Tag Fantasy

Ready, Or Not – NaNo 3VisD 1

freyathewriter 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!

987861359317393ece4f41fcc0a7525683e0b3d752c6ae885531448652d6c0fea8e1997d4d4118c21aa117cfdd09f9eb(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.”

anonymous-legacy-160x160-black

Discarded – Trifecta Week 91

freyathewriter 27 Comments

Below is my offering for Trifecta’s week 91 challenge word, which is ‘brand’. As you will see from the Trifecta blog post, the challenge is to write between 33 and 333 words of fiction, non-fiction, poetry or prose, based on the 3rd definition from the Merriam Webster’s Online Dictionary. This week the 3rd definition of ‘brand’ is:

a (1): a mark made by burning with a hot iron to attest manufacture or quality or to designate ownership;

a(2): a printed mark made for similar purposes: a trademark

b(1): a mark put on a criminal with a hot iron

b(2): a mark of disgrace: stigma <the brand of poverty>

Here’s my offering below – I hope you like it! By way of backstory, this is a tiny extract from my work in progress novel (first edit done, second edit underway), which I first began as part of NaNoWriMo in 2011. It’s very rough and sharing this feels like I’m walking naked in front of you all, but for the word prompt it fits very well, as the issue of branding people runs right through my whole novel.

Please check here for the other entries!

*****

– Discarded –

The Penitents halted their circling and stamped their feet together abruptly. The noise echoed across the landscape – a crow rose from its perch in protest, a jagged ‘V’ in the sky. Dragging Gregor to his feet, the men pulled him to a nearby tree, binding him to its trunk face first.

A hooded figure marched forward and with one movement ripped Gregor’s cloak and shirt away revealing his target – the brand that lay beneath. In piteous defence, bare skin puckered with goose flesh against the dawn chill, but nothing could protect Gregor from the slash of knives as they flew, glinting in the winter sunlight, carving deep clefts from which gory jewels dripped, splattering the rocks at his feet. Flint struck stone, a muffled woomph followed as a torch was lit. There was a moment’s hesitation, cut short by a swift nod and flames were set against the bloody flesh, consuming and devouring with sickening greed. Gregor’s body sagged – the flame was extinguished.

The hooded man surveyed his prey for a moment then spat on the ground. ‘Not a squeal from him – how disappointing. Unleash him. He’s not worth the rope. Dispense with the formalities, he will soon understand his fate when he wakes. He is Discarded, for the record. Let us return to The Portal and continue our task.’

The Penitents untied Gregor’s senseless form, and cast him to one side. For good order they too spat on the ground before gliding away.

*****

Copyright - Freya

Copyright – Freya

Trifecta

The Captives

freyathewriter 3 Comments

It awakened long-distant memories. It reminded him of work, of long Sundays, of croissants, of Paris. His mouth watered in automatic response to the rich aroma and he licked his cracked lips in anticipation – an old habit.

He sat up, catching his breath as shards of pain arrowed across his chest. He lifted his shirt and in the one shaft of light piercing the darkness from a hole in the roof, he could see a large shadow hovering over his ribs – a bruise. He touched its dark centre, lifted his fingers to his mouth, tasted blood and felt grit on the end of his tongue. Recoiling, he spat, trying to clear his mouth of the metallic tang. 

The coffee. He groped in the gloom, following his sense of smell. His fingers found a plastic cup. He grasped it in both hands, inhaling the glorious, comforting smell before swallowing, desperate to lubricate his dry mouth and throat. It was proper coffee, not instant. Someone had good taste, and time to spare to brew it. Continue reading “The Captives” →