Tag Alastair’s Photo Fiction

On Top of the World – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

freyathewriter 20 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

18-07-july-28th-2013

– On Top of the World –

I stand on the swaying platform. The wind is scratching at my cheeks, clawing tears from my eyes. For a second, I remember a hiking trip in the Cambrian mountains…

My heart jumps in my chest with fear and laughter as I slip-slide backwards, my feet losing their grip on the scree skittering far below. The echoes of our joy career all around as you and I collapse safely at the top, lungs burning, chests heaving with the effort. Life is rainbow-hued.

Now, everything is fear. I inch forward to the edge of the platform, scanning the seas as they boil below. I see the top of The Shard cutting through the oily waves, and the summit of Heron Tower in the distance. London is gone. You are lost to me, flotsam and jetsam – somewhere.

I steel myself, zip up my diving gear, check my oxygen tanks and mask. The time has come.

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For non-Londoners, and non-Brits, here is information on The Shard and Heron Tower…

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Absorbed – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

freyathewriter 11 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA

– Absorbed –

We were never quite sure what Great Aunty’s religious beliefs were, whilst she was alive. She always kept that kind of information, plus anything else she considered to be personal (including her clothing size), very close to her chest.

We all went to her with our problems – we knew we could trust her, without question.

I did worry that she might have committed all of our angst to a lifetime’s worth of diaries. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case. The only handwritten books in her rambling house were those containing shopping lists. It’s odd, isn’t it, what we keep?

The ancient idol was a relic from a Pacific Island religion that is now nearly dormant. The idol would absorb everything that was spoken in its presence, so that when you passed over, you would die ‘clean’.

Thank you, Great Aunty. I’ve been a very bad woman during my life and confessed everything to you. It’s nice to think that I will be clean as well.

Vitality – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

freyathewriter 17 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by his black and white image below.  Why not take part? And visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…

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– Vitality –

We all think we have time. The things that seem important, take precedence – the work commitments, the house, the car, the status, the stuff. In acquiring all these things, we forget to notice that time is passing. We look at ourselves in the mirror, see the clothes that don’t quite work, the mascara that clumps no matter what brand we buy, that piece of hair that just won’t sit right. We buy unctions and sprays and shave and wax and primp and preen – the outside becomes who we are.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tock.

Enjoy the meaningful things. Family. Friends. Sunsets. Animals. Children. Talking until the moon is fat. Laughing. Crying. Loving. Drinking a good glass of wine. Doing something that scares you. Doing something you love. Dancing on the beach. Watching the fog roll over the moors. Listening to your favourite music until you can’t bear it any more.

Be vital.

Copyright Kattermonran

Copyright Kattermonran