Category Archives: Temperatures rising

Sue Vincent’s #Thursdayphotoprompt #Writephoto

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Princess Murano

her face framed in furnace fire

slowly raised her eyes

memories of fragrant blooms

fragile, fading, as of glass

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Filed under As you read it, Otherworldly, Self compositions, Tanka, Temperatures rising

First Line Friday: January 4th, 2019

The borderlands grew wider and wilder every year. Old Seth had had plenty of years in which to note the changes. Now he felt tired. Of working, of the burning desert sun, of his aching limbs, failing eyesight and his life in general. 

Every year there were more repairs needed in the shack and since his two, now adult boys never thought to visit no-one was able to give him a hand. Neighbors never called, in fact it had only just dawned on him that he had no neighbors. The encroaching desert sands and ever increasing summer temperatures had cleared the land far more thoroughly than a team of property developers ever could.

He was beginning to regret the lack of trees. Nowhere to organise a good hanging, even if it was your own. He sat down on one of the scorched boulders and idly ran the sand through his fingers, perhaps he could will himself to death in the way the old occupiers  of the land did.

Resolved to try he closed his eyes.

Whether by accident or design the midday sun saved him the effort. Four days later the body was discovered when a real estate team happened to be passing on their way to his farm.

 

 

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Filed under As you read it, dystopian view, Flash fiction, Self compositions, Temperatures rising

Sue Vincent’s #Thursday photo prompt: Setting #writephoto

And all those gathered on the Plain of Saarkand breathed a sigh of relief as one.

For as they looked to the East, the first rays of the New Sun arose over the hill that was called The Old Maid’s breast.
The harsh days of the cold season were past until the dark days arrived once more, as ordained by the Spirits of Earth and Sky.

With the rising of the sun the dark shadow of the beast, which the more superstitious among them had perceived as Kerhaan, the Dragon of Darkness, began to fade and crumble into glowing silver clouds. Soon to fall as life-giving rain on the high mountains. The rivers would flow freely once more down to the barren plain.

So would begin the new life phase.

Encouraged by the daily, ever-rising heat of the sun and the watering of the beast’s blood the farmers could once more begin the tilling of the earth and the sowing of the seed.

The Elders would continue to offer the sacrifice to the Ancestors and if they were not displeased once more would they fill the grain stores and feed their flocks.

Life for all would be good again.

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Filed under Alternative history, As you read it, Flash fiction, nature inspired, Old knowledge, Self compositions, Temperatures rising

#Alphabet haiku ‘W’

Woefully we watch

worldwide waters warm within,

wandering whales weep

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Filed under As you read it, dystopian view, History, nature inspired, Self compositions, Temperatures rising

MLMM’s #Heeding haiku with Chevrefueille November 28 2018 long night (yonaga)

cold fur-lined branches

weep in the gaze of the sun

elements battle

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Filed under Haiku, nature inspired, Self compositions, Temperatures rising

Q haiku

Morning frost has cleared

golden boughs implore  blue sky

warming Winter sun

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Filed under Factual, Haiku, nature inspired, Self compositions, Temperatures rising

Sue Vincent’s magical #Thursday photo prompt: Glimmer #writephoto

distant-lights

I gazed at the ashen faces and tired expressions of my companions. For three days we had been hiding atop this rocky outcrop. Shivering  in the dark of the cold nights and crouched among the rocks by day, reluctant to light a fire for food and warmth in case of discovery. We had seen no aircraft overhead for the last forty-eight  hours which we all agreed may have been a good sign or perhaps a sign of something worse to come.

Far below, the dark, oily, clouds of smoke drifted lazily across the plain where only a few days before there had been green, lush fields and trees. Now all was a scorched , brown, devastated wasteland.

There was no way of knowing if it would be safe to descend and although we could obtain fresh water from  the numerous springs our food supplies were running low and would soon be extinguished.

There was still no phone signal and the batteries would soon be running out leaving only the radio from which we had heard nothing since we saw the bright glow in the Eastern sky with the ominous mushroom shaped cloud that could only have meant one thing.. We could only hope that there were others down below but it had all happened so fast that we could not be sure we were not the only survivors.

Had we few not been members of this expedition we also would have been victims of the catastrophe. unleashed in such a brief time.

We decided to take a vote on finding volunteers to make a descent into the valley. This would be the only way to check if there was a glimmer of hope for our and the rest of mankind’s survival.

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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

Sue Vincent’s #Thursday photo prompt: Pillars #writephoto, Pyroplastic surge

pillars

It was frustrating. For two days we had been sitting down in the hot, humid cellar. Our wine was warm, our food was cold. At least we could breathe down here, unlike in the street above. The choking fumes clogged our nostrils, the tiny wind-blown cinders got into our throats. Everyone was coughing and the stench was unbearable.

