#Shortstory: The Old Man of Snow and The Snow Snake

Another totally different take on the prompt from Marje Mallon. I hope you enjoy her story. 🙂

M J Mallon YA/Paranormal Author


I’ve written a short story in response to Diana’s wonderful prompt on Myths of The Mirror.

Here is the link if you’d like to join in too:


The Old Man of Snow and The Snow Snake

Today, the moon is full and high in the sky and a group of nineteen men travel with brave hearts to the mouth of the Snow Snake Cave.

The wind is biting cold. Each man carries a pack of provisions on his back and thoughts of his loved ones in his heart. They know that this journey might be one to their deaths and yet they trudge on.

At last after many exhausted steps they arrive at the forbidding entrance of the cave. It is no ordinary grotto. This cave is fashioned out of layer upon layer of snow. The mouth of which is an ice sculpture of a snake’s jaw gaping, its eyes furious and…

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A heartbreaking flash story from Carol. Enjoy!


fantasy-2925250_960_7201Image by Stefan Keller

Once he had it all. Love over flowed. His home was filled with joy and laughter. If he listened hard, he heard echos of it.

He made one mistake. And was banished from his world. This world was of ice. A frozen wasteland, burning cold and desolate. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been on this winter planet.

But he remembered who banished him, his wife. The love of his life cast a spell in a moment of a jealous anger.

It was his fault. He strayed from love into the arms of lust. For those moments of stolen pleasure, he lost love forever.

Where is this place? The cold of death clutchess his heart. Yet, he cannot die. It is a living death. Each breath he takes he lives her pain and her sadness.

His heart calls out to hers. She cannot hear him for…

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Ice Mission

I’m a bit late on this reblog, but don’t miss the tale. Nick writes a great story. 🙂


This is a short story inspired by a fantasy picture posted on Diana Wallace Peach’s blog with the aim of encouraging some speculative short fiction. How could I resist?

Lars Svansson was fed up. He pulled his glove and sleeve back to check the time and sighed a cloud into the frosty air. An hour and fifty minutes they’d been trudging through the desolate Norwegian landscape when they could have taken snowmobiles and been, well, wherever they were a damn sight quicker than this. He carried on through the snow.

It was getting colder. He glanced over his shoulder as the sun clambered down from its low shelf and began burrowing into the distant white-shrouded hills. As the last pale golden beam was extinguished, the undulating plain shimmered in a blue, unearthly twilight. Lars looked at the person behind him in the line of men tramping through the snow.


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The Mermaid, a zentangle and tanka

weave into my dreams

watery visions of pearls

even as I drown

let me drift with the fishes

charmed by your silvery tail


Something a little different!

Above is my first zentangle, a drawing I produced while my husband zoned out on Sunday football (borrrring). My effort was inspired by the lovely artist and blogger, Sarah, over at Art Expedition. Her posts are a delight, and I encourage you to visit her… and try a zentangle.

The poem is a tanka, inspired by Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge. We had to use synonyms of Mystery (dream) and Attract (charmed). Colleen’s poetry challenges are huge fun, and she makes it easy to try new forms. Head over for a peek and perhaps give one a try.

Enjoy your creativity!

Winter’s Pilgrims – Flash Fiction

A haunting piece of flash fiction from Sheri. I hope you enjoy it.

Reality With a Twist ~ Books

january 2019 writing prompt

Author D. Wallace Peach issued a Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt challenge for the month of January. There’s still time to participate. Click HERE for more info. Here’s my efforts in response to the photo prompt. I guess it’s speculation on how another person feels and/or the entry to an afterlife…

He shifted between dream and waking, fist jammed against his mouth to ward off the ignominy of drool. The cold pool on his crumpled pillow slapped him conscious.

“Father?” a deep voice droned as the beige room boxed them in.

“Go away,” spit out in reaction, but he couldn’t be certain his voice spoke it. Crotchety throat failed to make his wishes known. Why did they persist in prodding him with questions? His lids squeezed tightly against the bothersome boy.

“Father?” a voice soft as a lily petal caressed him from slumber.

A loud snort startled him in reply, and his…

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No Guts – No Glory – Photo Prompt – January 2019

This one’s a cliff-hanger! Happy Reading!


No Guts – No Glory – Photo Prompt – January 2019



Diana, of Myths of the Mirror, has created a new, monthly photo prompt. We are challenged to write something about it. Find out the details, and join in at the above link. Thanks, Diana!




No Guts – No Glory

The blurb showed up on everyone’s internet connection around the world.

“Hey, Jake, look at this.” Belinda passed her laptop over to him. “What do you think?”

“Probably a scam,” he said.

“But look at what it says. Read it.”

Jake sighed, but read out loud…

No Guts – No Glory

Expedition to find the Man in the Moon

No experience necessary

To enter contest fill out attached form

“Let’s do it,” Belinda said. She was getting excited.

Jake had his doubts, but for a lark, they both filled out the blank spaces and hit…

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ICEMAN – January’s #WritingPrompt

Kelvin’s story has a powerful twist. I hope you enjoy.

Kelvin M. Knight

The following one thousand word story is my response to January’s Photo Prompt challenge over on Diane Wallace-Peach’s excellent blog.

2019-01-03 Iceman by Stefan Keller (D. Wallace-Peach Blog).png



Kelvin M. Knight

This ice in me, this ice in me, how I love this ice in me. It makes me strong. It makes me a survivor. Out here where the desolation and isolation would crush a weaker soul, ice boosts my strength until I feel the spirit of ten men, no, one hundred men, coursing through me. Yet, I am no man, even if I am subconsciously choosing the mightiest of their frail shapes.

There is nothing frail about ice. I revel in its sharpness. I admire its lightness. I cannot get enough of its untamed form: water, dear water, ever-changing, ever on the go, like a tidal wave inside me. One that creates these shapes flowing out of me. One which washes this beast out of…

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