Miranda Kate's Blog, page 53
September 5, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 71
I haven't found the photographer of this specific photo but the sculpture is in the gardens of the Found in Padma Resort at Legian, Bali, Indonesia. It looks incredible. And I love how it is coming out of the lawn.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Uprising
Some said that it wasn’t just a replica, that it was real. Some said they had seen others throughout the land and that they still existed. Some said that they only showed themselves to those that truly believed in them.
I believed in them. But then I was one of them.
And standing here now looking at Jafra frozen in defeat brought it all back. Not that I had really forgotten; it was always there staring me in the face: the blue turquoise glint across my brown eyes whenever I got excited, melting ice with my breath if I concentrated, and the tremors through my body when I knew there was another dragon close.
There were still dragons, but they were in hiding like me. It was the only way to stay alive through these times of Human domination. We were just biding out time until we could rise again and claim what was ours. Although I wondered if there would be anything left by that time – humans were consuming everything, and they didn’t care. They gloated about everything they took – Jafra’s remains being so public was a reminder of that.
If someone as high born as he had been, and so skilled a warrior, could be turned into a garden ornament to be mocked every day, what hope was there for the rest of us?
But ‘the rest of us’ was growing. I could feel the presence of others increasing in my blood. Thanks to the human’s advanced technology it was getting easier to find each other and breed, even if staying in disguise while doing so. It was only a matter of time before we could take on our natural appearance again and show the world the true dominant species.
We had learnt the errors of our ways; this time we wouldn’t be so trusting. We knew what to do differently; what the weak spots of the human condition were, and how to use them to our advantage.
I looked into Jafra’s eyes and could hear his heartbeat in my soul. A new world order was approaching. It wouldn’t be long now.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Uprising
Some said that it wasn’t just a replica, that it was real. Some said they had seen others throughout the land and that they still existed. Some said that they only showed themselves to those that truly believed in them.
I believed in them. But then I was one of them.
And standing here now looking at Jafra frozen in defeat brought it all back. Not that I had really forgotten; it was always there staring me in the face: the blue turquoise glint across my brown eyes whenever I got excited, melting ice with my breath if I concentrated, and the tremors through my body when I knew there was another dragon close.
There were still dragons, but they were in hiding like me. It was the only way to stay alive through these times of Human domination. We were just biding out time until we could rise again and claim what was ours. Although I wondered if there would be anything left by that time – humans were consuming everything, and they didn’t care. They gloated about everything they took – Jafra’s remains being so public was a reminder of that.
If someone as high born as he had been, and so skilled a warrior, could be turned into a garden ornament to be mocked every day, what hope was there for the rest of us?
But ‘the rest of us’ was growing. I could feel the presence of others increasing in my blood. Thanks to the human’s advanced technology it was getting easier to find each other and breed, even if staying in disguise while doing so. It was only a matter of time before we could take on our natural appearance again and show the world the true dominant species.
We had learnt the errors of our ways; this time we wouldn’t be so trusting. We knew what to do differently; what the weak spots of the human condition were, and how to use them to our advantage.
I looked into Jafra’s eyes and could hear his heartbeat in my soul. A new world order was approaching. It wouldn’t be long now.
August 29, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 70
This week's photo was taken by Veronique Yang over on instagram (under name of Golden Heart). It was taken in Zurich, Switzerland. Veronique travels to a lot of places and have some interesting pictures.
This story went very dark very quickly. Sometimes it is just the way it goes. And it's been a while since I've gone this horror filled. But be warned it might be for everyone.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Satisfying Urges
I crawled up and out of the manhole, a passing tram covering my arrival. No one saw me. But then no one ever did – I made sure of that. Although today was novel, I didn’t usually come up during daylight hours, even though the day was almost over.
I had a special errand to run today, one I had been planning for some time. Butterflies took flight in my stomach when I thought about it, and a pulse somewhere lower reminded me of the reason behind it. It was time.
I skulked my way into the shadows the buildings threw, trying to become a part of them while moving along to my goal and journey’s end. The leaves on the ground thickened as I approached the gates to the park. Here it was: my playground, my sanctuary. It fed all parts of my soul.
I had chosen to come early so I could feast my eyes and take a proper look. The leaves were blossoming as they removed their summer attire, showing their true nature. I admired their actions, looking forward to doing the same shortly. It was time for my true nature to show itself too.
I found my favourite thicket and pushed myself inside. There was space for two while still remaining unseen. It was the perfect place for my business here tonight.
My nightly visits had proved beneficial; I’d mapped the movements of the people. They never wanted to think they were creatures of habit, but we all were – just some darker ones than others. I smiled to myself as I waited. She would come and she would sit and I would relish, oh so much.
I heard her footsteps as the tones of the day were dimming into nightfall. She clip-clopped in her high shoes like a parade horse. My fingers itched to touch them, and her feet, and her legs ... and oh so much more.
She paused, as she always did by the bench. It was her favourite place to hang. It was a cross point of visitors and brought her a steady flow of admirers. I had watched them; they too were regular. And some liked to do their business there and then. It was the most thrilling part. But some would want to find somewhere to go, somewhere close and covered – like this next one.
I shuffled back pushing myself into the denser part of the shrubbery. I didn’t want them to see me, not yet, and now with full dark just seconds away they wouldn’t.
She led him to the bushes, knowing her way in, entering gracefully. He also knew and didn’t hesitate – as some of the others did – and as soon as they were in he was revealing himself and she was on her knees feasting on it.
I took a moment to enjoy the view, my breath mixing with theirs, hot and heavy as it worked its magic. And then I struck, taking them both down.
They barely had time to react, the foliage muffling what small cries escaped their occupied mouths. She was easy, she was already half way down, but he crashed like a tree, the stake in his back shuddering as he fell on the one protruding from hers.
