Tag Archives: flash fiction

Wishes – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Are you the Wish Master?”

The man in front of Yashri was in the finest silks and covered in the most expensive jewels.  “Yes,” he answered.

“Good, then you will fulfill my wishes,” the jeweled man said.

“I am sorry sir, but there are proper procedures and protocols to go through.”

The jeweled man’s face turned red.  “No!  You will grant my wish now!  Look over there.”  He pointed to a haze on the horizon.  “I have 10,000 soldiers.  If you do not grant my wish, I will send them in to kill all in this village.”

Yashri frowned.  “What is your wish?”

“To conquer the world.” Continue reading

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Arch – #writephoto

arch

Photo by Sue Vincent

No color or chroma reaches my night-dead eye.  The sun sets over the ruined cathedral.  And there is me, awake again, hanging in the middle, with the ghosts of the past on one side and the shadows of the future on the other, dangling between history and destiny, on this arch of time.

The hollow, no longer hallow, walls stretch above me, the marble has been stripped away, revealing broken brick and rubble.

Entering through my secret door, I taste the evening, taste her, taste the world, the world of the everlasting Now.

I walk through the cathedral, once the place of long forgotten saints and archbishops, of king and peasant long turned to dust.  I can still see their faces on the crumbling walls.

How the mighty have fallen, the holy rotted.  Continue reading

Dark – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

With no wizard’s light to guide us, we ran through the darkness.  Occasionally a great leap of fire was reflected on the dark stone, casting an evil red glare across our party, but mostly we moved through a black so deep it seemed a physical force.  On we went, stubbing toes and scuffing hands as we ran in pitch black.

“I see light,” the sharp eyed elf yelled.  “Daylight!”

We ran faster, though us mere mortals could see naught.  I bumped into a man, a common occurrence in this mad dash.  But then something amazing happened.  I could make out his form.  In a few more steps, I too could see the cool blue daylight.  We might make it!

There were guards at the entrance, but they were expecting an attack from the outside, not one from within.  We swept them away without an injury on our part and pushed out into the open. Continue reading

Dusk – #writephoto

sky-1

Photo by Sue Vincent

I hated to do it, but I had to get up and stretch.  After sitting for hours I was getting pretty stiff.  I was afraid, though I knew he’d forgive me if I missed him.  My sister, Martha, gave me a look that was both questioning and understanding.  It had been a very long day.

The sky was just beginning to catch the evening fire as I walked out of the back door.  I went to the edge of the yard, stopped and watched as the sun dipped towards the lake.

I had forgotten how beautiful it was around Mom and Dad’s house.

Memories of my childhood came back.  Playing in the fields just behind my parent’s house.  Swims in the lake.  Hikes in the hills.  I remembered the forts in the woods I made and lazy rainy days watching out of the window.

Dad and I had a major falling out when I was in my early 20s.  It was funny, I couldn’t ever remember exactly what it was about, but the resentments lingered.  As his sunset years approached, I reached out, tentatively at first.  We started to meet over at Martha’s house and last summer he had stayed with me. Continue reading

Rose

mg-rose-stem

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

We entered the house, me in front, followed by Ben, who I knew held the gun.  He couldn’t see my smile.

My partner, Rose, would be out of sight and be able to strike Ben before he knew she was there.

Walking into the kitchen with confidence, I noticed the note.

“Finish the job or I nip this flower in the bud.”

“Rose?” I called out.

“Mr. Ng arrived first,” Ben said.

I turned to him.

“It’s you or her.”  He smiled.  “Partner.”  It wasn’t a nice smile.

I saw the dead flowers as we left and thought of Rose.

— — —

Word count = 100

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

— — Continue reading

Between – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

I had no idea where we were.  Sami, who was our impromptu navigator, said we were someplace southwest of Paris.  We had avoided the big cities.  Actually, we even avoided the villages.  We were afraid we would be sent back, sent back to death.

We had passed through field after field of yellow flowers.  Rasha told us that they were rapeseed.  She is the smartest of us and had been a Uni professor when the University was still in session, before it had been made into a rebel base and bombed.

A little dirt access road ran between two rapeseed fields.  The sun was high and there wasn’t a soul in sight.  We decided to take a break and have lunch.

It was a beautiful place, so full of peace.  I said that I wished we could stop here and live in these fields forever.  Everyone laughed. Continue reading

Partners

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

I stared down the barrel of Ben’s pistol.  Why wasn’t I dead?

“Where is it?” He jabbed with the gun.

So, Ben was double-crossing Mr. Ng.

“It’s in Canada.”

“Canada?  That’s an awfully big country.”

I smiled.  “That’s why you need me.  Partners?”  I held out a hand.

“Partners.”  Ben shook my hand.

I reached for my gun.  “No, you stay unarmed.”  I shrugged.  He needed me.

48 hours later we landed at Mirabel.  We hit the suburbs by midnight.

It was snowing; from sweating to shivering in 2 days.

The house contained my real partner, not the attaché case.

— — —

Word count = 100

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

— —

Note – This is a continuation of last week’s story, On the Run.  Come on Rochelle, why did you have to make it so hard with this choice of photos? ;)

Note 2 – I used to be an Air Traffic Controller and handed planes off to Montreal.  At that time, we called the airport Mirabel.  When I looked it up, the name had changed!  OK, so I still call DCA “National” and will never call it “Reagan”, so I will always call Montreal “Mirabel”…

Sanctuary, Part 2 – #writephoto

sanctuary

Photo by Sue Vincent

I walked slowly through the garden.  It was greatly reduced from the grand, wild place it had been when I was a child.  Most of the whimseys had been removed, but the most important was still in place.

All of the land for miles in all directions had been owned by my father and our ancestors.  From a slight rise I could see the fields and houses through the trees.  Most were owned by the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren of people who had been my father’s servants.  There also many new comers, though most of those lived in town.

It had snowed earlier in the day, leaving a thin, white blanket over the land.  The branches of the trees still had a coating, causing the woods to appear as a magical fairyland of crystal. Continue reading

On the Run

js-brand

PHOTO PROMPT © JS Brand

An unknown town in a little-known country.  It would be safe.

I walked along the quay, heading for the dilapidated hotel.  The rainbow hues of the river were chopped by heavy traffic; the pier’s bustle a conflagration of noise and activity.    At only 9 AM, I was already sweating.

The receptionist didn’t know English, French, or Spanish.  Hard cash, as always, was clearly understood.

I tossed my backpack onto the bed, my .45 Semi-Automatic as well.  I went into the washroom.  Returning, I met Ben, his gun aimed at me.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

— — —

Word count = 100

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

Note: this was continued with Partners  and Rose.  I also started a long version.

Shrine – #writephoto

glaston-ma-day-dianan-117

Photo by Sue Vincent

We were rushed for time and the last thing I wanted to do was visit an old estate.  But I caught a quick glimpse through the hedge of giant manor and something pulled at me.  I had to stop.

“What are you doing?” Vish asked.  She’s our lead singer.

“I want to see if they allow public here.  You know, tours or anything.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

I understood.  We had a once in a lifetime opportunity, six UK concerts.  We rented some equipment and, after our London shows, we rented a “lorry”, though it looked like a small delivery truck to us.  The rest of the guys crammed into the truck and drove to the next gig, but Vish and I wanted to visit some of the great historical sites.  Places that we’d only dreamed about back in the States.  You might not think we’re the cultural type, but I could never pass up an opportunity to visit places that had been made famous by the Stones, The Kinks, The Sex Pistols, The Clash and other heroes.

Manor houses were definitely not on the list. Continue reading