This Terrible Thing Called Hope – #ShortStory #FlashFiction

Enter another world with Carol’s stark and poignant take on the prompt. Enjoy!

Writing and Works

‘There be giants in these parts,’ Gavin muttered, hiking the pack higher onto his shoulder as they trudged through the snow drifts at the bottom of the monument. In front of him Eddie huffed, his breath turning to ice and smoke. As the sun sunk towards the frozen horizon the temperature would continue to fall, and in the fading light Gavin had to squint to see the humped silhouettes of the outpost. There would be traders there they hoped. A chance to refill their supplies before moving deeper into the wastelands.

‘You believe all that, really?’ asked Eddie. ‘Damn Gav, you’re worse than those priests back at the temple, always trying to tell us that we’re only here by the mercy of the gods.’ He scratched his chin and tipped his head back. They were right beneath the right hand of the statue, the lines of its palm a shadowy…

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Spirals of Time #Writephoto

photo by Sue Vincent

I’ve always known I would travel here, to the heathered moors and verdant hills, to wander narrow roadways past stone cottages with views of the cold northern sea. Perhaps it was the Brontes or Hardy who first entranced me with the raw emotion that seems embedded in the very soil, that sweeps through castle ruins and keens across ancient cairns and holy places.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on the pulse of my yearning. But after my accident, I chose to wait no more.

The stone chapel was once part of a larger manor. It’s a quaint place of colored glass and worn reliefs, of strange carvings above its arched doorway. But also a place of layered faiths and archaic mysteries, imbued with ghosts of the past like a spiritual lodestone. I can no more ignore it than deny my heart to beat.

The day wanes, and I worry that the door might be locked. I give the latch a tug, and my fears prove true. Undaunted, I circle the perimeter, looking for another way in. To break in, frankly, though my intentions are harmless overall.

“Can I help you?”

The voice startles me, and I turn, sputtering apologies, only to encounter another shock. The fellow stands so close we nearly bump noses. “I was attempting to find a way in,” I explain, retreating a step.

“I can see that.”

“I’m from the US.”

“Do people from the US normally break into private chapels?”

“No!” My nerves force a laugh. “Not that I’ve heard of anyway. Rarely. I’ve… Well, this will sound strange, but I… It seems so silly really.” A blush pinks my face, and I stick out my hand. “I’m Daphne.”

“William. The guardian.” He takes my hand and bows, kissing it.

“The guardian?” I blink at him, flustered and nervous, but not afraid. He seems a part of this place, bonded to the stones and wildflowers, the crooked graveyard, and the weathered cross at the roof’s peak. I blow out an awkward breath. “What I meant to say is… I think destiny delivered me here, to this exact moment, to this chapel. It’s puzzling, but I feel as though I belong here and always have.”

“And I’ve been expecting you.” He smiles, looking quite noble, and sweeps his palm toward the door.

I laugh at his odd comment, but his kindness puts me at ease. He unlocks the door, and I enter without a sound. The room is tiny, though I hardly notice, my eyes drawn to a tomb illuminated by the sunlight lancing a slender window. “Whose tomb…?” I begin to ask, but William has withdrawn and awaits me in the garden.

The place is silent and still, and yet it’s thick with souls and reeling with the passage of time. I can scarcely breathe as I approach the tomb and gaze upon the sculpture of a knight. He appears asleep, his features tranquil and familiar. William’s face. A red rose, the only color in the gray-washed chapel, lies near his belt, and a white note in a woman’s script, my script, rests at its side.

Wait for me, my loyal knight, and trust my heart,
for through the spirals of time, 
I will return.

My fingers pass through the paper without a flutter. I now know why I have come here. I am home.

**

Thanks to Sue Vincent for the beautiful Thursday #Writephoto prompt. It was hard to resist a little romance. ❤

Frozen in Time ~ #Haibun/Haiku #poetry

A lovely, but chilling, haibun/haiku from Dorinda. Enjoy!

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

Diana, of Myths of the Mirror has a new feature on her blog called, “New Year, New Feature: a Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt.”  Please visit the link to find out more about the challenge, then get to it!