It was enough to finish me off, and I was done for the night. It was time to retreat. I didn’t need to clean them up that would be the job of those who found them. I had done my part.
This story went very dark very quickly. Sometimes it is just the way it goes. And it's been a while since I've gone this horror filled. But be warned it might be for everyone.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Satisfying Urges
I crawled up and out of the manhole, a passing tram covering my arrival. No one saw me. But then no one ever did – I made sure of that. Although today was novel, I didn’t usually come up during daylight hours, even though the day was almost over.
I had a special errand to run today, one I had been planning for some time. Butterflies took flight in my stomach when I thought about it, and a pulse somewhere lower reminded me of the reason behind it. It was time.
I skulked my way into the shadows the buildings threw, trying to become a part of them while moving along to my goal and journey’s end. The leaves on the ground thickened as I approached the gates to the park. Here it was: my playground, my sanctuary. It fed all parts of my soul.
I had chosen to come early so I could feast my eyes and take a proper look. The leaves were blossoming as they removed their summer attire, showing their true nature. I admired their actions, looking forward to doing the same shortly. It was time for my true nature to show itself too.
I found my favourite thicket and pushed myself inside. There was space for two while still remaining unseen. It was the perfect place for my business here tonight.
My nightly visits had proved beneficial; I’d mapped the movements of the people. They never wanted to think they were creatures of habit, but we all were – just some darker ones than others. I smiled to myself as I waited. She would come and she would sit and I would relish, oh so much.
I heard her footsteps as the tones of the day were dimming into nightfall. She clip-clopped in her high shoes like a parade horse. My fingers itched to touch them, and her feet, and her legs ... and oh so much more.
She paused, as she always did by the bench. It was her favourite place to hang. It was a cross point of visitors and brought her a steady flow of admirers. I had watched them; they too were regular. And some liked to do their business there and then. It was the most thrilling part. But some would want to find somewhere to go, somewhere close and covered – like this next one.
I shuffled back pushing myself into the denser part of the shrubbery. I didn’t want them to see me, not yet, and now with full dark just seconds away they wouldn’t.
She led him to the bushes, knowing her way in, entering gracefully. He also knew and didn’t hesitate – as some of the others did – and as soon as they were in he was revealing himself and she was on her knees feasting on it.
I took a moment to enjoy the view, my breath mixing with theirs, hot and heavy as it worked its magic. And then I struck, taking them both down.
They barely had time to react, the foliage muffling what small cries escaped their occupied mouths. She was easy, she was already half way down, but he crashed like a tree, the stake in his back shuddering as he fell on the one protruding from hers.
It was enough to finish me off, and I was done for the night. It was time to retreat. I didn’t need to clean them up that would be the job of those who found them. I had done my part.
August 22, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 69
This week's photo was taken by Swen Stroop, a Norwegian photographer. This is Callanish Stone Circle, on the Isle of Lewis, Scotland. Swen has some amazing photographs. Check out his site for more.
I thought of what story these stones really told, in contrast to all the strange ideas that we come up with to try and explain them. But in truth we don't know. There is a great deal that we don't know. And here I dabble in that.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Truth
It hurt my soul to see it this way, so skeletal. It had been so majestic in its day, and I missed those days sorely. They would now be considered days of hedonism or living in utopia, but they;d been normal back then. Civilisation had been exactly that - civil.
I smiled when I thought about what they said this place had been and the tales they told; they couldn’t be further off the mark. Why was it that anything that couldn’t be explained had to have some strange religious meaning? Why did it always have to be a place of worship or be tied to some other cult rituals?
They had looked round the circle of bare stones that had once been the backbone of an incredible building and noted the sun shined through in certain places at certain times of the year, which seemed to verify to them that that had been the intention of the placement of the stones originally. Apparently it was so they were in alignment and connected to some new fangled idea of religion that existed back then. But as they had no concept of what the original structure had looked like they had no idea how wrong they were – let alone that religion was a new creation in the current civilisation, one used to control people, something completely unnecessary back then. Some days I could laugh at it, but some days it frustrated me.
When I visited other sites across Europe, and talked about similar structures that had once been tombs, they knew that what they were looking at was the bare bones of the structure, so why didn’t they realise that with the stone circles?
They would say it was because there was no ‘evidence’ of anything else. But as they had the aging process wrong and their understanding of time was completely out of whack, they didn’t realise just how old the stones really were, and how long they had been standing there. I did. I felt it in every sinew of my soul. I had lived through so much now and I could feel myself tiring – or was it just this time, this moment, watching civilisation yet again taking a dive and all of them oblivious as to why?
The clock was ticking loud now; if someone didn’t put the brakes on there might be a little bit more than a culling; they risked annihilation at their own hands. Although they were busy squabbling over weapons, thinking that whatever killed them would be man-made, but you didn’t fuck with nature. This was something they had forgotten for more than a couple of thousand years now.
It brought me back full circle to where I was standing; how this place too had fallen and people wiped out. Nature didn’t discriminate, it just abided, come what may.
Their tombs might be found here and there, but once they had been so much more. And these stones, these mini monoliths were all that remained of what had once been a palace – one of hundreds that fell across the landscape and housed the communities that lived in them.
Those communities had relished their life and embraced everyone and everything. It was pitiful to think that it was now being reduced to an obscure fantasy of dogma or doctrine, idolising an imaginary creator, something the people who had lived here would have never perceived.
Those people had been sure of themselves and confident in their pure essence, seeing themselves as pieces of a whole that needed to live symbiotically to enjoy the human experience. Not some individual fracturing to gain more than their neighbour so they could play cruel games of ‘mine’s better than yours’, or conditioned from birth that they weren’t enough without those gains – that some imaginary person was judging their every movement, and threatening them with horrors after this life if they didn’t conform.
