Forging ahead with fictional endeavours: ~ Write a life on a page and hurry not to its grave; abhor not the coming age, for eternal is the next page. ~ Read what you will, I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I do writing.

Posts tagged ‘Picture it and Write’

Runaway

one-tree-hill

This piece has been inspired by the photo prompt.  I have borrowed it from Picture it and Write. After 5 edits I finally got it down to only 5 words over the upper limit. I couldn’t actually bear to cut any more out. I got to the point where I felt I would lose impact rather then improve the story.  As always, please feel free to leave constructive criticism.

The Runaway

Abby huddled into the scavenged blanket. Wet from the rain; it was ice. Abby huffed into her palms, pleased with futile warmth. A discontented glance at her woollen hat informed Abby that tonight would be spent in the shelter. Abby daydreamed of hot showers and warm rooms as the pennies winked mockingly under street lights. Her ‘earnings’ were barely enough for a hot drink…

It was a wretched lifestyle. In a bitter realization Abby knew it wasn’t miserable. Misery was living with Her. Abby choose the freedom of uncertainty over oppressive manipulation; infrequent, random harassment over certain abuse. Unbidden, the memories stirred; smiling faces from before Her time taunting Abby. She imagined her brother, Callum, looming over her. Ah~ now I’m hallucinating. “I found you,” He said. Is he crying? Callum’s strong arms settled around her wet shoulders with her sense of reality. “Come home. Pa is worried.” He was so warm. Abby’s resolve snapped.

Mirror Mirror: Picture It & Write

picwri

My first piece for today is a poem! It’s unusual for me to look at a prompt and produce poetry, though I am not adverse to writing it. This was inspired by today’s Picture It and Write photo prompt, which I have to say is quite a nice piece to work with – I feel like I could manage a few other pieces based on it alone. Any way, here you have ‘Mirror Mirror’, a piece I think quite a few of us will be able to relate to.  I just hope you can see that satirical side of it and not flame me. Please!

Mirror Mirror

Tell no lies

With these eyes

I could be thinner

Mirror Mirror

Tell the truth

I’m no sleuth

But I need no dinner

Mirror Mirror

What’s that upon my cheek

Oh my outlook is so bleak

Surely this is in error

Mirror Mirror

Just another peek

Yersterday’s bubble&squeak

The issue’s becoming clearer

Mirror Mirror

This is not my physique

I can’t survive my own critique

Gym visits you do trigger.

Beautiful nymph: Picture it and Write.

water-mask

This one’s for Picture it and Write hosted by Ermilia.  Beautiful photo owned by Grégoire A Meyer.

Travis was skipping stones in the rapidly fading afternoon light, relishing the peace of the deserted park. The interplay of ripples on the water surface was absorbing. In the approaching twilight crests and peaks formed on the water surface as a figure created of the rippling liquid rose from the pond. Travis stared in bemused wonder as the ethereal female held out a hand invitingly. Without hesitation he took the outstretched hand and walked the water’s surface with her. Enraptured and captured by the aquatic beauty’s embrace, he was unaware of the dissolution of his clothes or the rapidly rising water level. It was not until the icy water filled his lungs that Travis began to panic. He thrashed out, limbs met, not by the solidness of the nymph, but by the causal flow of water. As he blacked out, Travis was met by an icy, mocking smile. When the paramedics rolled up to rescue the skinny dipping teen, the creature was nowhere to be seen.

Light reading: picture it and write

This week’s picture it and write, thanks Ermilia.

“…Platform 9 3/4. Make sure you don’t miss it.”

“Miss what?” His words feel on deaf ears as the faceless giant retreated into the distance. The chaos of the train platform added to his bafflement. Where’d the party go? The crowd go tighter and tighter as he was shoved through what seemed to be an ordinary column. Dylan reeled, finding himself face down in a ditch without warning. When the crushing pressure snapped Dylan awake he could help wishing j.k.rowling had written lighter books.

Gone wild

Image

Here we are with a new Picture it and Write challenge, courtesy of Ermilia

Elaine frolicked in the waves, warm water lapping against bare legs. Off in the distance she spotted the remains of a plane wreak. She gave brief consideration to a scavenge attempt before dismissing the idea as dangerous. Instead she took a leisurely walk around the gorgeous island, nibbling on wild fruit here and there. By evening she had herself a roaring fire and a collection of edibles to keep her satisfied until she whittled herself a spear for fishing. Contrary to the notion that Elaine should be panicking right about now she was enjoying her new-found freedom; attacking survival with a robustness that was unusual for a 9-5 office gal. And as she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, Elaine fell in love with the starry sky yet again.

The next morning she awoke to the violent sounds of a rescue chopper. She glared down the beach at the search team desecrating her island, tearing vegetation left and right in their urgency. That was when Elaine realised she needed a pointy stick. The ‘rescuers’ needed to be taught a lesson.

The crown in the cavern: Picture it and Write.

