Gone

Tuesday Tales 42
100-word flash fiction challenge
The Photo: left
The Secret Word: farmhouse

My entry: Gone

A cacophony of voices filled the farmhouse.

"What was she wearing?"

"Have you checked the barn?"

"When did you last see her?"

Moira sat, white and teary. Patrick was out scouring the fields, faint calls of "Rebeccah!" audible during rare moments of silence.

The young, earnest constable licked the point of his pencil and scribbled in his notebook. The crunch of a car in the lane interrupted the questioning, and the constable ushered in his sergeant.

"Mrs. O'Hara, we've found a bear on the street of the city. Here's a photo. Is it Rebeccah's?"

Moira's wails echoed down the valley.

100 words
@dee_768

Journey's End

Motivation Monday

The Prompt: You'll find monsters where you least expect them.

The photo is one I chose to go with the story.

Rules: 1. The story must start from the prompt. This means the prompt must be the first words in the story.

2. No more than 500 words (not including the prompt).  No less than 100 words.

The Journey Part 5: Journey's End
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You'll find monsters where you least expect them.

Jessa scrambled through the gate of the Colony with rubbery knees and trembling hands. The Keeper smashed the gate in the face of the Ravager, slamming the bar home. Jessa staggered, and the guard supported her with an arm around her waist, half-carrying her to a nearby stone bench.

"Sit for a mo," he said, "and I'll send for your Captain. Horse, right?"

Jessa nodded, still panting from her frantic final race. "Water," she gasped.

"Of course," said the Keeper, and handed her his canteen.

After gulping her fill, Jessa sat, zoned out. Far better not to think at all than to remember. She'd need to recount her journey soon enough.

"Well, and ye made it, then."

Jessa leaped up at the harsh voice, her hand flying up to her forehead in a salute. "Sir, yes sir." But her knees liquefied and she dropped back to the bench. Appalled, she struggled back to her feet. "Sorry, sir."

Horse exposed huge teeth in his long, lugubrious face, his version of a smile. "Here, lass, let me take the pack." He hefted it off her shoulders and began walking toward the barracks, certain that she'd follow. "Ye found the alloy, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Jazzy?" His furry brow lifted.

Jessa blinked back the sting in her eyes and swallowed the desert in her throat. "She didn't make it, sir. Ravagers."

Horse shook his head, his coarse mane of dark hair flowing around his shoulders. "Ah, such a shame. But ye've done well, lass."

Seated in his office, Jessa finished her report. "Cap'n, I found a leaf, at least I think it was."

When she described it, Horse said, "Well, lass, I think ye'd better report this to the Leader."

Jessa's heart leaped and sang for joy as she followed Horse to the Sanctum, where only a favored few entered. She said a quick prayer to the None that the Leader would find favor with her.

The Leader's eyes were deep and mesmerizing, and she dared not look into them as he ushered her into his Holy Place. Seated on a cushion before his throne she kept her head bowed, eyes down as she told him of the leaf.

"And were there no fragments you could collect and bring to me?" His sonorous voice echoed like angel choirs.

"The Ravager almost got me while I was looking for them."

The Leader rose and held out his hand, drawing her up. "Look at me, child."

When her eyes met his, Jessa froze, and when his lips covered hers she would have screamed, but she couldn't. Her thoughts, memories, dreams all flowed from her mouth into his and were absorbed into his being.

His jaw unhinged, swallowing first her face, then her head. The rest of her followed, and she knew no more.

Prompt plus 468 words

The Journey Part 4a

#ThursThreads Week 24
Word requirement: 100-250
The Prompt: "The whir of wings broke the silence."
No picture, but I picked the one above to go with the story.

My entry: The Journey Part 4a
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Huddled, Jessa reached for the leaf, easing it from the rusty old fence. Brown and sere, it could crumble to dust in her hand if she weren't careful.

How could she get it back to the Colony intact? Her pack was filled to bursting with the precious cargo she'd traveled so far to find. But the leaf, if indeed that's what it was, could be even more precious. She had to get it back to the Leader. He'd know if it was a remnant of the Before or if it meant life was returning to the planet.

It might make him notice her.

Her heart bounced, then steadied. Not likely. Her sigh was invisible in the moaning wind as she resumed her trudge, gentle fingers curved to shield the leaf.

Always watching, ever listening, she sniffed the acrid air, seeking a first sense of the Colony. The ruined road would lead her there, she knew, and she prayed to the None to bring her home tonight, before full dark made traveling too dangerous.