I sighed. And these people wondered why their lives weren’t fulfilled, and why they suffered mental and emotional maladies. They were oblivious and had been taught to be.
What was here now was in need of cleansing so that the truth could return. I hoped for them all that it wouldn’t be much longer.
I thought of what story these stones really told, in contrast to all the strange ideas that we come up with to try and explain them. But in truth we don't know. There is a great deal that we don't know. And here I dabble in that.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Truth
It hurt my soul to see it this way, so skeletal. It had been so majestic in its day, and I missed those days sorely. They would now be considered days of hedonism or living in utopia, but they;d been normal back then. Civilisation had been exactly that - civil.
I smiled when I thought about what they said this place had been and the tales they told; they couldn’t be further off the mark. Why was it that anything that couldn’t be explained had to have some strange religious meaning? Why did it always have to be a place of worship or be tied to some other cult rituals?
They had looked round the circle of bare stones that had once been the backbone of an incredible building and noted the sun shined through in certain places at certain times of the year, which seemed to verify to them that that had been the intention of the placement of the stones originally. Apparently it was so they were in alignment and connected to some new fangled idea of religion that existed back then. But as they had no concept of what the original structure had looked like they had no idea how wrong they were – let alone that religion was a new creation in the current civilisation, one used to control people, something completely unnecessary back then. Some days I could laugh at it, but some days it frustrated me.
When I visited other sites across Europe, and talked about similar structures that had once been tombs, they knew that what they were looking at was the bare bones of the structure, so why didn’t they realise that with the stone circles?
They would say it was because there was no ‘evidence’ of anything else. But as they had the aging process wrong and their understanding of time was completely out of whack, they didn’t realise just how old the stones really were, and how long they had been standing there. I did. I felt it in every sinew of my soul. I had lived through so much now and I could feel myself tiring – or was it just this time, this moment, watching civilisation yet again taking a dive and all of them oblivious as to why?
The clock was ticking loud now; if someone didn’t put the brakes on there might be a little bit more than a culling; they risked annihilation at their own hands. Although they were busy squabbling over weapons, thinking that whatever killed them would be man-made, but you didn’t fuck with nature. This was something they had forgotten for more than a couple of thousand years now.
It brought me back full circle to where I was standing; how this place too had fallen and people wiped out. Nature didn’t discriminate, it just abided, come what may.
Their tombs might be found here and there, but once they had been so much more. And these stones, these mini monoliths were all that remained of what had once been a palace – one of hundreds that fell across the landscape and housed the communities that lived in them.
Those communities had relished their life and embraced everyone and everything. It was pitiful to think that it was now being reduced to an obscure fantasy of dogma or doctrine, idolising an imaginary creator, something the people who had lived here would have never perceived.
Those people had been sure of themselves and confident in their pure essence, seeing themselves as pieces of a whole that needed to live symbiotically to enjoy the human experience. Not some individual fracturing to gain more than their neighbour so they could play cruel games of ‘mine’s better than yours’, or conditioned from birth that they weren’t enough without those gains – that some imaginary person was judging their every movement, and threatening them with horrors after this life if they didn’t conform.
I sighed. And these people wondered why their lives weren’t fulfilled, and why they suffered mental and emotional maladies. They were oblivious and had been taught to be.
What was here now was in need of cleansing so that the truth could return. I hoped for them all that it wouldn’t be much longer.
August 15, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 68
This week's pictures is a creation by artist RoadioArts a digital artist from the Philippines. He calls this one: Cadena de Amor. He has some interesting art, many depicting people in anguish. You can check out more of his stuff on his Deviant Art page.
This image encompasses different elements, which together represent the journey of my life over the last 16 years, so I couldn't write it as a fiction tale, only as prose.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Release
I felt stuck. There was no life here. Not for me. Everything was obligation, expectation, and desperation. I felt tied. I couldn’t set myself free. People talked about finding the key, but I couldn’t even find the door. The more I struggled to find a way out, the heavier the chains felt. I was weighted down. I could no longer lift my head, let alone my body.
I withdrew. From the people surrounding me and from the people I’d drawn to me. They held no solutions. They told me not to focus on it. They told me not to think about it. They told me it was all in my head and I was looking at it the wrong way. I moved my head round so much to see it from different perspectives, my neck hurt. In fact it almost broke.
I went away to try and ‘get some perspective’. All I found was emptiness and the obligation to return. There was nothing else. The grass wasn’t greener. I had to water my own. But there were no seeds.
Then one day someone mentioned a place. Not a real place, an illusion of a place, somewhere in the ether. In fact in the Ethernet. It was a void that sometimes spoke back. You followed people and people followed you. You could find people, the right people, people that understood. You could talk and be heard. And talk when you didn’t want to be heard. Yet not a word was spoken only written. It opened a whole new world of possibilities.
A place to dream. A place to create. A place to forget about the obligations and the desperation. A place that made the chains feel temporary and freedom possible. A place of hope. A place carried on the wings of a bird.
This image encompasses different elements, which together represent the journey of my life over the last 16 years, so I couldn't write it as a fiction tale, only as prose.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Release
I felt stuck. There was no life here. Not for me. Everything was obligation, expectation, and desperation. I felt tied. I couldn’t set myself free. People talked about finding the key, but I couldn’t even find the door. The more I struggled to find a way out, the heavier the chains felt. I was weighted down. I could no longer lift my head, let alone my body.
I withdrew. From the people surrounding me and from the people I’d drawn to me. They held no solutions. They told me not to focus on it. They told me not to think about it. They told me it was all in my head and I was looking at it the wrong way. I moved my head round so much to see it from different perspectives, my neck hurt. In fact it almost broke.
