Tag: SSS

Back in her cubbyhole

Chris Hall49 Comments

Photo by Louis Paulin on Unsplash

previously

The red-head woman climbed up the rickety stairs to the top level of her tiny flat, as she lugged her big bag which contained all those interesting things, which she had brought from that antique safe in that old almost empty building.

Earlier she still could hardly believe what had happened just by the spooky cemetery around the corner; one of the graves had exploded, as a chasm appeared, for several minutes it was chaos, but then the chasm had closed and the large grave looked just the same as before.

She had been about to go back down from the roof, when she saw the two gargoyles flying away; she felt rather sad to see them go and she wondered if she would see them again, but then she heard one of them shout back to her – see you later!

She shook her head for a moment, but now she was busy again; she had removed everything from her bag and spread them around her bed; there was an old beautiful book, various important documents and nestling in the little box – a ring – she quickly put on her finger, it was set in a lovely ruby, maybe an engagement ring, she’d thought?

She looked at the deeds that were very difficult to read, she scrolled down – French was not her first language – but she could tell that this was something about the old building where the gargoyles stay.

Now there is a thought – do gargoyles read?

next episode

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Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: ENGAGEMENT

Notre-Dame

Chris Hall69 Comments

Photo by KaLisa Veer on Unsplash

previously

The red-head woman ducked down from the roof, it was all very well to watch all this stuff around the cemetery and the two gargoyles were still bickering (she had been thinking about that though, especially of this old building would be razed to the ground) but something more important needed to be done: it was the antique safe – last push more to open it.

But first she needed to drink; she opened her flask and poured, then lifted up her hot cup of coffee, she took several gulps, then it was time to finish that job.

She had tried this several times, turning the lock back and forth, and she was pretty certain it would open this time: turn to the right ‘C’ 4 times, left ‘L’ 3 times, right ‘E’ 2 times, left ‘F’ 1 time, then right to stop; and there it goes, the mechanical combination safe was open!

She grinned for a moment, then dived in; a little later, she created a little dance around the room, then she pocketed several chosen things.

She was about to leave the back entrance of the old building, but she decided to go up onto the roof once more; it was dark again, as the moon was obscured, she peered over the roof where she could hear voices down in the cemetery, but what was happening?

Suddenly, one of the large graves exploded, ash poured out as a deep chasm appeared; fire licked up around the buildings; it was chaos.

next episode

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Di of Pensitivity 101 – Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: CREATE, CHAOS, CHASM

Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: LIFT

Full Moon

Chris Hall48 Comments

Photo by Abdullah Ahmad on Unsplash

previously

‘That can’t be,’ she she thought, ‘two gargoyles moving around on the roof?’ she stared for several minutes, but the gargoyles stood completely still, as she had expected; she clambered over the shallow roof, it was time to get busy – as she went back down the rickety stairs, she was going to pick a lock.

The red-head woman had been all around the old building – twice – where she had been casing the joint; there was not much there anymore, but in the basement there was something useful, it was an antique safe – all she needed was some time and patience: she had done this before.

She had her torch and her picking things; she had been at this for more than an hour, but it’s almost there; suddenly she heard a noise on the roof; a moment later she was taken back with amazement – the two gargoyles were very much alive – and bickering.

We need a new place because the old one would be replaced with a grand and tall building, and that’s no good, but where will we go?’ – ‘I don’t know where and it’s too dark to see,’ but then suddenly the full moon breaks out and all the roofs were almost light here in Montmartre.

The red-head woman could hardly believe it, she stared around wondering what might happen next; it was almost midnight as she looked down to the cemetery – just behind her – bats and owls, and mythical things – very spooky.

next episode

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Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: LIGHT

Gargoyles

Chris Hall55 Comments

© Ayr/Gray

previously

As she said goodbye to Bjorn, and his beautiful car; she had a new piece, and this time it was a digital art, not that she completely understood it, but Bjorn had promised her that her digital art would double her money in a year.

She had gritted her teeth not thinking about the crash landing on the plane last week, particularly since she had to get on another plane so soon, but now she was back in her tiny flat in Montmartre.

