Post Haste – Sunday Photo Fiction

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Working for the Royal Mail used to be something Stephen felt great pride in, carrying on the family tradition of his great-great-great uncle, Samuel Robertson. He had been a forthright gentleman, by all accounts.

Stephen unlocked the curved door of the letterbox and removed the basket from its belly. In a few minutes, the hungry mouth that had swallowed thousands of letters for decades would be blocked up, probably forever. What a sad day.

Reaching into the gloom, Steve ran his hand inside before locking it shut. ‘Just making sure,’ he thought, not really expecting to find anything.

The dusty, dirty envelope he pulled out looked like it had been trapped inside for decades. The writing was faded, but Steve could just make out the name on the front of the envelope. “’Mr Stephen Robertson’,” he read, surprised. “That’s me! But…?”

He opened it, hastily, furtively. It was addressed to him, but how could it be? Was he breaking the law, he wondered? He pulled out the single piece of paper, hands shaking.

“’Dear Stephen, do not decommission this letterbox. There will be consequences. I remain your servant, Samuel Robertson, Esq.’”

“As you ask, Samuel, mate, as you ask,” thought Stephen, driving away.

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Here’s my latest entry into Alistair’s Sunday Photo Fiction. He supplies us with his own wonderful photos, so deserves our support! Happy Sunday, all….

Do take part if you have time, or just pop over and read the other entries.

Supernature – Friday Fictioneers

Here is this week’s entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

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Copyright – David Stewart

– Supernature –

They call it The Bell of Hope.

These days, there is nobody left in the remote village who was alive when the disaster happened. However, everyone from the tiniest child to the oldest matriarch seems to remember it, as if it was only yesterday.

Eyes widen, faces animate, hands gesticulate. The collective memory is like a fever – hot, rapid, infectious.

We outsiders are inclined to disbelief – until The Bell of Hope peals ferociously of its own volition each 21st February at 2.13pm. The exact time at which the sleeping volcano erupted and engulfed the houses clinging to its slopes.

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Click on the blue froggy below to read others’ offerings!

Premonition – Five Sentence Fiction

 

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.

Image Source

Image Source

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…

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– 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