I went away to try and ‘get some perspective’. All I found was emptiness and the obligation to return. There was nothing else. The grass wasn’t greener. I had to water my own. But there were no seeds.
Then one day someone mentioned a place. Not a real place, an illusion of a place, somewhere in the ether. In fact in the Ethernet. It was a void that sometimes spoke back. You followed people and people followed you. You could find people, the right people, people that understood. You could talk and be heard. And talk when you didn’t want to be heard. Yet not a word was spoken only written. It opened a whole new world of possibilities.
A place to dream. A place to create. A place to forget about the obligations and the desperation. A place that made the chains feel temporary and freedom possible. A place of hope. A place carried on the wings of a bird.
August 9, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 67
This week's picture is a photo is an unknown. I don't know who took it or where. It appears in a lot of places and goes back a lot of years. But I like it. I thought it could offer some interesting tales.
I had expected my tale to go dark, but I couldn't sustain it, I couldn't do it to my main character. I worry that I am going soft. Either way it's what came from this photo. Hope you like it.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Sustaining The Light
She always saw the best in everything; she always made the dreary bright. She taught me how to look at things through a different lens. Not a rose-tinted one, she insisted, but one where you can make the best of what you have, if not physically, mentally.
I cherished that about her. I would often ask myself, how would Nadia see this? What would she say were the positives here? It helped me appreciate rather than complain; to find contentment over dissatisfaction.
Some would say it was settling, even giving up, but I saw it as embracing and valuing what you have in that moment.
And I valued her. Every day. Every waking hour. Even in my dreams.
And the day she covered the seat on the station platform in flowers when our train was delayed, was the day I knew: she had to be mine, mine forever.
But could someone so beautiful, so gracious, so accepting, relent to be mine? I didn’t know. And in my unknowing I worried about it. And that worry turned to paranoia.
I saw others reacting to her inner light and enjoy it too. I wasn’t the only one that saw it, and loved it. People were drawn to her. I worried that they would woe her and take her away from me. I worried that I would become invisible to her. That she would tire of me. That I would never be enough to sustain her.
How could I keep her? How could I make sure that no one ever took her away from me? There was only one way. I had to take her away, far, far away, and the opportunity arose when I found a job on a distant island.
It wasn’t a fun job, wasn’t even one I had dreamed of – managing a lighthouse in all weathers wasn’t a job that most people coveted, but it would keep us together and people apart.
And I sold it to her, using her own thought process: highlighting all the positives, all the wonderful things we would experience and enjoy, even in this remote location. And the added bonus was that it meant we had to be married, tying her to me, making her my family. It was a joyous day, one where I didn’t mind people basking in her light. It would be the last time after all.
And though I smile now looking back on that wonderful day and the idea I had of making her mine, I look out of the window at her gentle face and wonder what I was thinking. Her smile, along with her laughter, is rarely seen now. And though she is still trying hard to keep looking on the bright side of life, the isolation is affecting her: her light is fading.
I have to steel myself for the truth: I will have to share her if I want to see her light shine again. I am not enough to sustain her - as no one person is enough to sustain another. True love means to set another free and risk losing them. What is life without risk after all?
August 1, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 66
This weeks photo was taken by Terry Yarrow, nicknamed The Dorset Rambler. This is the doorway into the crypt at Hereford Cathedral, taken from inside the crypt. His website doesn't seem to exist anymore, but you can see more of his photos over on flicker (link with his name).
When I started writing this tale, I spooked myself a little bit!
When I started writing this tale, I spooked myself a little bit!
July 30, 2018
Don’t Quit the Day Job - How the day job affects your writing.
Vic Watson put a call out on twitter asking for writers to share how their day job(s) have influenced their writing for a blog series she's writing called Don't Quit the Day Job, and I responded, so here I am am telling people how my work and writing fed one another.
Thanks to Vic for hosting such an interesting blog series.
"I didn’t really think that writing would be something I would take seriously. I started out life wanting to be a film director, I even studied drama at college, but I did write snippets of stories (which would now be called flash fiction) – and one day a friend said they wanted more – a whole novel more, so I thought, how do I make this more?
By this time, after leaving my first job of working back stage in a West End theatre, I had moved into clerical work and it was at my first permanent job working in the office of a shoe factory, processing sales orders that I started to debate how I could turn one particular piece into a bigger story. And then one day the Office Manager, who sat opposite me, laughed at something someone had said. It came out as an effeminate cackle, and with his aged, balding, liver spotted head thrown back the antagonist for my novel was born!
I started that novel in 1991 and it has gone through many incarnations and rewrites, but it is now finally about to be released as a novella in my new science-fiction collection: Slipping Through."
For the rest of the article here.
If you are interested in taking part, just get in touch with Vic Watson either on twitter or via email through her website.
Thanks to Vic for hosting such an interesting blog series.
"I didn’t really think that writing would be something I would take seriously. I started out life wanting to be a film director, I even studied drama at college, but I did write snippets of stories (which would now be called flash fiction) – and one day a friend said they wanted more – a whole novel more, so I thought, how do I make this more?
By this time, after leaving my first job of working back stage in a West End theatre, I had moved into clerical work and it was at my first permanent job working in the office of a shoe factory, processing sales orders that I started to debate how I could turn one particular piece into a bigger story. And then one day the Office Manager, who sat opposite me, laughed at something someone had said. It came out as an effeminate cackle, and with his aged, balding, liver spotted head thrown back the antagonist for my novel was born!
I started that novel in 1991 and it has gone through many incarnations and rewrites, but it is now finally about to be released as a novella in my new science-fiction collection: Slipping Through."
For the rest of the article here.
If you are interested in taking part, just get in touch with Vic Watson either on twitter or via email through her website.