The red-head woman was quite solitary, not like she was in the past, back then she was the life and soul when she had been a Raconteuse; but now she drifts around different places, never settling down, although she will always come back to Paris, the problem is she can’t write as she did.

But she still has some fun.

Nearby was a large empty and old building, where she let herself in; she grinned as she quietly climbed up the rickety stairs and over the wide and shallow roof with several tall chimneys.

The sun was going down all around the city – isn’t it beautiful – and yes, there are two gargoyles and they are coming alive.

next episode

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Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.

Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: DOUBLE

Road Trip

Chris Hall42 Comments

Photo by Ken Cheung on Unsplash

previously

The red-headed writer had never met this guy until just now, although they had been friends for several years, as they had been doing posts in the ether (or at least in a phone or laptop); there had lost touch for a while doing other things, but it didn’t matter now as there were both grinning.

For a couple of hours they talked and joked, what a beautiful place, she said, several times, as Bjorn laughed just like a bear; he drove long and hard on the plateaus and in the valleys, but then he turned off to a small location, almost right by the sea: ‘there’s my spot, he said.

They sat down in the warm and cozy house – there was toast and sardines with whisky – as they looked out on the wilderness.

Then it was 10.30 pm and it’s dark and she’s tired now; meanwhile, Bjorn was doing strange things in his computer, ‘bits’ and ‘bots’ and ‘non-fungible tokens’ – of which she knew nothing and she smiled as she went to bed, wrapped up next to her huge big bag.

She woke up and it was almost light; she went out and down to the beach, how many grains of sand are there, could she hold just one in her hand? and then it happened…

Suddenly, a green smudge of light materialised as the magical spectacle began; it skipped across the darkness of space, while the shimmering liquid flames danced around the sky: it was the aurora borealis.

next episode

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Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: GRAIN

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Flight 45

Chris Hall59 Comments

https://unsplash.com/@usgs

previously

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, had been staying in her bolt hole place, a tiny flat right up on the rickety stairs, in Montmartre, near the cemetery; a useful place where she’d already sold her little picture for her tidy profit, just a week ago.

Now it was time to go, she grabbed her important things in her big bag; all she would need was some new warm clothes, buying them from a small boutique shop.

Soon she was making her way to the train, taking her to Charles de Gaulle airport, where she had been many times; she also liked to move around from place to place, often in different continents, but she’d never been to Iceland, it would be the coldest place she’d ever been.

After the usual performance to get in the plane and take off, including keeping her eyes shut for a couple of minutes, everything was fine; now she was quite happy to enjoy her gin and tonic, and look forward to seeing some of her friends from the Cafe, although what there were all doing was a mystery to her for the moment.

About three hours later, she’d been reading most of the time, but now there was a great deal of turbulence, as she put everything away and buckled up her seat belt tightly; she looked out from the window, and suddenly a huge plume of fire burst out from the volcano as it erupted.

‘Brace, brace, brace,’ yelled the captain.

next episode

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Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: TONIC


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Cape Storm

Chris Hall57 Comments

It moaned and raged across the south coast, right up to the highest mountains.

The storm lashed and buffeted the tallest trees, traumatising animals and people living in their shacks.

The birds, shaking with fear, crept in the hollows and bushes, while the squirrels hunkered down in the deep dreys as the huge palm tree swayed around our garden.

From morning to night the storm raged, and raged again; we looked out into the street where the fire and rescue truck had managed to take down a broken great tree, what a relief, but not before we saw terror in the faces of several people

And finally, in the morning, there was no wind or rain.

At least we all have our houses – the walls, the doors, the windows and the roofs – but everything else is such a mess, and we will only talk about the present at the moment.

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Di of Pensitivity 101
Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: TRAUMA, FEAR, TERROR

Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: PRESENT


By the way, this was all true and it was just two weeks ago.

Plugging a Plot Hole (Tales from the SSC&B)

Chris Hall83 Comments
An image of a painting of 'The Demeter' which hangs on the wall of the Manager's office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*
A painting of ‘The Demeter’ which hangs on the wall of the Manager’s office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*

The sound of a small explosion emanated from the Manager’s office, rattling the door and causing the lettering to peel a tiny bit more from its glazed panel.

