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
In the sodium lit, neon flicking city, electricity hums.
In homes where data downloads and Netflix streams,
everything’s on tap, content feeds.
No more mysteries, no more myths,
fables are unnecessary. All is explained
by an expert, a pundit or an app.
A glorious storm floods the dark skies,
unnoticed a lightning bolt flies.
A switch is tripped. Darkness.
Emergency lights click on, generators kick in,
faces are blue-screen illuminated.
No-one tells stories any more.
From a prompt by Hélène Vaillant of Willow Poetry
https://helenevaillant.com/2019/04/02/11001/
The restaurant was closed the following day and I was leaving that afternoon. What potent ingredient had been in the aperitif which caused the world to change before my eyes?
A seemingly innocuous ruby concoction which rendered people’s reflections invisible and gave me a voracious appetite for the steak tartare.
50 word story written in response to Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith‘s Genre Writing Challenge. I’m not quite sure that I pulled it off, but it’s just a bit of fun!
Based on a strange evening I once had in Seville. I’ll tell you about it sometime.
It was isolated. Very isolated. No one for miles and miles.
That was what she wanted, what she’d planned for.
And what she needed.
The house was almost on an island. Just a rickety wooden bridge led to the lakeside.
Otherwise, just water. She could hear it lapping, gently.
On the rocks below.
She unpacked her things. Not much. Who would need much here, alone?
No-one to please, no-one to dress up for.
No-one to dress for.
Just her, the house and the elements; the water, the sky and the sound of nothing much.
She breathed in the cold air. Threw her arms wide.
She was part of it.
She had all the time she wanted now, for this would be her final journey.
She would simply be swallowed up.
Into the landscape.
He was dressed in an orangutan suit. It must have been itchy as he scratched himself rather a lot. Or perhaps it was part of his act. We thought it was just a prank, but then we discovered he was an undercover insurance agent, tracking a gang of kleptomaniac chimpanzees.
50 word story, written in response to Paula Light‘s Three Things Challenge: PL47
Henry cashed in his dividends and purchased an exclusive package to an upmarket campsite deep in the African bush. He got all the gear, the khaki shirt and pants, the wide-brimmed hat and he was on his way. He knew exactly what was what. He’d read a guide book. Or at least, he’d looked at some of the pictures.
He arrived and was greeted warmly by his hosts. After the briefing, to which he paid limited attention, he decided to go for a walk, all by himself.
Caught short, he squatted by a Khaya tree. As he perched precariously, a long, sinuous tree snake with bright yellow eyes wound its way down the trunk. Clearly offended by what it saw, it opened its jaws and fastened onto Henry’s tender regions.
Henry howled. He jumped up. He ran for the camp, clutching his pants.
But the venom circulated rapidly. It spread throughout his bloodstream into the tissues and the nerves. Henry collapsed in front of his luxury tent.
Later he was flown home in a polished box made from Kanya wood. The irony would, no doubt, have been lost on the hapless Henry.
Written in response to Paula Light’s Three Things Challenge PL45 with a little nod to my own recent close encounter with a boomslang!
And for those of you old enough to remember: enjoy!
Mina comes every year to this ruined church on a windswept cliff, after the sun has set over the bleak moorland.
It might seem a strange place to remember her wedding anniversary, but to Mina and her Sisters it is special, for once they were all the Brides of Dracula.
50 word story, written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s ‘Main March Madness’ No. 31 – Wedding Anniversary.
Dawn approaches. You begin your lonely walk. The one for which you’ve prepared.
Snow crunches as you advance step-after-step towards the Cathedral.
Other figures approach; they have no single purpose like yours.
You have accepted that you are one of the Chosen.
You clear your mind. Your fate is not your own.
You bow your head. You shut out fear.
Step-by-step you advance. Steady.
Your will is not your own.
Over the threshold.
You Commit.
From a prompt by Hélène Vaillant of Willow Poetry
https://helenevaillant.com/2019/03/26/what-do-you-see-march-26-2019/
Is it the end of the beginning or the beginning of the end? The Nameless Civil Servant asks himself as he lifts his head above the parapet and surveys the monumental mess before him.
He, the Great Man of Words, the Top Negotiator, the One who Won.
He had been. Once.
Years of precepts and precedents, chalked up challenges and crumbled contrary arguments. But now none will do. Now there is no way forward and there will be no winner.
The only way is back, he thinks. He glances back over his shoulder at the long-travelled road, its twists and turns. Maybe, he thinks, maybe.
Could he create a bridge, a bridge from the lobbies of enlightenment which would cross over the wall and into the abyss? To eliminate the wrongdoers and the naysayers.
He shakes his head.
This is a new beginning. Over which he has no control.
And it frightens him.
From a prompt by Hélène Vaillant of Willow Poetry
https://helenevaillant.com/2019/03/19/what-do-you-see-march-19-2019/
which I first saw on Sadje‘s Keep it Alive: What do you see March 19, 2019
Jerry: Repeat after me. There’s nothing under the bed.
Jules: There’s nothing under the bed.
[Pause]
Jules: But there is, I tell you.
Jerry: We looked. We looked again. There’s nothing under the bed.
Jules: Just because you can see them, it doesn’t mean they’re not there.
[Silence]
Jules: I see them all the time. I know they’re there. All over the house. Don’t you ever see, you know, something flash past, out of the corner of your eye?
[Silence]
Jules: Like ghosts maybe?
Jerry: I don’t believe in ghosts.
Jules: Okay. Maybe they’re from another dimension.
[Jerry sighs]
Jules: String theory. There was that article. Or something to do with Dark Matter.
Jerry: You watch too much science fiction.
Jules: That’s science fact.
[Silence]
Jules: Are you asleep, Jerry?
[Silence]
Jules: Jerry?
[Silence]
Jules: Jerry?
[Pause]
Voice: You’re next.
[Silence]
My prompt was The Haunted Wordsmith’s Story Starter Challenge #19
luna's on line 