Daily Picspiration - Provisions

My Daily Picspiration went up on Sunday. The photos weren't that helpful to them actually getting up into the mountains, so I lingered, doing a bit more character development and story building. I was also surprised that the story lent to the second photo and not the first. I am not quite sure what I am going to do with this or how long I am going to keep with it, but I am certainly setting some ground work. It's interesting to do as a writer.

Posted on March 1st, you can read Part 5 - 'Provisions' here. 

You can read Part 4 - 'Moving Out' here.
You can read Part 3 - 'New Recruit' here.
You can read Part 2 - New Location here. 
You can read Part 1 - Frozen here.

Visual Dare - Elite

Due to work I am late with getting my Visual Dare written and linked up. But the picture was so compelling I couldn't miss it. This is what it said to me.

Porter looked out across the tangled grounds that surrounded their ancestral home, and sighed. He wished it still looked as grand as it did in its hay day when dignitaries would come and pay their respects, occasionally bringing gifts and reminding them how special they were. He missed feeling important, despite not actually having done much to earn it.

Their name had had clout, but that was about all, besides a house full of antique assets. And that too, was long gone now, having been sold off to the highest bidder.

He’d watched it all from the top window, which overlooked the courtyard where their contents had been laid bare. He’d seen the greedy faces of their rivals snap up the best, and been powerless to stop it. Now he was interred in the family burial plot, the last of the line to join his ancestors, he was physically unable.

150 Words

Five Sentence Fiction - Forgotten

Another Five Sentence Fiction that needed to be written for, the photo encompassing the word prompt well. 

 

She curled up in a ball so no one could see her - although it didn’t matter because they never saw her anyway, much like when she had lived at home; only visible when they wanted her to be a tool in an argument, a sounding board for an emotional dump, or an excuse for their pain.

She rocked back and forth, the rhythm bringing comfort, bringing calm, bringing solace.

Her eyes fell on the umbrella, all beaten up and discarded alone in the middle of the street, pieces sticking out, bent and broken, ripped and torn.

In that moment it was a kindred spirit understanding her more than any living thing ever had. She only wished she could be as inanimate and free of feeling. 

Found - MWBB

This was for last weeks Mid-Week Blues-Buster which saw one of the largest turnouts of entries. I liked the song but struggled to really find something that fit for me, but when I started writing this little apocalyptic tale came out. 

The prompt song was:

Faded Flowers, by Shriekback

Gavin pulled the blanket up over her face, trying to feel something, but only numbness came. There was so much death now it was hard to have any other reaction. Then he stood and viewed the barren room, walking over the bare concrete floor to the window, where he looked out over the dead city. He had to get out of here; he knew that; the clock was ticking. He could hear it in his head.

He glanced back at Trisha’s body. He still couldn’t bring an emotion. They both knew she was going to succumb, and he did the right thing finding this quiet place for her to pass, but now what? Was he next? He didn’t feel it; he felt okay.

He had to go, but he lingered. He might not be able to feel sadness or love, but leaving Trish here, it felt wrong. But where was there to bury someone in a city? An empty city at that – well empty of people, you couldn’t move for debris.

He went back over to her body and squatted down. He pulled the blanket back again and looked at her silent face. He brushed a finger along her white cheek, and bent down to kiss it. The only thing he felt was a hole, a big empty hole in his gut. He was alone now.

He flicked the blanket back and left the apartment without allowing a further thought.

He took the stairs, running down them at high speed, so the twenty-five flights went by fast, allowing his mind to become a blur along with the stairwell.

At the bottom he pushed out into the street and stood completely still. Waiting. He could hear the wind, and the debris being tossed around by it, and a banging from a loose door a few blocks down, but there were no deliberate sounds, either human or animal.

Everything was gone, and he had to go too.

He looked around at the cars all bunched up in the roads and started jogging along the streets he knew would take him out, watching the jams thicken, observing how the human race was so predictable.

When he reached the outskirts he stopped, the road ahead a trail of yet more vehicles, and considered what to do. That was when he heard it, a light tapping.

It was several cars ahead before he spotted the movement, and he debated whether to go over – did he want to see? But he knew he had to.

At the back window was a small face, a boy, trapped, but alive. For the first time in days he felt something rise inside him, something positive, something desperate, and he started yanking and kicking at the crumpled door. It wasn’t going to give.

