Daily Picspiration - A New King

My Daily Picspiration went up on Sunday. The third and final piece of a story set in India, about a local monachy and the change in reign. I have really enjoyed writing this small tale, covering an area and location I know little about, and doing a touch of research to back it up.

Posted on December 7th, you can read 'A New King' here.

Drunken Sailer - Halloween Edition MWBB

Today the results were finally in for the Halloween edition of Mid-Week Blues-Buster which was held at the end of October. (My story didn't rank). MWBB has been on haitus over November due to NaNoWriMo (National November Writing Month), but today Jeff Tsuruoka, who hosts it, relaunched it all.

The song for Halloween was an odd one (as Jeff is prone to using), being a twist of Irish music mixed with Turkish lilts, so it lent a strange 'bend' to the story. I also included the band members, because, well they're The Pogues, and there's nothing else quite like them! Enjoy!

The prompt song for Halloween week was:

 The Turkish Song of the Damned, by The Pogues

The curtains round her bed blew out slowly as they picked up a sea-breeze, and strains of the evening music played for the hotel guests below, reached Larissa as her doze wore off.

She sat up and slipped off the satin bed sheets, wrapping herself up in the complementary silken robe her five star room offered, and grabbed a piece of complementary Turkish delight on her way to the balcony, savouring the excessive sweetness in her mouth, mixed with the exotic lemon.

The sea view was magnificent at this time of night; the eastern stars shinning down, unaffected by the hotel lighting, which were dimmed by colourful lanterns, celebrating a festival she knew little about.

She couldn’t be further away from her homeland, either physically or culturally. The hot climes of an arid land contrasted the wet, greenery of her Gaelic heritage; the music, reedy and enthralling, unlike the jigs that moved her fellow countryman. She felt safe at last, away from the memories, away from the emotions of the last year and all its complications.

That’s what she called them: complications. She wasn’t ready to admit to herself the truth of what had transpired, and with this holiday, this little treat to herself, she planned on distancing herself further.

She looked out at the water, wondering at its temperature as she saw people at its edge. Were they swimming? Surely not at this late hour. But they seemed to be coming out, four of them, and fully dressed too.

Larissa watched them come up the beach, walking stiffly in their wet clothing. There was something familiar about their shapes and their gaits, and her stomach clenched as it triggered a memory, one she’d been trying to bury.

She struggled to swallow the last of the Turkish delight, which stuck in her throat as the figures came under the perimeter lights of the hotel and the face of the tallest was lit up. She stood transfixed as they came to a stop and all looked up at her.

Her mind refused to accept what she was seeing, until the tallest one opened his mouth to speak; his rotting teeth confirming his identity and filling her soul with dread.

She felt the fight or flight sensation run through her, but her feet wouldn’t move, and even at this distance she heard the words he formed through his long dead mouth.

“We’ve come back for ‘ya.”

Larissa shut her eyes and rubbed them, thinking maybe she was dreaming, but they were still there when she opened them – and she was sure, a step closer.

She looked from one face to the other; Jem, Spider, Fernley, and her one time love, Shane, all dressed as they had been that fateful drunken night when they had decided to take out her father’s boat. She had promised them she could sail it, even four sheets to the wind, but when they had gone further out, the waves had gotten up and she hadn’t been able to keep it steady.

She had frozen then, as she was frozen now, and clung to the tiny mast while the waves had buffeted the boat on all sides. She’d refused to crawl into the cabin and SOS for help on the radio, or throw out life rings as each one had tumbled overboard, their drunken state only helping the sea take them faster.

She’d been found the next morning by the lifeguards, still holding on, and to this day they believed she’d been alone. Larissa had said nothing to change that – even actively encouraging the rumours that the others had gone off travelling, on one of their drunken benders.

And maybe they had been, but they were back, and Shane was beckoning to her. This time her frozen state wasn’t going to save her.

 

Daily Picspiration - Passing the Crown

My Daily Picspiration went up on Sunday. This is a follow on to the last one, 'Birth Right', and it came out quite easily. I'm not sure if I will continue it yet, but I do like how this story and characters are coming. Enjoy.