July 25, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 65
This week's picture is by ZedLord-Art - aka Zenad Nabil, a digital Artist from Algeria. He has some interesting art. Go take a look over at his Deviant Art page.
A picture that in some ways already tells a tale, so I thought hard to try and find another angle. It ended up very short, but if you have no words, it tends to be.
A picture that in some ways already tells a tale, so I thought hard to try and find another angle. It ended up very short, but if you have no words, it tends to be.
July 18, 2018
Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 64
This week's photo is of Laura's Bridge, in Goodrich Park, Stockbridge, Berkshire, Massachusetts and managed by the Laura Hill Association. But I was unable to find out who took this photo.
In this sweltering heat I thought a bit of snow was in order. Try and feel that cold air!
I had planned something more serious, but this is what came out. I rather like it.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
The King's Daughters
The person he was tracking was either a fool or setting a trap, either way Rhodri was cautious. But the second set of prints on the bridge confused him. They weren’t significantly smaller – hence a child being carried and then set down – they were the same size. Rhodri didn’t like it. There was something he was missing here.
He continued to follow the footprints into the castle grounds, using them to cover his own tracks. No alarms had been raised at their arrival; could he be wrong in considering them intruders? The Princess had not informed him of any planned visitors, in fact she’d made it clear that no one was to be welcomed without explicit invitation, so who were these people?
The tracks ended abruptly several feet before the entrance into the great hall. Rhodri entered the castle through the servants quarters, swiftly scaling the back stairs to his mistress’s rooms. He needed to be sure she was safe.
He heard raised voices as he approached, and rushed into the room, hand on the hilt of sword ready to defend. But he stopped short, snapping to attention when he saw the back of the King, who was busy admonishing his daughter.
“How could you do this to me Gweneth?”
“This has nothing to do with you, father!” The princess was irate.
“It has everything to do with me. What of the family name?”
“What of it? We must move with the times.”
“Move with the times? Like your security? Your man Rhodri here didn’t even stop my entry.” Rhodri flinched at the insult.
“You were using your magic tricks again though, father, no one could have stopped you. You and that sycophant you carry around like some sort of pet, doing abnormal things.”
“Don’t speak of Hoodwink that way; he has gifts which he has chosen to bestow on his King.”
“His very name describes who he is father, everyone knows that. It’s trickery and deceit, and I won’t be spied on!” The princess stormed to the windows.
“But clearly someone needs to; this marriage will not go ahead!”
Gweneth sighed. “It’s too late father, we are already married.”
The King inhaled bringing himself up to his full height, his face colouring in such a way Rhodri was scared it might actually burst.
“How dare you! Your marriage is not legal without my permission!”
The princess seemed amused at her father’s rage. “What rubbish. Your consent is no longer required.”
“Until your 25thbirthday it is!” Her father was indignant.
The princess dropped her smirk. “So concerned, yet you don’t even know your own daughter’s birthday.”
“Yes I do, it was last week!”
“And my age, daddy?” The King paused; she didn’t wait for a response. “Jasmine is a year younger than I. You always get us mixed up.”
This took the wind out of her father who visibly slumped, moving to the sofa to sit down. The princess joined him, her manner changing to one of appeasement.
“Daddy, you know I was going to choose my own suitor, it was always going to be that way. Ruth might have been happy for you to choose, but not me. And he’s a good man, Daddy, he really is.”
Rhodri felt his chest swell with pride. Gweneth looked at him and beckoned him over.
“Rhodri has been by my side all of my adult life, father, I couldn’t love anyone else.” She put out her hand and Rhodri took it, looking into her eyes and returning the love he saw there.
The King’s mouth dropped open. “I was told it was Malick that you planned to marry.”
“Oh father, no! Malick’s hideous.”
He smiled at Rhodri. “I could always trust Rhodri to keep you safe.”
“Oh he does, Daddy, he does. But who on earth told you it was Malick?”
“Your sister, Jacinta.”
Jacinta? But she’s the one who always fancies Malick. Daddy, are you sure she’s not the one planning to marry him?”
The King looked startled. “Oh my goodness! Of course, she’s sent me on this wild goose chase to divert my attention. I must away. Hoodwink? We must go.”
A tiny man appeared in the corner of the room. Rhodri wondered if he’d been there all along. He ran over to the King and climbed up on his back. The King bent down and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “You have my blessing Gweneth dear, I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
Then he walked to the doorway and disappeared in a blue flash.
In this sweltering heat I thought a bit of snow was in order. Try and feel that cold air!
I had planned something more serious, but this is what came out. I rather like it.
The General Guidelines can be found here.
How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.
There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
The King's Daughters
The person he was tracking was either a fool or setting a trap, either way Rhodri was cautious. But the second set of prints on the bridge confused him. They weren’t significantly smaller – hence a child being carried and then set down – they were the same size. Rhodri didn’t like it. There was something he was missing here.
He continued to follow the footprints into the castle grounds, using them to cover his own tracks. No alarms had been raised at their arrival; could he be wrong in considering them intruders? The Princess had not informed him of any planned visitors, in fact she’d made it clear that no one was to be welcomed without explicit invitation, so who were these people?
The tracks ended abruptly several feet before the entrance into the great hall. Rhodri entered the castle through the servants quarters, swiftly scaling the back stairs to his mistress’s rooms. He needed to be sure she was safe.
He heard raised voices as he approached, and rushed into the room, hand on the hilt of sword ready to defend. But he stopped short, snapping to attention when he saw the back of the King, who was busy admonishing his daughter.
“How could you do this to me Gweneth?”
“This has nothing to do with you, father!” The princess was irate.
“It has everything to do with me. What of the family name?”
“What of it? We must move with the times.”