He looked around at the debris on the ground and found a good size rock with a sharp point. The boy saw him and moved back. Gavin smashed at the window, remembering to aim for the bottom corner as that was where they said it would most likely break in an emergency. When it popped it brought with it a gush of rotten air from inside. Gavin resisted moving back from it, instead reaching in to grab the boy who reached for him and pull him out. He stumbled back as he pulled him out and they both fell, the boy on top of him, but neither let go as though afraid to, clinging to the life they had found.

Eventually the boy pulled up and looked up at Gavin with delight, but also caution.

“I’m David,” he croaked, his throat dry from days trapped in the car.

“I’m Gavin,” Gavin replied, also through a croaky voice. His emotions had finally kicked in.

Visual Dare - Tempest

Another Visual Dare that can not be missed! Although it took me a long time to get the word count to work for me. 

Emily came rushing in.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!”

Sasha ran over and peered at the dark cloud in the jar. She reached out to touch the glass, but a flash of lightning made pull back. “Oh wow, you did too!”

“You can’t keep it.” Augustine came marching over.

“Can too!” Emily pulled the jar away as Augustine tried to take it.

“You can not! JohnQuin will be in SO much trouble if you do!”

“Serves him right for teasing me with it.”

“But Emily he’ll get in trouble with King Ravi.” Sasha had witnessed the Fairy King’s wrath when his underlings exposed their enchantments to outsiders.  

“So? I caught it, it’s mine.”

Augustine lunged at Emily and snatched it away. “Witches can not keep hold of a tempest, it’s dangerous. I’m taking it back.”

Emily screeched in frustration at Augustine as she strode out of the cottage. 

149 Words

In the Dark - MWBB

This was for last weeks Valentine's Day Mid-Week Blues-Buster edition, the song provoked a rather intense piece from me, which had been crying even as I wrote it. I didn't really see it as relating to Valentine's Day, but it is about love, and loss.

The prompt song was:

In the Dark by Tracey Chapman

She pushed herself into the corner between the bedside table and wicker chair in the bedroom. She clasped her hands tight round her knees, bringing them up to her chin and rocked, back and forth, back and forth. The tears left her eyes and her soul as they coursed down her face, but she didn’t heed them. She stared straight ahead remembering, recalling every image and every smell, every touch. She had to gasp for air and let her stomach hitch, but otherwise no sound left her. The scream that raged through her was as silent as her rocking.

She heard the front door crash downstairs and a deep voice shout her name, “Phillipa!” She heard mumbling, even a scuffle in the hallway, but it was broken by the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs. The bedroom door crashed open, and in a softer tone, “Phillipa!” was uttered, as a body rushed round the room to her.

Big arms reached for her, as her saviour slumped down on the floor in front of her. And she shuffled forward into them, letting them embrace and comfort her. Then the sound came to her cry, a wail escaping her lips, as they rocked together. She could feel the dampness seep from his eyes onto her hair and face. He nuzzled closer into her neck as her howl became louder, his hand caressing the back of her head, wanting her to stop, but knowing she couldn’t.

She might never be able to again.

After some time that seemed endless, and her cry had reduced to weeping, there was a light knock on the bedroom door frame. Paul lifted his head. She felt a slight nod for whoever stood there. She heard the shuffle of several people coming into the room, but she didn’t want to remove her face from the safety of Paul’s shoulders. She didn’t want to open her eyes and see. It would hurt too much.

A hand rubbed her back and words were muttered.

“Phillipa honey, we need to get in touch with people, and let them know.”

But she didn’t want to tell anyone, she didn’t want to say those words, not ever. How could she? It would mean she could accept what had happened, and she couldn’t; she couldn’t accept that she would never see her baby again, her gorgeous son who had spent the last nine years of her life as part of her soul, part of her life blood. She didn’t think she could ever accept that he was gone, no matter how many people she told.

Daily Picspiration - Moving Out

My Daily Picspiration went up on Sunday. It was only as I was towards the end of writing it that I realised I hadn't encompassed any of the photos. So I managed to squish in an owl hooting towards the end. The characters are developing nicely. I actually had to write out a list of them and their ages to keep it straight in my head. I have no idea where this is going or where it will end.

Posted on February 15th, you can read 'Moving Out' here.

You can read Part 3 - 'New Recruit' here.
You can read Part 2 - New Location here. 
You can read Part 1 - Frozen here.