Monthly Archives: October 2018

Portent of frost on an October evening

Fading to dull grey,

like old snow, a halo forms

in spiralling clouds.

Whiter yet the smiling disc

of the  early evening moon.

 

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Filed under nature inspired, Self compositions, Tanka

Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt: Bone #writephoto

skull

Over the western hills the sparse, silver clouds are tinged with  red. The sun, not yet set gives up it’s daily battle with the revolving Earth.

A slight breeze starts vibrations in the tall grass heads previously still  in  the heat of the day as the first chill wind from the shore  heralds the onset of evening.

The rain-washed,  sun-bleached skull lies on the path of low foot-worn grass between the heather tussocks.

Tonight there will be no moon to cast it’s glow over the silent tors. The evening air remains curiously warm, almost sultry.

Imperceptibly, as if guided by some gentle, unseen hand the skullbone is turne to face the darkening  Eastern sky. d

In the distance,  a low unearthly sound as of the moaning of the wind in the mast of a storm-tossed sailing vessel can just be heard. The skull shudders and begins to roll to the side of the path.  Like the growth of moss but vastly accelerated, a black downy growth begins to form a shadow on the stark, white surface. The black down grows longer until it resembles the short, thick fur of a dog. An impression helped by the impression of long limbs and thickset body of a hound which appear  to be forming around the single skull.

At last there stands a large hound. Saliva drips from the muzzle as the jaws open showing a row of strong teeth where once were just sockets. Red, unblinking eyes like cinders stare out as snorting nostrils flare and a snarl escapes the shaking head.

Darkness reigns but the black fur is embued with a dull, green lustre. If anyone was near they would start to sense a foetid smell,  increasing in strength with each shake of the thick flanks.

While out over the darkening hills the previous low moaning is now distinguishable as the baying of  a pack of hounds.

The newly reborn beast raises it’s head turning to the right and left. Upraised newly grown ears point straight up, cocked, listening.

With a snarl and a huge leap the beast  runs off in the direction of the approaching pack.

Across the moor a dark-cloaked rider sits atop a heavy black steed. His hood rolls back  allowing a glimpse of a white, gaunt cadaver-like grin. He frowns. he struggles to control his rearing horse, while in his free hand he holds a horse-whip which with every flick emits a stream  of red and gold sparks. Around the horse’s  feet a pack  of identical black hounds snarl, circle and fight, cowering  at every crack.

Soon the pack will be complete again and the Heath hounds will start their nightly hunt seeking out the souls of the wicked.

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Filed under As you read it, Flash fiction, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, Otherworldly, Self compositions

Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt: Faraway #writephoto

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I walked back down to the slipway at first light. As expected there was only one reminder of our work from the night before, at the last low tide. Of course none of us could be sure if the Gods had smiled favourably upon Ulrika and allowed her to escape ready to rejoin the world of men.

Not that she could come back into our community. The prejudice of the villagers was too great. Many of the young men would be unhappy that she had been taken from us before she had given her acceptance of a marriage proposal.

Apart from the memory of her long, flowing, red hair nothing was allowed to remain in the minds of men. Her name could not  be spoken. Her supposed crime never again mentioned unless as a warning to naughty children who failed to eat their meals or refused to carry out their chores.

Elder brothers and sisters would frighten their younger siblings by telling them she was hiding under the beds, as older children do.

I was saddened for I did not believe the tales they told of her. That is why I had returned to the place of the crabs. I was not disappointed. if the Gods had not intervened then overnight the crabs and fish had done their work.

The white rock which had been  so carefully  placed upon her bare chest sat lonely in it’s place. No scrap of flesh or bone remained. Picked clean by snapping claws and teeth.

Ulrika was now far away, either in the hands of Gods or men and I would be the only one who would feel remorse.

 

 

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Filed under Alternative history, As you read it, Flash fiction, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, Self compositions

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #222 Breath&Unite

Do not waste your breath

asking peoples to unite

fear and conquest works

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#Weekly Tanka Prompt #Poetry Challenge – Week 116 – Endangered & Animals

Plastic filled oceans,

deadly toxins in the air,

by the hand of man

the whole of life endangered,

who then are the animals

 

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Filed under As you read it, From the heart, Inspired emotion, nature inspired, Self compositions, Tanka

#FirstlineFriday

Amber light streamed down from the arched windows, splattering the altar and their upturned faces. The priest held the ornate, silver chalice in both hands and raised it above his head. His low, droning incantation repeated by his two surplice-clad assistants. 

All three turned to face the expectant congregation. Already a queue had formed for the communion ritual. The first communicants already knelt before the screen that separated them from the Holy of holies.

The three officiates moved towards the kneeling line with their platters of communion wafers and wine chalice.

As the priest leaned forward he lurched and trying to grasp the arm of his assistant he dropped the wine chalice to the stone floor before collapsing with his hands clasped to his breast. A red stain slowly spread across the flagstones as the echo of the falling cup died away.

Cries of alarm and shock escaped the stunned congregation.

All except one.

A tall, strangely pale figure got up from his seat at the back of the nave and laughed. Placing his black cape over his shoulders he skipped to the door and exited.

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Filed under As you read it, Christian, faith, Flash fiction, Self compositions, Submission calls, Uncategorized

Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge Energy & Value

When you find you can

greet each new day with vigour,

realise your worth

then, though there are challenges,

they will not overwhelm you

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Flash Fiction February 2019 from Fictive Dream

The submissions window for Fictive Dream’s Flash Fiction February 2019 is now open. 

During Flash Fiction February we will feature a new piece of flash fiction throughout February 2019. That’s a new story, every day, starting on 1 February for the entire month. As always we’re interested in stories with a contemporary feel.

We’ve put a squeeze on our usual word count though, so only stories of between 200 – 750 words please.

Read our Flash Fiction February submission guidelines here.

Check out the Fictive Dream website here.

For those of you who prefer to write longer stories we remain open to standard submissions (500 – 2,500 words). 

We’re looking forward to receiving your best work!

Laura Black
Editor

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Filed under Events and diary dates, Re-blogged, Submission calls

RonovanWrites Weekly #Haiku #Poetry #Challenge #221 Peace&Love

When the pair made love

the neighbours could get no peace

a hard loving man

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Filed under As you read it, Haiku, No offence intended, Self compositions, Temperatures rising, Whimsical