Ready, Or Not – NaNo 3VisD 1

November 9, 2013November 9, 2013freyathewriter 4 Comments

Here’s my latest offering for Anonymous Legacy‘s photo-inspired prompt, VisDare. This week, and for the rest of NaNoWriMo, she’s ringing the changes, so the rules are a little different…

Use whichever photo you like for your VisDare.

OR

Use TWO of the photos of your choosing as a combined prompt.

OR

Use ALL THREE of the photos as a combined prompt.

Hmmm…. And we have 300 words to play with, rather than 150! Never one to avoid snatching at a laid down gauntlet, I’m going for all three photos!

(see Lillie McFerrin for image source references)

– Ready, Or Not –

The clearing had barely changed since last year and a momentary element of surprise rippled his skin. Logic reminded him that the chances of another lost soul landing here were non-existent. This place was his, and his alone.

This time, he had brought the tools of modern orienteering. A sat-phone, a GPS and solar-powered batteries all added weight to his backpack, providing a comfort to his anxious mind.

His luminous watch told him that the time was nearly here. Soon, they would appear. In the dark, he checked the settings of his camera, made sure it was ready to fire off shot after shot in rapid succession. All he needed to do was press the button.

He was ready.

***

“Hey! Brad! We’ve found it! The clearing is over there, look!”

“Hallelujah! Boy, I’m gonna give Donny a piece of my mind after this. This place is hotter than Hades!”

“D’you think he had an accident, or something?”

“If he hasn’t, I’ll make sure he has one after this –“

“Holy heck! Oh my, – oh God, Brad, no, quick!”

***

“Today, we remember the soul of Donald Aitken, an explorer and investigator of the Dark Times beyond our time and realm. He pushed the boundaries in an effort to reveal the secrets of this world, and beyond. Sadly, as we know, he chased hard and fast, and this time, met his end. Donald, we salute you.”

Bifurcation – VisDare 44

November 2, 2013November 2, 2013freyathewriter 4 Comments

Here’s my latest offering for Anonymous Legacy‘s photo-inspired prompt, VisDare. This week’s prompt word is ‘Parallel’. The rules are simple:

150 words – or less.

Post entry to your blog and “link in”.

(Please – no erotica or graphic violence.)

DON’T FORGET to read and comment on others’ entries!!

The photo is below, and my piece follows. Let me know what you think, and give it a go yourself, why not?

Image Source

– Bifurcation –

Here, at the river’s widest point, is the only place we can stand without being seen by them. We wave and blow kisses, calling to each other in vain.

It has been 427 days since I last held her in my arms – my sister, my best friend. Each night my dreams are plagued with thoughts of building a raft, or swimming across, somehow holding my precious son high above my head to keep him safe. But it is impossible. The current is too strong, the waters too deep.

I crossed over that day, chasing a rumour of fresh flour, baby formula and potatoes. I never imagined they would demolish the bridge. I never imagined that I would be separated from my son. My dreams are torture.

I wake up and my arms ache for the feel of him.

I wake up. Hollow.

Premonition – Five Sentence Fiction

November 1, 2013freyathewriter 4 Comments

It’s time for my latest offering to Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction, a weekly prompt where there is no word limit, just a limit on the number of sentences. Plus, although she provides a word prompt, it is just for direction only – you don’t have to include the word itself in your contribution.

This week, the prompt is – ERASED.

Do let me know what you think of my offering below – and whilst you’re at it, why not take a look at everyone else’s offerings (I’m sure they’ll be fabulous), and even give it a go yourself…

*****

– Premonition –

I have a recurring nightmare of faceless men pursuing me until I jolt awake, my skin crawling with fear.

They are like the wind, gaining on me whilst my legs turn leaden and my lungs burn.

It’s only a bad dream, I have consoled myself, hunting for the patch of bedclothes not soaked in cold fear, curling up against the night, willing myself to find calmer waters.

Tonight, at last, they have found me – I can feel their cold breath raising the hairs on my flesh as they pull me from my slumber.

I am The Prophet and living is my curse.

Lillie McFerrin Writes