Tag Archives: Fiction

Glow – #writephoto

frosty-dawn--glow

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Ouch! Damn…”

I could feel the warm glow on my cheek where the twig had slapped me.  I rubbed it. Was I going to get a welt?

Wiping away that unbidden tear – I was sure it was from the pain of the slap not something else – I continued on my way.

“Damn” was right. In fact, it felt too weak for the turmoil surging through my brain.

I pushed another leafless branch out of my way, but was careful this time that it didn’t slip and smack me as the last one had.

I was going to my little private spot on the ridge. “Private”, though it was the worst kept secret in the village.

Perhaps even worse than my love for Anita. Continue reading

Balefire #writephoto

balefire

Photo by Sue Vincent

The tests had been phased out with the coming of Common Law, but The Church took Robert the Newcomer’s case and prepared a trial by cold water. Some argued that he was freeman so trial by fire would have been more appropriate, but nobody argued that a trial of God’s will was better in this case than using the King’s Justice.  Not only was Robert a relative stranger to the parish, thus called “the Newcomer”, but all agreed that he had behaved in the most peculiar ways. Several witnesses claimed that he had performed black magic.

Unfortunately, the trial by water did not go as planned. Robert immediately sank out of sight, thus proving his innocence, yet when they went to retrieve him before he could drown, he could not be found. Assuming he had drowned, they dredged the water, yet no body was found.  They searched for days, but came up empty handed. An appeal was sent to the archbishop who proclaimed Robert the Newcomer guilty of witchcraft and stated that Satan himself must have retrieved his servant rather than have his guilt proven by floating on the cold waters. Continue reading

Books to This Point…

books-7-16-2019

My time for writing and blogging disappeared half way through the week, but I wanted to do a post.  Hey, why don’t I talk about my books?! So here is a list of books with their blurbs in order of publication:

Seasons of Imagination

Trent P. McDonald’s Seasons of Imagination contains an eclectic mix of stories covering many places, times and even different genre, yet they all hold one thing in common, they are all about people.

Be they silly, serious or speculative, all of the stories are about us.  What makes us tick?  Why do we say the things we do?  Why do we react as we do?

So whether it seems the stories are exploring outer or inner space, in reality they’re always exploring the human space.

Here is an invitation to open the page and come with me to explore the
Seasons of Imagination Continue reading

Within #writephoto

echo-within

Photo by Sue Vincent

I wake and open my eyes.

It is dark, but that is to be expected.

There is nobody around.

That isn’t expected.

No children.  No progeny.  No kin.  Nobody.

It doesn’t feel right.  Something is wrong.

I walk to the entrance and look out across the barren landscape.

I can still see the villages and the fields full of crops, but I know they are gone.  The thin soil could not bare the weight of the plows for too long.  This was no longer Home and people had to purposefully travel to see me.

I sniff the air.

Although what I see seems unchanged for time out of mind, I know everything has changed.  The world is different.  The times are different. Continue reading

Aflame #writephoto

pond-set-055-aflame

Photo by Sue Vincent

It was a hard day.  The hardest.  It was never ending toil, but I had to do, if not for myself, then for them.

The one bright spot is that I didn’t struggle alone.  Silently by my side was my neighbor, the little girl who used to bother me as I did my chores, little no more.  She didn’t have to share this, but there she was.  As, I realized, she always had been.

At the end of the day I looked down at my companion.  Her face glowed in the setting sun.  My heart soared, turned aflame.

“Mary,” I said, “if we survive, will you be my wife?”

The last rays of the day painted her face a bright red.  What was she thinking behind those flaming eyes?

“Of course.”

I took her hand, saying nothing, for nothing needed to be said as we watched the dying embers of the day.

***

Written for Sue Vincent‘s #writephoto challenge.  This weeks challenge, “Aflame”, is here.

Clarity #writephoto

clarity

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Where do you think you’re going?”  Sean’s voice was loud, harsh.

