Category VisDare
The Choosing – VisDare 39
Here’s my latest offering for Anonymous Legacy‘s photo-inspired prompt, VisDare. This week’s prompt word is ‘Adore’. 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?
– The Choosing –
“Who is she again?”
“We call her Mother.”
“Yes, but who is she?”
“Mother. That’s all.”
“You don’t understand. I need to know her bloodline, her ancestors, her descendants. It’s important!”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
“Why is it important? What is the difference?”
“My research…”
“It is of no consequence. She will still be of us. She will still love and be loved in return. She will still be Mother.”
The man stared, swallowed. The grey eyes stared back, unblinking.
“Come. Come and be with us. Meet Mother. Just be.”
The man stood, feeling strangely at peace. He allowed himself to be drawn in, to meet Mother.
His research could wait.
*****
The Fight – VisDare 38
Here’s my latest offering for Anonymous Legacy‘s photo-inspired prompt, VisDare. This week’s prompt word is ‘Chase’. 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?
– The Fight –
They’re too fast. There’s no way I can escape their clutches. My stomach clenches with fear, I gasp, swallow sea-water and go under, once, twice, flailing, kicking, eyes stinging against the salt.
My chest is on fire. I’m desperate to breathe, to oxygenate my lungs. Where’s the surface? What will be worse, drowning or….?
Instinct – the primeval urge to survive – pushes me to the surface and I pop up, released like a champagne cork. I drag in ragged breaths. I don’t care if they get me, I just need to breathe…
The sun shines. A lone seagull casts its shadow on the gently swelling surface. The storm has passed and they are gone. I see the lighthouse, a candy-striped speck in the distance and begin to power through the water towards it.
For the next few minutes, I can pretend that all is as it used to be.
Freya Writes... 