Tag Archives: #writephoto

Beyond What’s Beyond #writephoto

beyond

Photo by Sue Vincent

Jed took the shortcut through the trees.  He had to reach the little village beyond or there would be hell to pay.

“Just my luck,” he muttered as he stumbled over a root.

Even without the leaves it was just too dark to keep up his pace.  Cursing again he slowed down a bit.

A blinding white light shot through the trees throwing everything into a sharp relief.   It grew brighter, so everything was a stark black of shadows or white of light.

And then it all began to burn.

The last thought that ran through Jed’s mind was, “I’m too late.  Nuclear Armageddon.”

*

“What are you doing?” the professor asked. Continue reading

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Decisions – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

No map in hand
No lay of the land
The way forward is blocked

I thought I knew
How the future grew
The truth leaves me shocked

I can go right
No changes in sight
Into a future most locked

Or left for me
A path hard to see
In the fog it is socked

Easy, if plain
Or to rewards, with some pain
Either way seems pocked

So it is decision time
To go on without rhyme
To choose my path across the trackless sand

* Continue reading

Threshold – #writephoto

threshold

Photo by Sue Vincent

Morning light seeped in, illuminating the threshold, but not digging its way any deeper.  With the dawn came the salt-tinged breeze.  The surf continued, as it always had and always would, a constant background murmur and throb.  It was relaxing, kept the job at hand out of mind.

I peeked out from the entrance of the cave.  Nothing was moving.  I slipped back into the shadow.  They’d be here.  I knew.

*

“Come in.”

I opened the door and took a step, but then froze at the threshold.

“I’m sure you know all of these people.  Please come closer.”

The Commander continued to smile, but I knew something was up, something unpleasant.  I took two steps into the room.  The door was closed behind me. Continue reading

Bright – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

Note – this is a story based on the Seasons of Imagination cycle of stories plus the several later stories in the series.

I was awakened by a bright, blinding light.  A strange, off-key hum filled the air.  Was my spaceship damaged?

I sat up.

Queen Shimá, humming up a storm, turned from the window.  She had just opened the curtains, allowing my archenemy, the starry Sol, to send his death beams into my room!

“Good morning, sleepyhead.  You finally awake?”

“What time is it?” I asked.  I yawned.

“It’s pretty late, Sweetie, almost 8.”

8?  8AM?  That was early! Was I going to be sent to the uranium mines on Pluto, aka, the John Adams Elementary School, JAES, pronounced “Jazz”, after all?  But it was Saturday!

“I’ve done two loads of your laundry while you slept in,” Queen Shimá said. She pointed to a laundry basket. “You need to put them away.  And please fold them this time, and don’t just shove them in your drawers, OK?”

“Sure, Mom,” I said.  I’d say anything to appease the evil Queen, but I was not going to do her nefarious bidding!  Fold the clothes indeed, as if I were servant.  I mean, it was just Wednesday night that she made me take the trash out! Continue reading

Rift – #writephoto

rift

Photo by Sue Vincent

Jeg walked deeper into the woods.  His footsteps went almost at random for his mind was not on his path nor his surroundings.

It wasn’t just Dalph, though the rift that had sprung up between them bothered him. Just one misplaced word, one misinterpretation, and thousands of years of bad blood between his people, the Marishny, and hers, the Iniya, came bubbling to the surface.  They needed to work as one against their common enemy, and now a gaping chasm had opened up. The entire alliance was at risk.

Jeg walked on, head bowed.  He had long ago left familiar territory, but he didn’t notice.

Actually, it was Dalph.  The Iniya were so unapproachable.  They were breathtakingly beautiful, with a holy light always surrounding them.  There was something of the angelic with them for although they were as fallible as the Marishny, they could not knowingly do evil.  Jeg’s own people, though aspiring to good, seemed to fall into the pitfall of evil all too often.  The Iniya were slim and tall, a head taller than the average Marishny, and exceedingly strong. They could work minor magic.  No, not work magic, they were magic. The Marishny were closer to animals while the Iniya closer to the heavenly Atonee. Continue reading

Sign – #writephoto

Photo prompt provided by Sue Vincent

The house was pitch black when I entered.  I assumed the power must have been out, but the rest of the neighborhood was well lit.  Was there a problem that tripped off our entire house? Perhaps Aunt Lucy had done something. An image of her, frizzy grey hair standing on end, eyes bugged out, flashed through my mind.  She was an oddball and may have done something, well, not too bright…

“Aunt Lucy?” I said, though it was little more than a whisper.

I walked carefully through the house, not turning on any switches.  If my great aunt was touching a wire, I didn’t want to be the one to throw even more juice through what I imagined must be her smoldering remains.

“Aunt Lucy?” Continue reading

Tranquil – #writephoto

tranquil

Photo by Sue Vincent

The river slowed around the large bend, almost as still as a pond.  A fragrant breeze blew through the trees, giving much needed relief from the heat. I could hear a lazy fly buzz past.