“Move with the times? Like your security? Your man Rhodri here didn’t even stop my entry.” Rhodri flinched at the insult.
“You were using your magic tricks again though, father, no one could have stopped you. You and that sycophant you carry around like some sort of pet, doing abnormal things.”
“Don’t speak of Hoodwink that way; he has gifts which he has chosen to bestow on his King.”
“His very name describes who he is father, everyone knows that. It’s trickery and deceit, and I won’t be spied on!” The princess stormed to the windows.
“But clearly someone needs to; this marriage will not go ahead!”
Gweneth sighed. “It’s too late father, we are already married.”
The King inhaled bringing himself up to his full height, his face colouring in such a way Rhodri was scared it might actually burst.
“How dare you! Your marriage is not legal without my permission!”
The princess seemed amused at her father’s rage. “What rubbish. Your consent is no longer required.”
“Until your 25thbirthday it is!” Her father was indignant.
The princess dropped her smirk. “So concerned, yet you don’t even know your own daughter’s birthday.”
“Yes I do, it was last week!”
“And my age, daddy?” The King paused; she didn’t wait for a response. “Jasmine is a year younger than I. You always get us mixed up.”
This took the wind out of her father who visibly slumped, moving to the sofa to sit down. The princess joined him, her manner changing to one of appeasement.
“Daddy, you know I was going to choose my own suitor, it was always going to be that way. Ruth might have been happy for you to choose, but not me. And he’s a good man, Daddy, he really is.”
Rhodri felt his chest swell with pride. Gweneth looked at him and beckoned him over.
“Rhodri has been by my side all of my adult life, father, I couldn’t love anyone else.” She put out her hand and Rhodri took it, looking into her eyes and returning the love he saw there.
The King’s mouth dropped open. “I was told it was Malick that you planned to marry.”
“Oh father, no! Malick’s hideous.”
He smiled at Rhodri. “I could always trust Rhodri to keep you safe.”
“Oh he does, Daddy, he does. But who on earth told you it was Malick?”
“Your sister, Jacinta.”
Jacinta? But she’s the one who always fancies Malick. Daddy, are you sure she’s not the one planning to marry him?”
The King looked startled. “Oh my goodness! Of course, she’s sent me on this wild goose chase to divert my attention. I must away. Hoodwink? We must go.”
A tiny man appeared in the corner of the room. Rhodri wondered if he’d been there all along. He ran over to the King and climbed up on his back. The King bent down and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “You have my blessing Gweneth dear, I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
Then he walked to the doorway and disappeared in a blue flash.
July 14, 2018
Slipping Through Release Day!
SLIPPING THROUGH RELEASE DAY!
Today my book Slipping Through is released into the world!It is available on Kindle through Amazon, and Ebook on Smashwords.
I am hoping the print version will go live any day.
Here's a snippet from each story: InterDimensioning
Elise could have believed they’d arrived back home had it not been for the lilac trees that lined it. The trucks and cars parked along it wouldn’t have been out of place in her hometown. But the silence around them spoke of something different.Elise’s grip on Logan’s hand tightened as they began walking. Logan pulled her into the middle of the road, his eyes scanning the trees with suspicion.
They were travelling uphill and when they reached the rise of the road they were greeted with a breathtaking sight: a wide expanse of sea lay in front of them, its waters meeting brilliant white sand. They paused.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Elise asked.
Logan shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
They continued to walk until the tarmac petered out and the sand took over. They made their way to the water’s edge and stood looking out over it. Logan’s head was bowed and Elisa wondered what he was doing. He seemed to be studying the water. She lifted her foot to dip the toe of her shoe into it when he shot out a hand to stop her. She turned to him about to speak, but his finger was on his lips, and he whispered, “Look and listen.”
She stared at the water and waited, but she heard nothing. Then she realised what he meant: there was no sound, no whoosh as the water moved back and forth no matter how big the wave. Then she observed the motion of the water. It wasn’t really back and forth – it was rising and falling.
“Is it water? What is it?” she hissed.
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t touch it if I was you.”
Elise reached down to pick up a small rock next to her right shoe. She glanced at Logan to see if he was watching. She showed him the stone and brought her arm back ready to throw it. He gave a slight nod of approval, so she launched it high into the air.
There was a faint ‘plop’ as it hit the surface, but there was no splash or ripple. They looked at each other wide-eyed.
But then the water did move. It began to retract from the sand, drawing back and gaining height. Logan grabbed Elise’s hand again and stepped back, not daring to take his eyes off the growing mass. Elise moved with him. Her breath caught in her lungs as her mind reeled at what she might have unleashed. But just as they thought they were going to have to run a second time, the water stopped. And then something hit Elise square in the chest.
She let out a startled cry and looked at the ground to see what it was; it was the rock she had thrown. She picked it up and stared at it in amazement, finding the same shock on Logan’s face when she turned to him.
The mass returned to its water-like state and resumed its wave motion as though nothing untoward had taken place.
V.W.G
“Have you any idea how it will show up, Vlad?”
“On the computer it’ll show up in code - you’ll need to run it in DOS - it should be easy to spot. But in the real world? I’ve no idea, Professor. It could be a minor change like a sensation, although if we switch, it should be a lot bigger.”
The professor ran the computer in DOS and the three large screens displayed rows of figures and symbols, some with cursors and question marks at the end. Vladimir joined him and started typing in commands, causing large quantities of data to scroll across the screen. The professor winced at it. “Are you sure it’ll be easy to spot, it looks chaotic to me?”
“You’ll see, I’ll explain it as it runs.”
“And if we switch, what do you think we’ll see?” The professor stepped back from the computer picking up his mug and blowing the mini marshmallows round.
