FFfAW: The Touch of his Hand

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The Touch of his Hand

“Are you coming, my dear?”

Millie looked up at the sound of his voice. Tommy stood in the doorway, his hand outstretched, waiting for hers to join it.

She still remembered the first time their hands had touched, all those years ago. She’d shyly slid her fingers into his as they’d walked into the picture house – barely believing the handsome boy had chosen her. He’d squeezed her hand and given a flirtatious wink, setting her heart aflutter. That had been their first date. Many more had soon followed.

The touch of his hand had swiftly become the most important thing in her life: his caress set her senses alight; his support carried her through the hardest days. When his long fingers had slid the ring, the symbol of their devotion, onto her own, she’d known she was complete.

His death had left her adrift.

She’d simply marked time the since his passing, knowing she’d see him again soon.

“Of course,” she said, rising to her feet. Without any hesitation, she slid her fingers into his.

Word count: 175

To read the other entries, or to submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by Artycaptures.

In remembrance of my grandparents, Millie and Tommy – gone but never forgotten.

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FFfAW: A Mother’s Grief

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Photo prompt © Jade M. Wong

A Mother’s Grief

“We didn’t do anything to it, Ma,” Aeliene said, a waiver in her voice that broke Shylie’s heart all over again. “We were just playing. It came out of nowhere and attacked us. Baen tried to stop it, but, he… he fell… and… and…”

Shylie gathered her daughter close.

Grief encased her as she beheld the body of her butchered son, leaving her as fragile as eggshells. The slightest movement could cause her to shatter, spilling her emotions out for everyone to see. But beneath the sorrow, anger began to burn.

“Are we going to continue like this?” she demanded, turning to the rest of the tribe, gathered nearby in silent respect. “How many more children must we lose before we do something about these monsters?”

They might be pacifists by nature, but fire smouldered within each and every one of them. Her people spread their wings and gave a mighty roar.

Those puny humans wouldn’t stand a chance. Not now.

For the dragons were going to war.

Word count: 173

To read the other entries, or to  submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by Jade M. Wong. Thank you, Jade!

FFfAW: The Name on the Stone

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Photo prompt © Yarnspinner

The Name on the Stone

Kaeri murmured a prayer and dropped the stone into the urn, calmly meeting the gaze of the priest on the temple steps. He watched her with narrowed eyes, his attention unwavering until she moved out of sight.

She’d performed the ritual every day for years. Each stone had borne the same name, inscribed in uneven script: Hoenn – the man who’d caused her life to disintegrate.

But Jia, goddess of the downtrodden, had yet to deliver her promised vengeance.

Unsurprisingly.

Everyone knew it was the priesthood who judged the guilt of those named, choosing the punishments they deemed suitable. Only a few names were ever offered for the divine Lady’s attention. And no matter what crimes lay at his door, their own high priest would never be included in that number.

Kaeri had grown tired of waiting for her prayers to be answered.

Finally unobserved, she entered the temple and began her hunt, dagger concealed in the folds of her skirt. Soon high priest Hoenn’s blood would coat the blade.

Today she’d claim vengeance for herself.

Word count: 175

To read the other entries or to submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by Yarnspinner. Thank you, Yarnspinner!

FFfAW: Lessons Learned

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Photo prompt © Artycaptures

Lessons Learned

Hunger gnawed, growing increasingly harsh and insistent as hours dragged by. The dish of food remained frustratingly out of reach.

Finn scowled, trying again to rise. This was ridiculous. He didn’t know what she’d done to him, but the old woman was clearly deranged. “If you wish to eat,” she’d said, “use the power of your mind to draw it closer.”

He’d protested such nonsense, but she’d dismissed his objections, claiming he had to have ‘abilities’ to have found her. She’d then rambled about teachers and students before leaving him alone – to starve, it now seemed.

Abilities? He had no abilities! He was just an ordinary bloke unfortunate enough to meet her, and stupid enough to accept her hospitality.