I turned towards Kim.  “It’s so peaceful,” I said.

She nodded, looking out at the reflections of the trees on the water, not at me.

“It’s nice to be able to find a nice, tranquil corner of the world for a few minutes,” I said.

She just nodded again, still not looking at me.

It was understandable that she would be lost in thought, but on the other hand, I would think she would want some reminder of the loved ones around her. I sure needed the comfort of another living person. Continue reading

Invitation #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

(Note: This is the second chapter of yet another serial…  The first chapter is here (Note2 – if you read the first version on my last story, Timeless, you may want to read the second take as there were a few changes))

Michael glanced over at the man next to him. The man had finally came up with “Alexander, but my friends call me Alex”, but nobody believed it, and nobody could imagine calling him “Alex”.

Michael still wasn’t sure why he had invited this stranger to stay with him.  The guy was just plain strange.  But he obviously had no place else to go.  And the police were still searching for some sign of who he was.

The police said that there were no records on Alexander Karios any place in any country.  Fingerprints came back as nothing. No military, criminal or missing person records seemed to fit.

The landscape became more wooded as they drove. Alexander spoke for the first time since they got in the car. “We’re leaving the moors?” Continue reading

Timeless (Take 2) – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

(Note: I was not happy with my original telling of this story.  And if I turn it into a longer work, I need to change it. Here is the original.)

Black. It wasn’t the absence of light, because light could not exist.  It was the absence. The absence of everything.  Of light, of space, of time: there was nothing.

And then there was everything.

Everything expanded almost infinitely fast, though it didn’t, since time hadn’t ticked on yet and there was no space to travel. But then, in a small fraction of what some people would eventually call a “second”, the Universal clock ticked on and everything screeched to that ultra-slow speed that the stuff that would eventually be called light traveled.

Everything continued to expand at just below this new threshold.

He fell into this everything.

Again.

As he had before and as he would continue to do forever, as long as time existed.

He, of course, didn’t exist either.  Not yet.

He gasped for a breath.

Consciousness tried to fight its way to the surface, but was swallowed by the visions.

A thousand horsemen raced down onto the village, killing all in its wake.  The sea lapped peacefully on the shore as a few people wearing rough furs dug for clams. A spaceship left the sprawling city and descended out of orbit towards the blue Earth below.

He shivered. With the shiver consciousness finally won its fight.

He sat up, nameless, alone and naked.

Where was he?  When was he? Why here?  Why now?

He had slipped again, that was for sure. But he knew little else besides confusion.

The fog of his mind lifted.

It was a gentle field. His mind first spoke of northwestern Ohio, but then it settled into Brittany.  No, that was wrong.  Close, but wrong.

England.

A shape grabbed his attention.

He jumped up.

A Chorg!  They arrived in the 75th century.

But no, it was just a standing stone.  It had an odd angular pattern similar to a Chorg’s face, and bumps at the top like the eye stalks, but it was just a stone.

He walked over and touched it.

There was usually a reason for everything.  The stone most likely drew him in.

He shivered again.

He was always naked when he awoke from a slip.  How could it be otherwise?

There were voices.

A man and a woman were approaching.

Clothing always helped.  They were dressed for winter.  They were also dressed for the late 20th century or the early 21st.

Much experience taught him what to do.

“Hello,” he said in late 20th century English.  “I’m a bit confused. I have no idea where I am nor how I got here.  Can you help?”

The couple drew back, shocked at the appearance of the naked man in front of them.

“Please?” he said, his words a puff of steam in the frigid air.  “I’m lost and cold.”

He half smiled.

The man took off his coat and handed it to him.

“Let’s get out of this cold,” the man said, leading them back from the stone.

This was a routine perfected from countless encounters, a trick of the trade for the timeless.

But now he had hardened into a time and needed to figure out why.

***

Written for Sue Vincent‘s #write photo prompt.  See this week’s prompt here.

**

This is the second take on this story.  Here is the first.

**

This is now a serial story.  yes, again ;)

** First Chapter ** Next Chapter

*

Fragrant #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

A fragrant breeze blew in through the open window, causing the curtains to flutter. Todd walked over to close it, but Cindy stopped him with a shake of her head. The bit of late spring wind smelled of green and flowers and distant showers; it was fragrant with the scent of life and rebirth.

James walked into the garden. Mom was back there, but he hoped he could escape and have some private time with Margret. It took only a few turns in the path and they were alone, if only for a brief moment. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, putting the flowers to shame. He smiled shyly and, trying to hide his enthusiasm, he led her over to a bench.

“We graduate next week,” he said. He felt a little silly stating the obvious, but it was a start.  Margret nodded shyly. “I talked to the recruiter yesterday.  They’re desperate.  I’ll ship off for induction the day after graduation.”

“Oh, Jim,” Margret said. She drew closer, so they were pressed against each other, despite his mom being close. He put an arm around her and looked into her wonderful eyes. With a shock he realized that she was on the verge of tears. Continue reading