Tag Archives: #writephoto

Mirror #writephoto

mirror-pool

Photo by Sue Vincent

“Which is the real world, the one in front of me or the one reflected in the mirror of the pool?”

Dan laughed at his bit of silliness.

It had all been getting to him, work, family, everything.  Reality.  His reality.  He needed some time alone, far from his work and family, far from his reality.  Time to be alone with himself.  What is more important than self?  It wasn’t a hard decision: he took a long weekend to unwind in the woods. It would be perfect.

But it wasn’t going as well as planned.  Despite being away from it all, so far all he had done is worry, worry and more worry. The real world just wouldn’t leave him in peace.  He would see a flower and think of bills unpaid, work not finished, arguments unresolved. Continue reading

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Journey #writephoto

journey-sue-vincent

Photo by Sue Vincent

I don’t remember ever being so hungry.  Starved.  What an awful journey!  I cursed our captain and king, and went over the ridge.

Just think, we had been staying in a land where the fruit was unlimited.  There was nothing to do but sit back, eat, sleep and enjoy ourselves.  After all of those years of war, what more could a man ask for?  But no, we had to move on, continue our journey.

The idiot.

I stopped and pointed.  The weeds had been close cropped, so I assumed there was something edible around, but my suspicions were proved correct when I spotted the sheep.

Oh, delicious mutton!  Lamb steaks!  Lamb chops!

Actually, any meat would do, but this was glorious. 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

Destination #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

It is all kind of foggy.  I need to think.

I see a flash, like a snapshot, of the highway. A truck in front of me.  It all looks wrong.  It is just a flash, like a nanosecond frozen in time.

That’s it.  No before nor an after, no origin nor destination.  I was traveling, that is all.  That instant is my everything, lost in this fog.

It doesn’t make sense.

But there is a light.  There.  Just in front of me.

The fog of my mind lifts slightly revealing little, but the fog around me lifts more.

How odd.

I am on a tree-lined country road, the branches reaching over me forming a tunnel. 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

Forgotten #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

The women giggled and pointed.  William studiously ignored them.  Like the others, they had strange attire and even more bizarre behavior.  He thought of his own clothing and was sure that he looked out of place.  But this was his home village!  Or, rather, town, as it had grown since he had left.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t find any records.”  The man smiled at William.

“Are you sure?  My family was here when William’s men came through, counting heads, well on five centuries back!”

“Are you talking The Conqueror and the Domesday Book?”  The man frowned.

“I know nothing about a book.  My grandfather made a claim and it was proved by good King William, thus the name stayed in the family.”

“Well, your history is wrong, then.  The survey was well over nine centuries ago.”

“I’ve been away less than a decade, not half a millennia!  There has to be something in your box.  The name is Grote.  My father was also William, William Grote.  Check again.”

“Is that ‘G-R-O-T-E’ or ‘G-R-O-A-T’?”

“How should I know?  Just look, please.” 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

Wicker #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

So you are saying that sunlight has magical powers?

Yes, over evil it does.  You see, it is full of purity.  It destroys monsters.

Right.  There is a certain orange monster I’d like to expose to the sunlight…  Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to work with human monsters.

Maybe not, but it does other, more supernatural monsters.  Case in point, trolls?

I read The Hobbit.  They turn to stone.

Exactly.  Vampires?

Uhm.  Let’s see, I think they burn up.

Good.  Werewolves?

Hmmmm. Makes them take a nap?

No!  They turn back into their human form not remembering what happened under the full moon.

Right. And I’m sure you are going to tell me that it turns witches into wood.  Like in Monty Python.  Burn them!

Well, now that you mention it…

I’ll believe it when I see it.

Easy enough.

Oh, so you are saying there are some wicker witches out there?

Something like that.  Let’s take a walk, I’ve something to show you….

(If you can’t see the prompt, the image shows three figures that seem to be female and made of branches, with their hands joined. Witches dancing? Perhaps caught mid-step by the sunlight?)

***

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