I have set myself down on my mountain to bask in the cold, pure white snow. The full moon is my companion, and I glisten in its light. The daytime sun has been harsh, and I am battered by its heat, thankful for the winter air, to regenerate my soul.  Still, I remain, a part of this vastness, alone, that is, until this particular day. I don’t often get visitors, but today is an exception. A trail of fine men have come to scale my sides and perhaps, even a bit of spelunking. I suppose I could show them I am here, but that would serve no purpose. Instead, I will…

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January’s #WritingPrompt

A beautiful and mournful response to the wintry January prompt from Pensivity. Enjoy.

pensitivity101

A new monthly challenge for 2019 for which I’m signing up.
Full details are here.
https://mythsofthemirror.com/2019/01/01/new-feature-speculative-fiction-writing-prompt/

The chosen Pixabay image is by Stefan Keller

As they had ridden the waves for the last time, his tears had frozen them both.
His loyal companion had perished at his feet, but he would not let her go. Time had cloaked as well as preserved them.
Only from a distance could the truth of the mountain be visible, but those who followed were ignorant and blind, too intent on glory, greed and self satisfaction.
Like ants they came to conquer, chipping away at the multi-millennial past to clutch at an uncertain future. Eventually all would be lost, as if it had never been.

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Little Helpers #flash#writingprompt #shortfiction

And amidst all the dire, dark, and gently reflective pieces, Geoff arrives with a bit of humor. Enjoy!

TanGental

‘I hate this time of year, you know.’

‘I’m not listening, Elvis.’

‘I don’t ask to get picked, Ernie, but I always am.’

‘It’s a privilege, you know. Errol’s never had a turn.’

‘He can take my place, any time.’

‘Don’t be silly. The Missus chooses. You know that.’

‘Yeah, but why is it always the same people? You know it’s true. Eric, Elrond, Edward…’

‘It’s because we’ve good at what we do. And those lads love it. Look, they’re nearly running.’

‘Yeah well. I’d be happier if they left me in jigsaws. I’ve found my niche in jigsaws.’

‘Don’t you get bored, cutting up the same pictures year after year?’

‘Nope. The patterns are always different. Do you know there are two hundred and seventy one million permutations?’

‘You are as boring as everyone says.’

‘Thanks. Maybe if I was more chummy I wouldn’t get this de-icing gig.’

‘You…

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Even mountains mourn…

Thanks so much to Sue Vincent for taking up the January prompt and for her wonderful response. Enjoy!

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Image by Stefan Keller

Long ago, when the world was young, a fire had burned in him, red as hearts’ blood and he had called it love. She had risen beside him, igniting the life within, and their lives had mingled. Deep within his heart, passion flamed and overflowed and from its bright beginnings a land had been brought to birth. A land in which she had been loved and cared for by her children, while he watched over them all in joy and the green earth flourished.

Had he tended them too well? Nurturing their curiosity, encouraging them to explore the nature of a life they believed was their own? Their children had learned new ways and turned away from the old.

Forsaken, they had grown old together. The story of their love was told only as a fairy tale, no more than make-believe. And though their love endured…

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Atonement TN Meets the Ice Dragon

Back to the January prompt and a wintry dream in the world of Atonement, Tennessee. Enjoy the ride.

Teagan's Books

Saturday, January 5, 2018

I had the next episode of Copper, the Alchemist, and the Woman in Trousers ready to post today.  Instead, we’re visiting Atonement, TN.  Why?  Diana Wallace Peach started a new monthly feature at her blog, Myths of the Mirror.  I caved into the temptation to play along. Click the link to learn more. 

Diana issued this lovely image as a prompt. I mistakenly thought she titled it “Ice Dragon” but that was actually the first reply to her prompt… Okay, so I’ve got a lot going on… and I’m blind as a bat too. (eye roll) So, now she has two “Ice Dragon” responses.  My bad.  What’s done is done.

stefan keller ice giant pixabayStefan Keller, Pixabay

I made mine part of my “Atonement, Tennessee” universe.  I’ll leave Ralda Lawton to tell you about it.

***

Shivering uncontrollably, I stiffly swung my legs off the bed.  The floor was…

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