Image

Flash fiction quicky.  This weeks Picture it and Write challenge, courtesy of ermilia.  Had a little trouble with this one.  Pounding headache may be the cause…

The crown shimmered in the phosphorescent glow of the cavern walls. Interplaying shadows created a eerie halo around the ancient artefact. The dais on which it rested bore the ancient inscriptions of civilisation long lost to tragedy. If the sleet soaked traveller who had wandered into the cavern seeking shelter from the monsoon could read the pictographic lettering he would have fled right there. The crown was soaked in myth and bore a terrible prophecy but of this he was blissfully unaware, drawn in by how pretty the iridescent stones appeared in the dim lighting. The traveller merely saw a trifling curiosity and picked the crown up with an expression of pleased surprise. The new uncle beamed. It would a good toy for his niece.

Time to quit the day job: Picture and Write it challenge

evilmopHere’s a  new Picture it and Write challenge courtesy of Ermilia.  This one ended being very much a self-insert because I could not get the idea of an evil mop out of my head.

Steph stared at the mop. The mop stared back. Steph rubbed her eyes, pushing up her heavy glasses in the process. She was absolutely sure the damn thing had just glared at her. Steph moved a finger so she could peek a the mop. Yep. Sure enough, the mop was glaring at her. Hesitantly, Steph stepped forward into the cluttered cleaning cupboard, hand outstretched to touch the mop; as though touch alone would assure her she was indeed seeing things. However, this turned out to be a grievous mistake as she touched the grimy, damp tendrils of cloth the mop BIT her. It bit her HARD! “Fucken hell!! That hurt!” Steph exclaimed snapping her hand back to suck on her now bleeding finger. “Serves you right! Who gave you permission to touch me?” The evidently possessed mop shouted. Steph blinked in disbelief, standing before the mop in stunned silence. Her thoughts were reeling. I must be more overworked then I thought, she mused in a detached way. Come to think of it, it has been a month non-stop 16 hr days, she thought some more, Maybe I’ve finally cracked from exhaustion. At this point the mop began to growl at Steph in a threatening manner. Maybe I’ll go lie down… Steph thought as she swiftly turned around, locking the cupboard door behind her. I’m going to call in sick….

Getaway: Picture it an Write challenge

Picture it and write challenge courtesy of Ermilia.  This time the picture actually inspired an excerpt of my recent short sci-fi/action story ‘Freedom’, sadly though the actual short story is no where near this stage in the plot yet. 🙂

Zale fell headlong into Payce as the shock waves buffeted the small aircraft. Payce reflexively pushed Zale upright and leapt into the co-pilot seat. Regent had been injured in the blast and was slumped over the controls like a sack of grain. “Check Regent!” Payce shouted, as he struggled to regain control of the craft against the turbulent atmosphere. There were already signs of emergency response crafts arriving at the scene. Pursuit was sure to follow. Zale leant over Regent, checking for a pulse while gentle checking the head wound. “How’s he doing?” Payce asked, the concern in his tone evident despite his unbroken focus on flying their getaway craft. “His pulse is strong, and near as I can tell it’s just a gash, but we better get a medic check him over soon,” Zale responded as he lifted the larger man out of the pilots seat with difficulty. “Oi, careful! I’m going to have do some fancy flying here,” Payce warned, as the screens filled with warning signals.

“All the more reason for me to put him in a harness. Besides, I can’t operate the weapons with his useless arse blocking the controls,” Zale responded as he shouldered the cumbersome frame of their unconscious pilot, dragging him to the passenger bay. Zale hefted Regent’s dead weight into a harness, strapping him in securely before bolting back to the pilots seat to strap himself in. “Can’t this retrofitted piece of junk go any faster?” Payce asked with a frustrated curse. Zale hammered at his controls, deploying a few toys designed to confound the sensors of the crafts behind them. “It was only designed for passenger escort, not quick getaways from armed crafts!” Zale responded in consternation. “That should give us a head start, head for the waste plant; we’ll loose them in the radiation.”

“Got it!” Payce replied, jerking the controls to swiftly alter their destination.

“Hey, Payce…” Zale said thoughtfully as he kept a watchful eye on the screens in front of him. It looked like the patrols had split off in different directions. “Yeah?” Payce asked with a quick glance in Zale’s direction, not once loosening his grip on the controls. Zale bit into his thumbnail, had it been flesh he would have drawn blood. “I’m fairly certain there’s a mole.” Zale turned his attention to Payce, trying gage the younger man’s reaction. The usually friendly features were sombre, and deeply furrowed into a frown. After a pause, Payce raised a finger to his lips in a age old signal for silence. From the hold Zale could hear movement indicating Regent had regained conciousness. Mirroring Payce’s expression, Zale nodded in silent understanding. Trust no one.

Ambrosia: A Picture it & Write Challenge

I was inspired today by a creative writing challenge I found on ermilia.  The challenge is straight forward – look at the purple martini and see what comes to mind.  Here’s what I wrote.

“Here, drink this.  It will make you feel better.”