The whir of wings broke the silence, and Jessa dropped to the ground, just one more rock in the rubble. Only her eyes moved as she squinted to discern. Was it a Ravager's raptor or a dove from the Colony? Had it seen her?

The bird landed nearby, and she sighed in relief. Gathering herself, she rose to finish the journey. She looked for the leaf. Crushed brown fragments blew away on the breeze.

247 words

Week 24 Winner
Dee | @Dee_768
Claire says: I loved this one because the focus was on this old leaf she found, something so irrelevant to a reader now but incredibly important to this girl and the world in which she lived. That world was vividly portrayed for me in just a few sentences. I even loved the sentence about her wanting to be noticed, that passionate sense of hope. The prompt was ancillary to the story but the trigger for the tragic ending. I read this one and it really scored with me and stuck with me as the day wore on.

The Journey Part 3

#TuesdayTales Flash Fiction
100 words
Secret Word: Lunacy--any form of insanity, foolish act, or a psychiatric condition
Picture, above

My Entry: The Journey Part 3
Part 1 | Part 2

The Bright sank into the rubbled distance. Hazardous broken pavement forced caution. Energy and water almost gone, an injury would end her. Jessa picked her way, soft-soled boots silent. Ravagers might be anywhere.

Rustling along the fence froze her, flattened, listening. Minutes later it came again, close by. In the halflight she could just see it, caught in the rusting grid. Could it be? She'd only seen pictures, but she was almost certain.

She slithered over, fearing a trap. It was lunacy, but she wanted it. Dry and brown, but evidence of growth, life.

Huddled, she reached for the leaf...

100 words
@dee_768

This post has been moved from my main page. Original comments are here.

The Journey Part 2

#MenageMonday Flash Fiction Challenge
100-200 words
Three Prompts:
The Photo, above, courtesy of ABC News
The Phrase: “[didn't/don't/doesn't] want this” (you can choose one of the three options and this can appear anywhere in the story)
The Judge’s Prompt: The Phoenix – the bird, the legend, as a symbol, a statue, as an idea, as a concept, or even abstractly as a suggestion or condition.

My Entry: The Journey Part 2
(For Part 1 click here.)

It was too early for dusk, and yet the sky darkened.

Crouched in the remains of a burned-out building, Jessa squinted at the Bright through almost-closed eyes. She’d heard stories. The Bright would dim, but then it would reappear. She was almost sure of it. Should she begin her dusk trudge early?

The metal gridwork, remnant of the Before, felt like protection and she didn’t want to leave it. But she should take advantage of the encroaching darkness to move. There’d been no signs of another soul for more than three sen’nights and her journey must be almost over. The Colony was close. It had to be.

I don’t want this, she thought, closing her eyes and still seeing the crescent ball of fire on the inside of her lids. Stay or move? She prayed to the None, as she did every morning, every night, for Jazzy’s soul in the After, for her own safety. She wished… but there was no wishing, only doing.

She peered south, hoping and praying for the first vision of the rusted iron towers of the Colony. But there was only ruin.

Making her decision, she grabbed her precious pack and rose from the ashes.

200 words
Honorable Mention
Dee | @dee_768
Phoenix Says: I love the simple names for things: the None, the Bright, the Before, etc. I remember part one of the story, too. Plans to continue? I’d read it!

This post has been moved from my main page. Original comments are here.

The Writer

#MenageMonday Flash Fiction

Word Requirement: 100-200 words

Three Prompts:

1. The Photo, above.

2. The Phrase: "need more time" (can appear anywhere in the story).

3. The Judge's Prompt: storms--mental, emotional or physical.

My Entry: The Writer

The fire crackled, yellow flames flaring to blue as she tossed another crumpled page in.

"That's right, burn, you fucker," she cursed, adreneline storming through her body.

"I'm home." Her husband appeared through the back door, his brow creasing when he realized what she was doing. "What's going on?"

"Ten fucking years. I've had enough." Her voice choked on the last word, and the tears overflowed. Blinded, she nevertheless continued feeding the fire, one page at a time.

"You heard from Smallpress, then?"

"I used their letter with the kindling." She sniffed back the runniness of her nose. "Tomorrow I'm going down and putting in my application at the factory."

He put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Ten fucking years," she repeated, giving up and sobbing against his chest.

"Maybe you just need to give it more time," he suggested.

"I don't need more time," she mumbled. "I need more talent."

All of a sudden her head jerked up. "Wait. I've got an idea."

