Crescent Illusions – #writingprompt

pixabay image by Natan Vance

Fabulous worldbuilding and a great hook from Chelsea of Chelsea Ann Owens. Enjoy!

Crescent Illusions

by Chelsea Owens

“Hey! Wait up!” Pal gasped out the request, to no avail. The strange boy turned the edge beyond his view, taking all sight and sound of his movement with his retreating form. Pal leaned over his knees in crouched, deep-breathing pain from the chase. His heavy gasps echoed inside his helmet.

He’d need to keep going, he knew. He only had a few tics until -too late. Before his ground-pointed eyes, everything shifted and morphed. If his headgear were not equipped with anti-vertigo software, Pal would have retched at the twisting, swarming, mixing colors and land forms. He had no idea how the boy he pursued, apparently unencumbered by gear, could continue on through these conditions. How the boy could move so quickly. How the boy even existed, really.

Pal looked up from the sky beneath his feet, noted the re-orientation of his surroundings, and promptly crashed to the surface above him. “Eurgh,” he groaned, feeling the sluggishness and some of the bruising while his suit’s systems kicked in. He rose as it mended; scouted around…

(Continue Reading via Crescent Illusions)

The Solar Eclipse – #writingprompt

pixabay image by Natan Vance

An intriguing story full of questions from Thea at Thea by Me. I hope you enjoy her tale.

The Solar Eclipse

by Thea

I wake up shivering immensely. Still with my eyes closed, I lay my hand over my hearts. They are both beating. A bit vague and uneven, but enough to ensure me I’m still alive. I take a deep breath. The air is cold but clean and pleasant.

I open my eyes. Above me linger stars on a black background, and a faint light dwells from somewhere beyond. Around me are huge buildings, and I realize I am lying on sand. Icy cold sand. Slowly I rise to my feet. My head is pounding.

Scattered around me lies the transporting device. In thousands of pieces as it seems. No wonder I feel like a huge bruise, but a couple more than usual don’t seem like a big issue. After all, being here, where-ever this ”here” is, is a lot better than…
I don’t let that thought go further.

Where am I? How far have I been journeying? My head fills with thousands of questions. It’s obvious, this isn’t my intended destination. I gaze at the stars but can’t recognize any of the constellations. A wave of dizziness passes through me.

A bit feebly, I walk along the street and soon reach the corner. I turn and once again lift my eyes to the sky. A full lunar eclipse, the most fascinating I’ve ever seen, and I can see an entire universe behind. I stay in a maze for a long time.

I need to leave. To find water most of all. But also to find friendly people. This is a huge city, but it’s dead. I realize that. No sounds. No lights. No nothing. The streets are covered with sand and I see dunes that indicate rather fierce storms…

(Continue reading via The Solar Eclipse)


The Chosen #writingprompt

pixabay image by Natan Vance

Dawn’s blog is private so her whole story in response to the March prompt is shared here. I hope you enjoy.

The Chosen

By Dawn 

Today is a special day.

There have been signs for months, though most didn’t hear them, too busy in their daily pursuit of always more.

The bright moon shines her pale white light, but it is dark. Some… thing is blocking her light.

What is it? I’m not sure. If I believe the voices I’ve been hearing, it’s a vessel coming from far away.

It looks like I’m meant to be the recipient of their attempts at communication. My mind feels like a transistor tuning in, weird whistles and crackling fill my head until, finally, I can hear them clearly.

Their voices are a bit robotic, not at all melodic. It’s probably because of the machine they use to communicate. Their language would be too different for me to understand.

The hum of their spaceship is growing louder. Everyone has disappeared into their homes, lights out, as if a curfew had been put into place. No one is prepared to fight off an attack, too afraid to show themselves.

But the voices keep talking to me, coming in clearer now. “The Full Moon is as big as it’s ever been. The day of reckoning has finally arrived. Come to us, little Earthling, we’re trying to save one pair of each species that lives on this planet, before the big flood swallows all living creatures.”

You see, it’s been a while we’ve been warned about this. Two thousand five hundred years ago already, the message was passed onto our ancestors, who wrote it into their Holy Book. A warning that humans had behaved so poorly there would be a big flood, with only a select few being saved, those who had been good and believed the heeding.

Humankind thought it was in the past, a story told to make sense of the world, a legend. But it was really a prophecy. I now understood what the voices meant: Time is eternal, there is no beginning and no end.

Humans kept using and abusing their Eden, greed separating them. They showed no care towards other creatures, human, animal or vegetal. They wanted more, and more still, without realising how climbing higher, taller, stronger, faster than their neighbour, was exactly what all the so-called prophets had tried to warn them about.

The prophets, those wise men and women who wanted to share their universal knowledge, had actually been allies coming from outer space. Their goal was to remind humans we could all live in peace, together, if everyone made sure to keep the balance.

But instead of remembering the message, humans fought about whose prophet was the One and Only. And since they couldn’t agree on that, they then fought to show the world who would become the most powerful, the richest, in an attempt to prove how much more important their God was.

Then, slowly, humans forgot, gain became their only incentive. The environment started to suffer from their deadly race to the summit. New age prophets, scientists, tried to warn again, but the greedy men in power didn’t want to hear reason.

And here we are today. Friendly aliens trying to save all living species before all beings disappear.