At first he’d tried to leave, but his body had refused his commands. Fear had then overtaken him, gruesome scenarios running through his mind. Finally, defeated, his options depleted, he gave in and humoured her madness. He directed his fear and anger outwards, willing the bowl to move. Emotion overflowed…

The dish smashed to the floor.

Word count: 175

To read the other entries, or to submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s photo prompt was provided by Artycaptures. Thank you, Artycaptures!

 

FFfAW: The Truth in the Tale

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The Truth in the Tale

Jonin enjoyed telling stories. He couldn’t deny it. As a knight of many years’ service he had numerous exploits to share. But there was one thing everyone wanted to know – what really happened after the Battle of Ebden Moor?

There were only a few known facts. He and Mikael had been missing for months, given up for dead, only to reappear, riding double on a mysterious horse that vanished soon after. Beyond that was… open to interpretation.

And shy of truth.

The truth… was that Jonin knew little more than they. He had no idea where he’d been or what he’d done. One moment he’d been upon a battlefield. The next, a fey beast was carrying him and his closest friend home. And several months had passed.

Mikael, annoyingly, had told him little. He’d claimed Jonin had been wounded, though no sign of injury remained. He’d insisted they’d spent the months travelling, but no memories leant credence to his claim. He’d offered no explanation for the horse.

His audiences didn’t need to know that, however…

Word count: 175 words

To read the other entries, or to submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by Dorothy. Thank you, Dorothy.

As you can possibly tell from how late I’m posting this, I struggled a little with this prompt. It was only once I changed the bike to a horse that I had any idea what to write at all. Unfortunately, the ideas then flowed so thick and fast that writing a story in only 175 words became an absolute nightmare! This is the third one I’ve written. The first is over 700 words, the second nearly 600 and not yet finished!

The 700+ story is more or less complete, and tells Mikael’s side of events. I might post it later…

FFfAW: Promises Broken

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Promises Broken

The day had promised so much.

Bright skies and a clear forecast meant their shift at the lifeguard station should have been pleasant – with only the usual idiots and accidents to worry them. The crystalline sea had lapped at the beach as if no dangers lurked in its depths. It was a postcard perfect scene.

But they shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d known to always expect the unexpected.

Perched in their tower, they’d watched the holiday-makers frolic below, chatting idly to pass the time – conversations that fled from memory soon after the words were spoken. Their hands had occasionally touched, sparks flying. After months of unresolved tension, the words had finally been spoken. Tonight would be the night.

Their shift had been nearing its end when the screams began. They hadn’t hesitated before running to help.

Afterwards, only the memory of blood in the water remained, events blurring into an incomprehensible mass. All she knew was they’d gone into the water together. And now she was alone.

But the day had promised so much.

Word count: 175

To read the other stories, or to submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by TJ Paris. Thank you, TJ.

FFfAW: Artistic Representations

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Photo prompt © any1mark66

Artistic Representations

“Will you hold still!”

Pikey scowled. “You try standing still this long and see how well you manage it.” He rolled his shoulders. “How much longer?”

“I’ll be done a lot sooner if you’d just hold still.”

“Fine. Just hurry up, ‘fore I freeze like this forever.”

Squiffle gave him a jaunty grin over the screen behind which he worked. “Great art cannot be rushed.”

“Whatever.”

Several days later – or so it felt – Squiffle finally drew back the screen, revealing his completed artwork with a flourish. “Voila,” he said.

Pikey stared, mouth agape.

“What d’ you think?”

“You’ve made me look like a bloody alien.”

“I have not!”

“Look at the size of them eyes. And my head ain’t that big! All you’d ‘ave to do is paint it green, Squiff.”

Squiffle squinted at his sculpture. “Y’ know, that’s not a bad idea…”

Pikey shook his head in disgust, and stomped away home.

It seemed his mum had been right. An artistic representation would always show his true form – no matter how bad the artist was.

Word count: 175

To read the other entries, or to add your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joys’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. This week’s prompt was provided by any1mark66. Thank you, Mark.

