I seem to be hungry right now, and not just for food. I’m hungry for external inspiration for short pieces of writing. It’s a good job that Alastair’s Photo Fiction is here to curb the gnawing!
Alastair is both a writer and a photographer, so the image he provides each week as inspiration is also one of his own – visit his photography and writing blog to take a look!
Here is my offering this week, inspired by Alastair’s black and white image below. Why not take part?
It had been her dream to live here. As a child she had imagined standing at the edge of the cliff, her grown-up self silhouetted by a setting sun, shawl wrapped tightly against the cool breeze. Solitary, not lonely.
Yet, she had been careless as she wove her dreams, crafting her future as she slept. In her innocence, she had forgotten to wish for pristine oceans, perfectly balanced as nature intended. Now, as the waters boiled far below, whipped by the winds of an approaching storm, their sterility broke her. The last whale had beached itself in desperation two nights ago, blanched and blistered by the chemical seas. She would never dip her toe and shriek at the cold, never run ecstatically through the surf, never dive into the white horses crashing on the silvered sand.
She had waited for perfection. Now, everything was tainted.