The Bartender and the Supplier had been busy arranging the new stock on the mirror-backed shelves behind the bar, while Mimi, and her spatula-wielding assistant, Tom had been in the newly-refurbished kitchen preparing for Saturday night’s crowd.

They arrived at the office door together, Tom entered first, his eyes sweeping the room: the Raconteuse, quietly dripping by the fireplace, and the picture of the galleon hanging on the wall behind her.

Tom stepped forward, searching the red-haired writer’s face for an explanation, but none came; he reached behind her, running his finger around the damp picture frame: ‘I believe we have experienced a Dimensional Disturbance,’ he announced, glancing at the Raconteuse, ‘your escape route, might I surmise?’

The other Proprietors looked at Tom uncomprehendingly; Tom grinned, ‘it’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card for a blocked writer,’ he winked at the Raconteuse, ‘a stroke of luck that you introduced the Portal in here as a precaution before going to write yourself back in time.’

‘Luck had nothing to do with it,’ replied the Raconteuse.

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This has been my second offering this week for Denise’s Six Sentence Story Challenge where this week’s prompt word was stroke.

*crafted on Canva by the author from an image on Pinterest

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The Jade Camel #21

Chris Hall60 Comments

Previously

Joey glanced at the carnage he’d left behind; an ominous silence pervaded the blood-spattered hallway.

Raising a hand to acknowledge Gary, Joey took a deep breath to quieten his thumping heart and shot back into the building; he burst into his flat and snatched up his back-pack, stuffing it with a handful of clothes and the small battered box which contained his ‘important stuff’.

Skidding back down the stairs, he paused by Ceridwen’s door; it opened before he could knock, revealing Ceridwen, clutching a bristling Cullen in her arms. Digging into his pocket, Joey pulled out a thick roll of notes and started to peel a few off, but Ceridwen shook her head; Joey was about to speak, but she silenced him with a look and with a nod of her head, gestured for him to leave. Giving Cullen’s head a regretful stroke, Joey fled the scene, only pausing to scoop a small shiny object from the hall floor.

Half an hour later, Ceridwen stepped sedately around the fallen bodies and picked up the pay-phone, wondering how she was going to explain all this to the emergency services; one thing was certain though, she wasn’t going to betray young Joey.

Written in response to two challenges:

Di of Pensitivity 101’s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: SEDATE, QUIETEN, SILENCE
Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: STROKE

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Photo credit: illustration from a book somewhere on my bookshelves which has mysteriously disappeared🐪

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The Perils of the Unplanned Plot (Tales from the SSC&B)

Chris Hall65 Comments
An image of a painting of 'The Demeter' which hangs on the wall of the Manager's office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*
A painting of ‘The Demeter’ which hangs on the wall of the Manager’s office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, realised that something had gone seriously wrong with her plan to write herself back in time to find the key to the mystery of the Gatekeeper’s sudden disappearance and subsequent demise; mostly because she simply hadn’t wanted to believe that he’d gone.

While roaming around the inner reaches of her writer’s mind, jotting down what she’d thought should be her next step, events had overtaken her; apparently the Gatekeeper’s casting off of his mortal coil had merely been an elaborate ruse on the part of the Gatekeeper and his equally-imaginative collaborator, Ford the Supplier.

A clever misdirection – she should have known.

Meanwhile, mention being made of a mysterious coffin had sent her down another stupid rabbit hole, the curse of the ‘brancanneering’ story-teller, and now she was stuck on some god-forsaken beach, up to her ankles in chilly seawater, while a strange Gothic ship loomed on the horizon; a storm was brewing too.

A sudden gust of wind ushered in her own personal downpour, drenching her notebook; she applied her pen to the page, but it refused to mark the soggy paper.

How was she going to write herself out of here now?

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This has been my second offering this week for Denise’s Six Sentence Story Challenge where this week’s prompt word was key.

*crafted on Canva by the author from an image on Pinterest

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Join us at the famous SSC&B for more Six Sentence Stories
~ click on the sign to enter!

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