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…

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.

‘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…

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…

This prompt is in participation of Myths of the Mirror’s writing prompt.

There used to be more of us… The frigid temperature of the North was unforgiving. More than half of our party succumbed to the cold. They fell asleep and never woke up.

There was only nineteen of us now.

We were on a quest to appease the god of the northern hemisphere, Boreas. A heartless god of ice and snow.

His temple could be found at the peak of Mount Frost – a long dead volcano that is frozen all year round.

The priests say that the task was simple enough – take the chest of offerings up into the temple, read the words, offer prayers… that’s it.

The pay was good, so a lot of us adventurers took on the quest.

We have not thought about why so many of us were needed. We have not…