Can you look again?

April 29, 2019 Chris Hall15 Comments

What do you see, Tiger Lily?

I see the moon.
I see the path shining in front of me, illuminated in the bright moonlight.

What else?

Nothing else.

What do you feel, Tiger Lily?

I feel the dampness of the night.
I feel the ground, wet beneath my feet.

What do you hear, Tiger Lily?

I hear waves breaking on a shore far away.
Do I hear you breathing?
Why can’t I see you?

What do you smell, Tiger Lily?

I smell the dampness of the earth.
Nothing else.
Where are you?

What do you taste, Tiger Lily

I taste nothing.
Just emptiness.

What do you remember, Tiger Lily?

I remember when we first met; on a moon-bright night like this.
I remember… everything.

And what do you want, Tiger Lily?

I want you back.

Written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s Daily Prompt 28.04.19

Flight of fancy

April 24, 2019April 24, 2019 Chris Hall11 Comments

I watched a dragonfly today

Blue-bright body, wings of lace

Like a little ‘copter

or a miniature drone.

I watched a dragonfly today

Circle, hover, perch, take flight

Like a tiny bi-plane

or a teensy flying-boat.

I watched a dragonfly today

And this time looked more closely

Admired its engineering

Saw the faerie in the cockpit.

Why can’t we live together?

April 23, 2019 Chris Hall4 Comments

I’d been late leaving school that afternoon. I’d stayed behind because nice Miss Leibrandt had been helping me with my poem.

On the way home I’d been kicking a can along the dirt pathway between the shacks when I heard shouting over on the main road. Then there was the explosion. Flames shot up into the air, all red and angry-looking. Black smoke billowed upwards.

My house was the other way, but I had to see. I peered out from the end of the lane. People were jumping up and down in the street, arms waving angrily. They were chanting.

Flames licked out of the little corner shop. My friend’s shop. Mr Kabongo whose skin was as black as night, who came from another country further up the map of Africa. Mr Kabongo who told me stories about the animals of the forest where he grew up and the people who lived there before the war in his country. Mr Kabongo who gave me sweets when I went to fetch a half-loaf for my mother.

And now his shop was destroyed. I wondered if he was safe. Had he run, as he’d run before?

Why can’t we all live together?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clbqKFM5oQY

No Pressure, Writer!

April 16, 2019 Chris Hall12 Comments

genre writing challenge lunasonline No Pressure Writer by chris hall

I watch the time countdown on my screen. My shift is about to start. I run my fingers over the keyboard. I’m ready.

The workload has been increasing. So far I’m keeping up. The monitoring is continual. From the moment you are woken until the lights and screens are turned off: when to shower, when to eat, when to take a break.

It’s all about production, efficiency, the bottom line.

Clock in, clock off, clock out. Thank you for your contribution.

At least I’m only writing ‘soapies’ to entertain the masses. Imagine the pressure if I was doing something crucial.

100 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Writing Challenge April 16: Technological Horror

Aether Prompt Winner: Chris Hall

April 14, 2019 Chris Hall7 Comments

In case you missed it…
What a nice surprise I had the other day. I love the way Jason has presented my winning piece – as with all his work. Take a look if you haven’t already discovered his dark and humorous little stories!

Aethereal Engineer

Storyteller and Accidental Blogger Chris Hall of luna’s on line grabbed the win for the March 13th Aether Prompt with tendrils of terror and her piece “Cepha’s Revenge”:

Cepha observed the two galleons turn broadside. As greed and hatred erupted into sea-churning canon fire, she flung a tentacle into the pool beside her, summoning the sisterhood.

They came, they writhed, and the sea boiled. They pulled timbers apart with zealous suckers. Masts crashed onto splintering decks. Water gushed in.

For the humans must pay: creatures, so new to old Mother Earth, now plundered her riches and fought over them.

Cepha stirred the pool again.

Coins and trinkets emptied from chests were gathered up by eager tentacles, while sailors sank into the murky depths.

Calm returned.

Congratulations! Now you’re in the running for the 2019 AETHEREAL ENGINEER WRITER SUPPORT PRIZE PACKAGE! How might she, or possibly you, perchance win such fabled…

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The Other Side of the Black Hole

April 10, 2019April 13, 2019 Chris Hall8 Comments

Everyone fled for the old, deserted places; to the caves, the ruins and the ancient abandoned settlements. The cities had long gone; collapsed in on themselves. All modern infrastructure wiped out.

No-one understood why, but there was no longer anyone to ask or to explain. The politicians, the scientists and the specialists had long retreated into their state-of-the-art doomsday bunkers. Much good would it have done them. All technology had fried when the black hole came into view.

The inevitable came, although it took months. Quite a number of us survived. There had been long enough to prepare. But then the time came. The skies grew dark. There were flashing lights, the rushing of wind, a strange hollow feeling that seemed to gnaw on the soul.

When it was all over, we awoke to a bright new dawn. We opened our eyes, felt our limbs, went outside and looked at each other. Then we noticed. Everything was reversed like in a mirror. Our hearts were beating on the other side of our chests. It took a little getting used to.

We carried on, improvised. Crops grew. The water in our wells was sweet. Everyone felt good, younger by the day. We were more vigorous, more robust, we were quicker and stronger. And then we realised. We were actually getting younger, day by day. And the process was speeding up. What would become of us as we hastened to youth, to childhood and earlier?

Where were you before you were born?

Don’t have nightmares, it’s a long, long way off:
https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-47873592

The Rain Forest Revolts

April 9, 2019 Chris Hall7 Comments

The Foremost Developer had taken the bait: 100 acres of rain-forest, ripe for replanting with oil palms. He rubbed his hands. His bulldozers were ready. But this time Gaia had been awakened; she too was ready for destruction. This time the earth would revolt. It would not be the last.

50 word story written in response to Teresa, T he Haunted Wordsmith’s Genre Writing Challenge.

Sign Here

April 7, 2019April 7, 2019 Chris Hall17 Comments

– Okay, that’s what I signed, but I didn’t sign up for this.

– What do you mean?

– I signed up to write one post a day, every day, for a month.

– To start with.

– Yes, but…

– Didn’t you read the small print?

– No, well, I just assumed…

– Never assume.

– But…

– It increases in intensity. Exponentially each day. One post a day, two posts a day, four, then eight…

– So today’s Day Seven and it’s 64 posts, then tomorrow it’ll be 128 and the next day 256 and so on.

– Exactly.

– Well, sorry, I can’t. I quit.

– You quit. Okay.

– Thanks.

– You didn’t read the penalty clause then?

– No… What? Oh no!

– So what’s it going to be?

– Okay. I’ll do it.

– Sign here.

From Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith‘s Story Starter Challenge #6 – 1 day late, blame the time zone.

With best wishes to Camp-NaNoWriMo’s and NoPoWriMo’s everywhere!

The Fall of ‘The Sparrow’

April 6, 2019April 6, 2019 Chris Hall3 Comments

The Sparrow by Chris Hall lunasonline — Source

Small, brown-clad, zip-lining across the city skyline, the bird-like acrobat would alight on the tiniest ledge. Clip on, push off, hurtling through the topmost branches of the urban jungle. But tempted, the bird became a cat, a peeping tom. His wings were clipped and now The Sparrow flies no more.

50 word story, written in response to Paula Light‘s Three Things Challenge: PL51