FFfAW: Homecoming

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Photo prompt © Majesticgoldenrose

Homecoming

Something was wrong.

Majif  frowned. He’d spent too long evaluating his enemies’ weaknesses to overlook the lack of guards on the gate. He freed his blades, fearing the worst…

Reality outdid expectation.

Within the walls guards and servants alike sprawled in macabre display: blood drenched and staring; throats slashed open. The attack had occurred so swiftly that few weapons had even been drawn.

Caution shifted into desperation. Only a Shadow Warrior could wreak such havoc. And Calina was within. He hurried though the hallways, dread coiling tighter. 

“Majif…” She breathed his name like a prayer. Relief swamped him.

But euphoria shifted to terror as a shadowed figure appeared at her back and a knife pressed against her throat.

“Please, let her go,” he begged. “She’s innocent…”

“So was my family, but you showed them no mercy.”

The blade swiped. Blood gushed, staining his world red as his beloved crumpled. He didn’t see her killer move, but he felt no urge to fight as cold steel touched his throat, biting deep.

Without Calina, life wasn’t worth living.

Word Count: 175 words

To read the other entries or to submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by Majesticgoldenrose. Thank you for a great prompt!

 

FFfAW: The Search

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Photo Prompt © Pamela S. Canepa

The Search

“They were around here somewhere. I swear!” Tynen scrambled recklessly over the rocks ahead, peering into each nook and cranny with almost feverish intensity.

Velana followed at a slower pace, choosing each footstep carefully as she climbed the craggy slope. “No one’s found any in years, Ty. Admit it – you imagined ’em.”

Her brother glared. “No. They were here.”

“Well they ain’t here now.”

“They are. We just need t’ keep looking.”

Velana rolled her eyes but followed Tynen further up the craggy slope. Grandma had told her to follow the brat, so follow him she would.

“I dunno why you’re so bloody excited, anyway,” she said. “It’s just a mushroom-”

Tynen turned, waving his arms extravagantly as he teetered on the edge of a rock. “But it’s not ‘just ‘a mushroom’, Vel! It’s the most delicious mushroom ever. You’ve never tasted anything like Grandma’s mushroom soup!” He returned to his hunt.

Velana shook her head and stomped in his wake.” Food!” she said in disgust. “Why’s it always about the bloody food?”

Word Count: 175

To read the other entries, or to submit your own, click the little blue frog.

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by Pamela S. Canepa. Thank you, Pamela!

I’ve actually had this written for several days, but I wasn’t sure whether or not to post it. Whilst I like the interplay between the characters (they were very enjoyable to write), I find the story itself just a little ‘blah’. I decided in the end that I may as well post it. I’d love to know what you think.

FFfAW: Waiting for the Returning Tide

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Photo Prompt – © The Storyteller’s Abode

Waiting for the Returning Tide

“Suzy would’ve loved it here,” Janet said, her gaze fixed on the panoply of vessels bobbing idly in their moorings. “She was always fascinated by boats. Do you remember? They filled the bathtub!”

“I remember.”

“She was such a happy child. And that smile was so infectious. But she was always so desperate for adventure.” Janet halted, ‘if-onlys’ running through her mind as she listened to the seagulls cry. She sighed. “I should never have let her learn to sail.”

“I doubt you could have stopped her.”

“I could’ve tried.”

She lapsed into silence. Peter remained, a reassuringly steady presence at her side.

“We should head back,” he finally said. Rising, he offered her a supportive hand. “Visiting hours start again soon.”

“Hmm. We can tell Suzy all about our outing.” She took a last look at the boats before turning away. “Do you think she’ll ever wake up?”

“We can only hope, my dear.” Peter squeezed her hand as they walked back towards the hospital. “Suzy would say that, eventually, every tide has to turn.”

Word Count: 175

To read the other entries, or to submit your own, click the little blue frog:

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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by me. It was taken in St Ives, a seaside town in Cornwall that I visited last year. If you’d like to know more about St Ives, my mum, Millie Thom, wrote a post about the place that you can find here.