The words were spoken in a soothing tone that caressed the ears.  Briny sat perched on the edge of her seat.  She looked at the cocktail that had forced into her hand.  It seemed innocent enough.  “I’m sorry, I never much liked the taste of alcohol,” she said with an embarrassed glance at the man opposite her.  He was not bad to look at, she though distractedly.  Tall, well-muscled.  Wavy, brown hair framing features that were slightly roguish.  Under ordinary circumstances she would have allowed herself to lock with those imperious brown eyes all night.  Under normal circumstances she would have died from embarrassment over her loose t-shirt and baggy jeans combo.  But tonight was not the night for mooning over some stranger like a naïve teen or worrying about her dress sense.

Briny leaned forward to place the glass on the marked wooden table that separated them, free hand catching her loose locks of blonde hair as they swung forward almost ending up in the drink.  “Are you sure you are alright?” He asked in that same soft tone.  Briny’s freckled cheeks flushed slightly.  Quickly she nodded, tucking her loose hair behind her right ear in a nervous gesture.  “I’m just really embarrassed, getting caught up in that kind of situation,” she replied, looking at her reflection in the clear glass.  Even in the warped reflection, she could see how red her usually striking blue eyes were from crying.  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said comfortingly, “after all no one expects to run into one’s boyfriend on day he’s supposable working only to find he’s really seeing the wife and kids.”  Briny flinched at his words.  While they were spoken in a soothing manner, there was a distinct under current of accusation in them.  “That’s why I’m embarrassed!! How could I have not known?”  The man smoothly took her hand as she slapped it down on the table.  “That’s just it, isn’t it?  You didn’t know because he didn’t want you to know,” he said, large hand gently grabbing hers, “Actually, you have been quite lucky.  That man, he goes by several different aliases around here.  He works in the bars picking women.  He butters them up, he gets them to love him, and then, well then he starts borrowing money from them.  You may feel like you’ve been cheated but in truth, you’ve been lucky.  He’s left a lot of women like you in debt.”  Briny’s eyes had widened with shock by this point.  She pulled her hand free from his, coving he mouth in speechless horror.  She eventually remembered to breath under his relentless gaze, it felt as though he were willing her to understand with his gaze alone.  “How do you know this?” Briny eventually choked out.  She felt, amongst the horror, shame and grief, a small seed of anger growing.  The man had settled back into his chair with his arms crossed in a relaxed fashion.  “He’s picked up a few of his victims here.  I own the place so I keep an eye out for dangerous factors.  A few of his exes have come in looking for him from time to time.  Always disrupt business but as what the sleaze does isn’t strictly illegal there’s not much I can do.”  The seed of anger had become a roaring fire by this point.  The bastard had been asking for money recently, after all.  She was suddenly fiercely happy she hadn’t given him a single cent.  “Shit,” she swore, biting a thumbnail, “I wish there was some way I could get back at him.”  There was an odd smile on the man’s face.  “I shouldn’t worry if I were you.  To tell you the truth, I‘ve just about had enough of his behaviour myself.  He will be taken care of.  Have a sip; I wasn’t lying when I said it would make you feel better,” he said sardonically.  Briny glanced at the forgotten drink.  Maybe a little inebriation was exactly what she needed after all.  She picked up the glass, raising it to her lips.  “I never got your name,” she paused.  The man was eyeing the cocktail in her hands.

“Vejovis.” He replied simply.  Briny stared at him, glass still pressed to her lips.  Was that a real name?  “Sounds like a stage name,” she said, taking a sip of the sickly liquid.  Vejovis chuckled softly, clearly not the first time he had heard that response.  Briny swayed in her seat.  Quickly she placed the cocktail down.  Must be more tired than I thought, she supposed, rubbing her eyes.  “Sorry, I think I’d better be on my way…” she began to say before keeling over unconscious. Vejovis moved fast, catching Briny before she hit the table head first.  “Time to pick her up,” he called into the back room.  On cue, a large man in a security uniform entered from the office door.  “Shall I take her to the alter room?” he asked expressionlessly.  Vejovis picked up the cocktail with a smile.

“Yes, and be gentle with her.  She is our precious incarnation of Fraus, after all.” The bouncer nodded and gently lifted Briny’s unconscious form.  “I’m not sure I believe she is the goddess of treachery and fraud, Vejovis,” the bouncer stated doubtfully.  Vejovis massaged his neck with his free hand tiredly.  “Fraus always starts out as innocent.  She corrupts so easily.  I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve healed her, or gotten revenge for her for that matter,” He replied, watching the contents of the glass as he swirled the drink in his hand.  The bouncer shook his head and moved to leave.  “Don’t go overboard this time,” he warned over his shoulder as he exited the room with the prone woman.  Vejovis sipped the drink thoughtfully, “Did you miss ambrosia, Fraus.  I’m afraid it always hits you like that the first time.  But you really will feel better in the morning; as good as a goddess in fact.” Vejovis drained the last of the ambrosia cocktail and then proceeded to make some calls about a certain conman.

Tag Cloud