“It could be drastic, like in HG Wells Time Machine; we could end up in a whole new world. Or it could be subtle, like a change of wall colour or something.”
The professor laughed. “I can’t imagine finding ourselves in a jungle. If we’re in a simulation, all the parallels will appear the same, surely? Depending on the cause behind each parallel.”
“Well, we’re assuming the parallels at this point, Professor - more than the sim I think. And that means we could end up anywhere in the world as we know it, without having any relation to a causality difference.”
“What like jumping around the planet or something?”
“Yes, sort of.”
“So we could end up on a beach in Maui, for instance?” The professor took a seat in one of the armchairs scattered around and sat back sipping at his drink.
Vladimir smiled. “We could.”
“Will there be a variant on when?”
“It’s not a time machine Professor, and as far as I’ve been able to tell there is no way of going back to an old sim; they occur in real time. If there is a storage database then I haven’t discovered it yet.” Vladimir continued to type commands into the computer, until eventually the scrolling data became more uniform.
“Is that the mainframe you’ve found there, Vlad?”
“Yes, Professor, I’m in now. When the time comes there’ll be a space between the figures.”
“And what do we need to do?”
“When it scrolls down to here,” Vlad put his finger on one of the screens, “I’ll hit enter.”
The professor waited but Vladimir didn’t continue. “What? That’s all?”
“Yep.” Vladimir picked up his mug of cocoa and started sipping.
“Sounds a bit simple.”“Trust me Professor, getting to this point was anything BUT simple!”
The Game
The man moves round the shop fondling all the shirts down one side, and studies a few as though searching for one in particular. He eventually works his way round to the rack David and Rob are standing at. The assistant pays him no attention, but Rob is watching him, causing David to do the same.
David can only see the bottom half of the man’s face under his hat. He has a long chin with a few days stubble on it. He appears dishevelled as though he’d been in the same clothes for several days, which isn’t exceptional here, but David is transfixed as though compelled to watch his every move.
The man starts to finger the clothes next to David, touching each item and looking hard at the fabric, the brim of his hat almost touching the rack. Then he speaks: “Enjoying the little lapse, are we?”
David stiffens, his eyes moving from the man’s fingers to his face. He expects to see the Jester but instead finds a rugged, middle-aged man. This is not the man he glimpsed in the Bull’s Tavern or in his dreams. The man smiles.
“Don’t look so surprised, David, you knew I was here. Isabella’s rather beautiful, isn’t she? I did enjoy being in her.”
David opens his mouth to speak but he’s at a loss for words.
“Oh come now, so tense? That won’t benefit you. You have to be loose and flexible if you want to catch me.”
This breaks David’s paralysis; he grabs the man’s forearm, but the man only smiles wider and shakes his head.
“No, no, no. As I am, David, as I am.” His eyes start to change. “The man I am currently occupying isn’t much good to you.”
David loosens his grip and the man steps back, his face beginning to change. David glances at Rob whose shocked expression tells him he’s not the only one witnessing this transformation.
The eyes on the man’s face go dark and the skin starts to break up; clumps of pink flesh roll up and drop to the floor revealing the grey taut skin beneath. He opens his mouth exposing rotting teeth and starts to cackle, the laughter growing louder as he walks backwards out of the shop.
David and Rob remain rooted to the spot throughout, until the Jester passes through the doorway. When their paralysis breaks and David realises what he has to do: now the Jester is himself, he has to catch him.
He drops the clothes he’s holding and runs. The Jester is out of sight by the time he reaches the door, but he catches a flash of his coat-tails as he disappears down an alleyway on the left. David gives chase, hearing Rob behind him as they both skid round the corner, sprinting hard until it dawns on them he’s no longer in sight.
David can hear his cackle rising to its screaming crescendo.
“Can you hear it?” he yells at Rob.
“Hear what?”
“His laughter.” David’s pace slows.
“I can’t hear a thing.” Rob comes to a stop, bending over to catch his breath. “Who is he?”
David stops too. “Just a ghost from the past.” The cackle starts to fade.
“What? That’s a pretty lively ghost if you ask me.”
David turns round and starts walking back up the alley.
“
Where are you going?” Rob calls after him.
“To buy those clothes.”
Rob pauses for a moment, blinking, and then follows.
Today my book Slipping Through is released into the world!It is available on Kindle through Amazon, and Ebook on Smashwords.
I am hoping the print version will go live any day.
Here's a snippet from each story: InterDimensioning
Elise could have believed they’d arrived back home had it not been for the lilac trees that lined it. The trucks and cars parked along it wouldn’t have been out of place in her hometown. But the silence around them spoke of something different.Elise’s grip on Logan’s hand tightened as they began walking. Logan pulled her into the middle of the road, his eyes scanning the trees with suspicion.
They were travelling uphill and when they reached the rise of the road they were greeted with a breathtaking sight: a wide expanse of sea lay in front of them, its waters meeting brilliant white sand. They paused.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Elise asked.
Logan shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
They continued to walk until the tarmac petered out and the sand took over. They made their way to the water’s edge and stood looking out over it. Logan’s head was bowed and Elisa wondered what he was doing. He seemed to be studying the water. She lifted her foot to dip the toe of her shoe into it when he shot out a hand to stop her. She turned to him about to speak, but his finger was on his lips, and he whispered, “Look and listen.”
She stared at the water and waited, but she heard nothing. Then she realised what he meant: there was no sound, no whoosh as the water moved back and forth no matter how big the wave. Then she observed the motion of the water. It wasn’t really back and forth – it was rising and falling.
“Is it water? What is it?” she hissed.
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t touch it if I was you.”
Elise reached down to pick up a small rock next to her right shoe. She glanced at Logan to see if he was watching. She showed him the stone and brought her arm back ready to throw it. He gave a slight nod of approval, so she launched it high into the air.