She jerked away from him and raced into the house. As he doused the bonfire, from the open window he heard the clattering of the typewriter.

192 words

Honorable Mention
Dee |@dee_768
Ah, the endless struggle of the writer. Love the sense of hope at the end.

Partly inspired by my dearest Muddy babe.

This post has been moved from my main page. Original comments are here.

The Bookkeeper

Tuesday Tales
100-word flash fiction challenge

The Photo: left

The Secret Word: Conjugal

My Entry: The Bookkeeper

The rising sun lit his desk chair, dust motes mocking him.

"Shit," he muttered, knowing he had to sit down and get to work.

He sighed as he opened the ledger, his nemesis, gathering piles of receipts and bits of paper, beginning the entries. If he concentrated, he could finish in time to meet her for dinner. The thought of her made him smile.

Hours later, his adding machine whirred as he totaled the columns, debits and credits dancing in conjugal bliss.

"Double shit," he muttered when he examined the tape.

The ledger, like his life, was out of balance.

100 words

Honorable Mention:  Best Use of the Word “Conjugal:”   Dee -  @dee_768

Praise: Love it! This one was an easy pick for Honorable Mention, and very nearly took the cake. I especially enjoyed the image conveyed by “debits and credits dancing in conjugal bliss.” Mmm, yeah, all those pluses and minuses moving together…ahem. Pardon me.

Criticism: In the end, I felt that some of the “telling” in this story might have been better as “showing,” which is why it comes in second.


This post has been moved from my main page. Original comments are here.

The Journey

#MenageMonday Flash Fic

Word Requirement: 100-200 words

Three prompts:

1. The Photo, above

2. The Phrase: “[ ] can explain” (this can appear anywhere in the story)

3. The Judge’s Prompt: inspired by a less-than-inspiring week of customer service experiences, this week’s prompt is a theme and/or quote "Why should I care?"

My Entry: The Journey

Jessa huddled in the shadow of the concrete monolith, muttering a prayer to the None, tears burning her eyes.

"Don't let him find me. Please."

Jazzy's cries ended mid-shriek and the silence was broken only by the thwack of rebar and grunts of the Ravager. Jessa's senses screamed "run," but silent movement in the jungle of ruins was impossible. All she could do was hide and pray.

Hours later, the Bright sank below the jagged horizon and Jessa's conscious returned. Dusk and dawn were the only time she and Jazzy dared...

Her mouth distorted in a silent wail as the memory crashed back. But through the anguish she knew she had to keep going. It was at least another thirtnight back to the colony, longer if she didn't take advantage of every mo of halflight.

"Why should I care?" she whispered to the None. "I'm still here. None can explain the why of it."

She closed her eyes and sent forth her senses, ears open for any faint ding or crunch, hands and feet in the rubble seeking infinitesimal vibration. The stillness of the planet was complete.

With no hint of any presence, she rose and shouldered her pack.

200 words

Week 30 Champ: Dee | @dee_768
Katherine Says: If she ever writes this book, I would want first crack at publishing it.

This post has been moved from my main page. Original comments are here.

Tunnel of Love

For the first time ever, I tried writing a flash fic.

Word requirement: 100-200 words

Photo: left

Phrase: You're joking

Judge's Prompt: Saluting the Irish and drunken souls everywhere this week, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, the prompt theme is: a lucky day (however you choose to interpret luck)

My entry: Tunnel of Love

“You’re joking.” She stared past the peeling-paint swan’s head as they floated down the glorified drainage ditch. The mouth of the cavern gaped, ready to swallow up the small boat.

His white teeth gleamed in a face alternating between beautiful and wicked as the shadows cast by hanging moss flicked over it. “No worries, babe. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Tunnel of love, yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath, but it was hard to drag her eyes away from his muscled arms flexing as he paddled. She thanked her lucky stars that he’d chosen her as the first. The line of women filled the dock and overflowed into the street, each waiting a turn to give her donation and ride with this gorgeous stranger.

The fetid odor of swamp mingled with his exotic scent and she looked down to see that water was seeping into the bottom of the boat. She pulled her feet back. “It’s leaking.”

“No worries, babe,” he repeated, his voice thick as the boat slipped through the portal into darkness. His arms snaked around her. “My lucky day,” he murmured just before his teeth sank into her throat.

191 words

Menage Monday Challenge

P.S. You'd be shocked if you knew how long this took me to write. Man, am I ever out of practice. But at least I'm writing.

This post has been moved from my main page. Original comments are here.