“Away!”

Jan jumped into what she hoped was the local variant of Uber.

“Take me to some far away beach, someplace where I will never be found.  Ever.”

The large man turned to her.  The thought that he looked like some wild Hollywood villain crossed her mind.

He smiled.  It made her skin crawl.

“I know just the place, Ma’am.”

It took 15 minutes for the tiny car to navigate the congested, narrow streets and leave town.

In 20 minutes the constricted, claustrophobic feelings started to dwindle.

After about 40 minutes the car stopped.  There was nothing around.  That worry struck Jan again. Continue reading

Castle #writephoto

castle

Photo by Sue Vincent

“…and on a day, so they say, the Fairy King will leave his castle at Deep Blue and sail off to Evermore.  The legends tell us that whoever reaches the castle first will then become king or queen and rule Fairyland until it is their time to sail the dark sea to Evermore.”

I remember my great-grandmother’s words well, though I was no more than three.   After she made her own journey “to Heaven”, or so my mother told me though I secretly believed she went to “Evermore”, I heard no more about the Fairy King nor his castle at Deep Blue.  Yet, when the clouds towered over the water, full of lightning and thunder, or when the fog rolled in, I could make out the craggy towers exactly where great-grandmother told me the castle should have been.

That was oh so many years ago.  Now I am far older than she was when she made her final journey. Continue reading

The Yearning #writephoto

yearning

Photo by Sue Vincent

Meg crested the small hill and stopped.  A last fragrant breezed wafted up from the ocean as the sun slipped down for the night, causing the sky and water to flame.

Her heart bounded and for a minute she felt like a little girl, full of the desires of youth and pull of the sea and distant lands, the deep unending yearning, the yearning to be someplace, anyplace, else.

She brought herself back to the present and found An watching that same sunset.  She gave a knowing smile and walked over to her granddaughter.

“He’s out there someplace,” she said to the 24-year-old woman.  An didn’t respond.  “Yes, out there beyond the horizon.”

An gave a slight nod.

Meg drew closer to the young woman and watched the last flashes of light play across the water. Continue reading

Transition #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

I dream of open spaces and sunlight.  I dream of freedom. I dream of adventure and romance.

I dream of her.

This transition has not been easy.  I was always a wild one, forever on the move, forever starting a new adventure.  To be locked away with no hope of escape doesn’t suit my nature.

And the cruelty of it all!  Just across that small courtyard that I can glimpse through an opening that I can never pass pass, just there, always in sight but forever out of reach, is where she is.

If only I could see her one last time, catch a glimpse of her smile.  If only I could hear her melodious voice one last time, I’d be content to settle here forever in my personal prison.  But no! She is kept just out of reach.

It was a dark night.  We had a rendezvous and she was late.  Impatient, I went to her abode to find her, to find why she hadn’t met me as promised.  Stupid, yes, but I was young and in love.

I thought I had entered the gatehouse unobserved.  I thought I had been sly.  I thought I had been crafty.  But he had been craftier, that jealous husband. He was waiting as patiently as I was impatient.  He would catch me.

Before I knew he was there, my throat was slit with the same knife that had taken her life.

I dream of open spaces and sunlight.  I dream of freedom.  I dream of adventure and romance.  I dream of her.

Although 300 years have passed, the transition from living to dead, from physical body to ghost, has not been an easy one.

***

Written for Sue Vincent‘s #writephoto challenge.  This weeks challenge, Transition, is here.

Escape

belton-lap-pool

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sitting in front of a lane, watching the water, made the memories flood back.

I was too short for basketball, didn’t have the hand-eye coordination for baseball and hated football.  That made me a zero in school.

But I found the swim team.

I discovered that I was a fish.  I won often, but the kids at school didn’t care.  There were no cheer rallies for the swim team.

It didn’t matter.  When I was in the water, I was free.

The aid lifted my war-wracked and broken body into the pool.

I once more was a fish and free.

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.