There was a faint ‘plop’ as it hit the surface, but there was no splash or ripple. They looked at each other wide-eyed.
But then the water did move. It began to retract from the sand, drawing back and gaining height. Logan grabbed Elise’s hand again and stepped back, not daring to take his eyes off the growing mass. Elise moved with him. Her breath caught in her lungs as her mind reeled at what she might have unleashed. But just as they thought they were going to have to run a second time, the water stopped. And then something hit Elise square in the chest.
She let out a startled cry and looked at the ground to see what it was; it was the rock she had thrown. She picked it up and stared at it in amazement, finding the same shock on Logan’s face when she turned to him.
The mass returned to its water-like state and resumed its wave motion as though nothing untoward had taken place.
V.W.G
“Have you any idea how it will show up, Vlad?”
“On the computer it’ll show up in code - you’ll need to run it in DOS - it should be easy to spot. But in the real world? I’ve no idea, Professor. It could be a minor change like a sensation, although if we switch, it should be a lot bigger.”
The professor ran the computer in DOS and the three large screens displayed rows of figures and symbols, some with cursors and question marks at the end. Vladimir joined him and started typing in commands, causing large quantities of data to scroll across the screen. The professor winced at it. “Are you sure it’ll be easy to spot, it looks chaotic to me?”
“You’ll see, I’ll explain it as it runs.”
“And if we switch, what do you think we’ll see?” The professor stepped back from the computer picking up his mug and blowing the mini marshmallows round.
“It could be drastic, like in HG Wells Time Machine; we could end up in a whole new world. Or it could be subtle, like a change of wall colour or something.”
The professor laughed. “I can’t imagine finding ourselves in a jungle. If we’re in a simulation, all the parallels will appear the same, surely? Depending on the cause behind each parallel.”
“Well, we’re assuming the parallels at this point, Professor - more than the sim I think. And that means we could end up anywhere in the world as we know it, without having any relation to a causality difference.”
“What like jumping around the planet or something?”
“Yes, sort of.”
“So we could end up on a beach in Maui, for instance?” The professor took a seat in one of the armchairs scattered around and sat back sipping at his drink.
Vladimir smiled. “We could.”
“Will there be a variant on when?”
“It’s not a time machine Professor, and as far as I’ve been able to tell there is no way of going back to an old sim; they occur in real time. If there is a storage database then I haven’t discovered it yet.” Vladimir continued to type commands into the computer, until eventually the scrolling data became more uniform.
“Is that the mainframe you’ve found there, Vlad?”
“Yes, Professor, I’m in now. When the time comes there’ll be a space between the figures.”
“And what do we need to do?”
“When it scrolls down to here,” Vlad put his finger on one of the screens, “I’ll hit enter.”
The professor waited but Vladimir didn’t continue. “What? That’s all?”
“Yep.” Vladimir picked up his mug of cocoa and started sipping.
“Sounds a bit simple.”“Trust me Professor, getting to this point was anything BUT simple!”
The Game
The man moves round the shop fondling all the shirts down one side, and studies a few as though searching for one in particular. He eventually works his way round to the rack David and Rob are standing at. The assistant pays him no attention, but Rob is watching him, causing David to do the same.
David can only see the bottom half of the man’s face under his hat. He has a long chin with a few days stubble on it. He appears dishevelled as though he’d been in the same clothes for several days, which isn’t exceptional here, but David is transfixed as though compelled to watch his every move.
The man starts to finger the clothes next to David, touching each item and looking hard at the fabric, the brim of his hat almost touching the rack. Then he speaks: “Enjoying the little lapse, are we?”
David stiffens, his eyes moving from the man’s fingers to his face. He expects to see the Jester but instead finds a rugged, middle-aged man. This is not the man he glimpsed in the Bull’s Tavern or in his dreams. The man smiles.
“Don’t look so surprised, David, you knew I was here. Isabella’s rather beautiful, isn’t she? I did enjoy being in her.”
David opens his mouth to speak but he’s at a loss for words.
“Oh come now, so tense? That won’t benefit you. You have to be loose and flexible if you want to catch me.”
This breaks David’s paralysis; he grabs the man’s forearm, but the man only smiles wider and shakes his head.
“No, no, no. As I am, David, as I am.” His eyes start to change. “The man I am currently occupying isn’t much good to you.”
David loosens his grip and the man steps back, his face beginning to change. David glances at Rob whose shocked expression tells him he’s not the only one witnessing this transformation.
The eyes on the man’s face go dark and the skin starts to break up; clumps of pink flesh roll up and drop to the floor revealing the grey taut skin beneath. He opens his mouth exposing rotting teeth and starts to cackle, the laughter growing louder as he walks backwards out of the shop.
David and Rob remain rooted to the spot throughout, until the Jester passes through the doorway. When their paralysis breaks and David realises what he has to do: now the Jester is himself, he has to catch him.
He drops the clothes he’s holding and runs. The Jester is out of sight by the time he reaches the door, but he catches a flash of his coat-tails as he disappears down an alleyway on the left. David gives chase, hearing Rob behind him as they both skid round the corner, sprinting hard until it dawns on them he’s no longer in sight.
David can hear his cackle rising to its screaming crescendo.
“Can you hear it?” he yells at Rob.
“Hear what?”
“His laughter.” David’s pace slows.
“I can’t hear a thing.” Rob comes to a stop, bending over to catch his breath. “Who is he?”
David stops too. “Just a ghost from the past.” The cackle starts to fade.
“What? That’s a pretty lively ghost if you ask me.”
David turns round and starts walking back up the alley.
“
Where are you going?” Rob calls after him.
“To buy those clothes.”
Rob pauses for a moment, blinking, and then follows.