With a heavy heart, I amble the deserted streets, walking towards the mothership. I know now that I was chosen to survive and repopulate the planet, once Mother nature has regained her rights, and the environment found a new sort of stability.

And as I walk faster and faster towards my saviours, it all starts to make sense. Is it my mind racing, my own thoughts fitting into place like pieces of a complicated puzzle, or is it the saviours’ voices? It’s too hard to tell any more.

But the answer is simple: who could better adapt to the new life awaiting, than this lone kid sleeping on the rough, abandoned at birth? I’ve had nowhere to hide, no home to call my own.

All these people hiding in their darkened appartments, unsure what this lunar eclipse means… they don’t have what it takes to survive new beginnings.

I, on the other hand, have had to adapt to all sorts of circumstances since I was but a boy. This was the only way to survive then, and it is now a most welcome skill.

The Loner, the invisible child no one looked at, let alone fed or helped, has become the Chosen one.

beyond lines and measures – #writingprompt

pixabay image by Natan Vance

Once again, Kerfe of Method Two Madness creates a prompt-inspired piece of artwork (not shown here) and a poem – an exquisite pantoum. I hope you enjoy.

Beyond Lines and Measures

by Kerfe

The moon pauses, listening–
a painted backdrop bathed in blue,
a song returning to its beginnings–
Is it a permanent fixture or a trick of light?

A painted backdrop bathed in blue,
a tunnel lined with apparitions–
is it a permanent fixture or a trick of light?
The world approaches blackness,

a tunnel lined with apparitions,
lost in the far realms of the spectrum.
The world approaches blackness,
a stillness that eliminates the horizon.

Lost in the far realms of the spectrum,
unseen crows echo across the gap
with a stillness that eliminates the horizon–
is this the voice that calls the dying?…

(Continue Reading via beyond lines and measures)

Veil Removal time: the hidden reality – #writingprompt

pixabay image by Natan Vance

A story of transformation by Ka Malana of Fiesta Estrellas. I hope you enjoy another creative take on the prompt.

Veil Removal time: the hidden reality

by Ka Malana

She looked up at the stars and wondered how they were so luminous and defined while the slicing light of the eclipse pierced above the horizon, setting the landscape with a gnarly blue glow. She had never seen anything like this before, and none of her ephemerides indicated that this could be happening now, or was forecasted to happen.

A lonely, confused boy with heavy ears faced her now, and all she could see was his silhouette. Why wasn’t he looking towards the light, she thought? She felt closed-in-on as a narrowed corridor of light indicated her only direction was forward, or behind.  So much context was missing suddenly that she felt like she was living in a vignette within a vignette inside of someone else’s story. Someone who lived on another planet. But this was her planet. The light was triggering something unique in her skin…

(Continue Reading via Veil Removal time: the hidden reality – Speculative (Flash) Fiction)

Rappaccini’s Moon – #writingprompt

pixabay image by Natan Vance

An artfully crafted story from H.R.R. Gorman at Let Me Tell You The Story Of... I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Rappaccini’s Moon

Glass separated Vanna from the grown-ups as it always had, as it always would.  She placed the flower in a box which sealed shut at the press of a button, then waited while the grown-ups investigated it through their gloves.

“Exquisite,” Dr. Baglioni said.  His eyes, soft and rich brown, looked to Vanna with curious need.  “Where did you find this?”

“Beatrice gave it to me – and she wonders when you’ll believe that she’s real.”

A scowl.  “Beatrice is our moon, where we live.  It can’t give you flowers.  Are you lonely, Vanna?”

“No, but… I got you this flower.  Twelve kilometers that way.”  Vanna pointed south of town.

“That’s mighty far.  Are you sure it’s safe?”

Vanna nodded vigorously.  “It’s an easy walk.  I can wear a tracker if you need me to.”

Dr. Baglioni lifted the flower and examined is pristine, blue petals.  “We’ll prepare for the journey this time – as we would have last time, had you told us your plans.”  He gently replaced the flower on the bottom of the air-tight box and pulled his hands out of the gloves.  “I don’t want you to get hurt out there with none of us knowing where you are.”

Vanna saluted him.  “I won’t let you down!”  She smiled and leaned up against the glass.  “Can I have my supper now?”…

(Continue Reading via Rappaccini’s Moon)

A Strange New World – #writingprompt

pixabay image by Natan Vance

A story from Brad of Writing to Freedom. Brad says this is his first ever story! I’m so honored that the prompt inspired him. Enjoy!

A Strange New World

Walking down the boulevard of what was once our thriving neighborhood, I feel my heart pounding. Each doorway, shadow, and alley represents the chance of an unpleasant encounter of the strange kind. Ever since the shadow walkers arrived, New York hasn’t been the same. We hear whispers of the same thing happening across the country. There is no TV, radio, or internet. Mass communications have long since gone silent.

It happens every full moon. As the moon grows to fullness, the strange shadows emerge. An eerie silence fills the air with dread. Time stops as does my heart. I feel the dark presence, then a shadow walker emerges from the night. It glides down the empty street. I want to run, but I know there is no escape. They melt unto the paths like liquid death, smooth and silent. No sounds, no eyes, just shadows of what once may have been a person taken by the shadows. When the shadow reaches a person, the person vanishes, leaving only a dark hint of a person…

(Continue Reading via A Strange New World)