stack the chairs and bar the doors!”

Then they wait in trembling stillness for the footsteps to stop in the halls.


This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Daniel Von Appen for providing the prompt photo!