From what they said it seemed to be getting worse outside. Last night only a few of us had come down but today more and more people started arriving. Most had not brought anything down with them in their panic. They were just concerned with getting away from the ash cloud that sat like a dragon atop the hill. The very ground had started to groan and shudder as if all the denizens of the underworld were on the move.

My father had told us that we need not worry as this had happened many times before.He stayed in the villa thinking that it would soon pass but the Gods appeared to be really angry this time. No-one was sure how to placate them. Even the priests from the temple had decided to join us.

As the daylight, what there was of it, due to the sun having been smothered by the dark cloud, began to fade for the second day we heard a strange noise. It was like a low moaning and it seemed to be getting louder.

I shouted for everyone to be quiet and as our babble subsided we realised that the sound was coming from a great wind that was flowing through the passageways. Some of the women started to wail and before long both men and women started to sob as we realised something terrible was about to happen. Strangely there was no panic and I could hear my companions starting incantations. Before long even the chanting ceased.

Wrapping my cloak around my shoulders \I took my wife and daughter in my arms. We huddled against the wall and the stifling air grew steadily hotter. I can write no more. I will sleep and hopefully return to my beloved Pompeii home in the morning.

 

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Filed under As you read it, Factual, Flash fiction, History, Self compositions, Temperatures rising

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, #First Line Fridays

Egypt (230)

The sun simmered red as it slunk towards the jagged horizon. Nightfall always followed shortly after the sun set in the desert wastes. Janvers  knew that if he and his companions did not pitch their  camp shortly it would become too cold for them to survive. No-one without desert experience would believe that after the baking temperatures of the day the desert could become so cold at night. The tall, minaret-like pinnacles in the distance were giant outcrops of red sandstone that formed pillars stretching high into the cloudless sky. If they were lucky they would be able to shelter in the caves found at the base of these towers. If not they might provide tethering  points for their single tarpaulin. 

Pausing in his forced trek Janvers suddenly motioned for everyone to stop and be quiet. Turning his head from side to side he listened intently, looking round them in all directions. It was unmistakable. To the West, where the red disc of the sun was casting it’s last glow in the darkening twilight sky there was a faint sound. It was a monotone, low, moaning that was  not the sound of any animal. He felt a slight lifting of the breeze and he was sure he could just make out low eddies like miniature typhoons in the sand  between them and the mountains. There was no doubt in his mind, a storm was coming.

The thing that all desert dwellers and travellers dread, a sandstorm. They often came without warning and could last for days or just stop within minutes as abruptly as they started. He knew that they would have to run, to try and gain the shelter of the rocks. If it was a full storm they would stand no chance of survival if caught out in  the middle of the rippled, sandy plain. Trying not to show panic but emphasising the urgency he cajoled his team to start running across the soft treacherous sand.

After only a few minutes  the wind was noticeably stronger. This served as a hastener to the team of semi-exhausted men. Their feet were leaden and every step became harder as the wind pushed into their faces. By sheer bad luck that was the only direction they would gain any shelter. Janvers felt the coarse sand granules whipping his face. He wound the blanket tighter around his neck and struggled on. He could not afford to show any weakness in front of his team.

Twilight is brief in the desert and there was now no distinction between the sky and the rocks ahead. Their only guide was to try and remember the star formations that were beginning to appear overhead. The sound of the wind increased in line with it’s strength. Janvers kept up his exhortations depite his own flagging strength. The ground started to  get  harder beneath his feet and he knew that they were no longer trying to run on sand but stone. This could only mean that they  were close to the base  of the  hills. Almost too dark to see more than forty paces in front the wall of stones loomed like a black, empty void ahead. To their left was a gigantic boulder which leaned at an ominous angle. It was enough  to offer some shelter to the three men.

They crouched at it’s base and with heavy blankets wrapped around them prepared to sit out the storm. Their only hope was  that it would be brief. Within twenty minutes they detected a lessening of the wind. The rushing sound akin to a passing express train faltered and stopped almost in an instant. Looking out they  could make out  the flat landscape illuminated by a rising moon. The sand flurries ceased and all was quiet once more. In silent prayer the team relaxed and smiled, each with their own thoughts. After a short time of this meditation they huddled together prepared to discuss their course of action for the remaining hours of darkness and the next day. Janvers knew that once past this range of hills there were  only a few kilometres before they crossed the range of dunes known as the Sea of Sand and they would be safe on the Namibian coast. 

  

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