Posts Tagged ‘photo’

road

The road wound like a snake over the treetops. A soft wind blew through the leaves. It was a lonely spot, tranquil and serene.

The cars raced in, streaks of red and blue, tires etched black trails into the road, engines roaring and squealing. The trees quivered like frightened children.

Eve’s foot was pressed to the floor; her messy blonde curls were pinned to her forehead with sweat. Her empty holster pressed into her side as she swung her car into another turn.

She saw her pursuer leaning out through the window, firing a handgun whilst keeping her other hand on the steering wheel. Black hair trailed over a scar and piercing eyes.

A bullet struck the body of Eve’s car, a black mark ripping through the paintwork. Eve knew that it could easily have hit the tires or the engine – or the back of her head.

The cars raced out of sight just as swiftly as they’d entered, passing beyond the line of trees and the curve of the road. The roars of their engines faded into the distance and it seemed as if every tree breathed a sigh of relief as all became silent and tranquil once more.


Word Count: 200

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

photo-20170102154635569

Reddish-brown ledges capped with green growth stretched into the distance. The sky was clear as a painting. He felt the warmth of the sun against his skin. It was like a postcard but could touch and smell it. He’d never felt so alive.

Then the ledge gave way. Gravity latched onto him like a hell-fiend, snaring him in unbreakable bonds. Rock sped past him as the ground far below grew closer and closer. The air hit his face so hard he was surprised he didn’t loose any teeth.

He struck the earth like a watermelon and that was that.

He threw up his arms in frustration as the program faded away.

“I wanted a nice view,” he snapped, “not to smack face-first into a load of rocks. I felt that.”

The program operator shrugged. “It’s a genuine experience. Maybe next time you shouldn’t sit so close to the edge.”


This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Grant-Sud for providing the prompt photo!

This is my response to the photo prompt for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. You can find the original here.

Word Count: 149

The Old Stones

Two weathered stones, older than memory, stood resolute in a field of bright green. No one knew why they had been put there or what their purpose was. They simply were.

One day a wealthy lord who set out to build his fortress in that field.

“Get those rocks out,” he ordered his men. “We can break them down and use them for the walls.”

Though the lord was a fearsome man, no one would obey him. As much as they were afraid of him, they feared the ancient stones more.

“Fine, then!” he said. “I’ll do it myself!”

The moment he laid a finger on the first stone, the earth quaked beneath his feet and the sky grew dark. He didn’t stop, grappling with the mighty rock.

Lightning arced down from the heavens, striking him like a spear to the heart.

No one ever touched the stones again.

This is in response to the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge for this week.

This photo prompt was provided by TJ Paris.

Off the rocky northern shores of Marihad, a stone fortress sat upon a barren, tiny isle. Here in this fortress lived the Keeper of the North.

It was an old title, going back to ancient times, passed down from parent to child. The title was a sacred duty, a solemn vow. All those who called themselves Keepers of the North were sworn to maintain a constant vigilance. Always their eyes were upon the horizon, watching for enemy ships.

The Keeper was an old woman now and she knew the time was coming soon to pass her duty on. But she knew also that as long as she could walk the fortress walls, she would not relinquish her post. She would watch the seas until she could watch no more.