Posted on November 23rd, you can read 'Passing the Crown' here.

Horror Bites - Trapped

This Horror Bites photo prompt seemed very 'obvious' and I struggled with coming up with something original - although all the others who have participated so far have managed some quite unique, and very scary. In the end this is what I came up with. Hope it works.

 

 

Melissa woke up to pitch black. She tried to sit up, but bashed her head on something. She thought maybe she’d collapsed on the bottom bunk of her son’s bed, then remembered he’d left home last year and they hadn’t had bunk beds since he was ten.

She waited for her eyes to adjust, but they didn’t; there was no light. She reached her hands up and struck something solid just a few inches above her. She reached out to the sides and the same thing happened.

She felt panic rise in her chest, trying to recall the last thing she remembered. It was hard; her mind felt fuzzy, unclear, there was a lot of resistance, like a hangover.

There’d been a delivery of furniture at the garden centre. She’d been moving one of the combi garden bench-boxes out onto the display. Russell had been there. She remembered because he always gave her the creeps. His smile was disturbing and he was always watching, waiting for her to notice him. She shuddered even now in the box.

Melissa pushed up hard, but there was no movement. Her panic increased. She scratched at the sides, but it was hard plastic, confirming her suspicions that she was inside one of the combi boxes.

She started shouting and bashing harder, but she knew no one would hear her. It had been after closing on Sunday when she’d been setting up the display; the garden centre wasn’t open on Monday’s. She had no idea how long she’d been in here already, but she started to feel breathless. Whether it was panic or lack of air in the box she wasn’t sure. 

She felt her mind swoon. She was losing consciousness. An image popped into her head of her limp arm hanging out of the box while her raw fingers dripped blood onto the concrete floor. “If only,” she mumbled. It could be months before they found her. 

323 Words

Thursday Threads entry - 'Trading'

It has been a long time, a little over a year, since I have entered a piece for the Thursday Threads flash fiction contest, hosted by Siobhan Muir, so I was completely surprised to find that it yielded an Honourable Mention!

It is a word prompt, and these days I tend to be drawn to more visual inspiration. But I always check and have a read, and with this one the story appeared immediately.



Trading

Padrov pulled the car into the secluded parking lot, and spotted the battered brown Datsun straight away. He thought they’d drive something better than that with what they made.

He parked on the opposite side, wanting to keep his distance, and glanced in the rear view mirror at the round, terrified eyes looking back at him. He felt the sweat on his palms prickle.

Then he glanced at the woman squashed into the footwell behind the passenger seat, and she glanced back, her hands never leaving the knees of the two little boys.

Padrov killed the engine and waited. Someone got out of the Datsun. When they turned to face him, Padrov’s fear turned to rage. He knew this man. He was a teacher. His stomach churned at the thought of how many children he’d come into contact with.

Padrov breathed, opening his door slowly, and resisted the urge to scratch the wire under his shirt.

When they had both moved forward, the man jerked his head at the two small faces in the back of Padrov’s car.

“I’d like to see what I’m buying.”

“Not yet. Show me the money first.” Padrov was firm.

The man took out a buddle of notes and fanned them.

Padrov nodded. “Good, you have enough.”

With the key words triggered, sirens blared and blue lights lit up the car park, not giving the man time to turn round. Padrov didn’t say any more, only spat as his feet at he was taken away. 

Daily Picspiration - Birth Right

My Daily Picspiration went up on Sunday. It took me a while to know where I wanted this to go. I had the opening, but I struggled to see past it. Now I can't decide if I want to go further with this. We will see what the next round of pictures bring. It is also a different subject matter, or type of story for me - although I quite like that. I hope you enjoy.

Posted on November 9th, you can read 'Birth Right' here.



 

Passing Souls - Published in Sirens Call eZine

Issue #17 of the eZine from Sirens Call Publications has just been released, with the theme 'Trick or Treat' for Halloween. And my little tale is in there, along with one from my friend Laura James.

You will find my piece 'Passing Souls' on Page 46.

As always with this ezine, the stories are not for the faint-hearted, and the good thing is that it is free to download, so no excuse, go and read it now!