Daily Picspiration - The Dragon House

With this weeks Daily Picspiration I went with a Dragon story due to the photo prompt. Not normally my genre but I enjoyed trying something new, it felt like it had been a while. It took a while for me to find the story, but the words came and of course the ending had to be! Hope it will make you snigger like it did me! Enjoy.

Posted on Sunday 28th of June - you can find 'The Dragon House' here. 

Doing what you have to - Flash Mobs Writes

This is the first time I have written for the Flash Mobs Write challenge, hosted by Cara Michaels & Ruth Long - two awesome writers. They provide a song for inspiration that doesn't need to be referenced, and two prompt lines, one of which needs to be included - although you can use both if you wish. Last week they had a song from The Walking Dead show as an inspiration, so I took a closer look. Initially nothing came, but on Sunday I woke with this story, although I entered it an hour past the deadline. That might be why it didn't warrant a mention, although all the entries, of which there were many, were of a very high standard. I liked this story though, hope you do too.

Now she had the gun up against his head her hand was steady. In every scenario she’d run in her head, Amanda had seen herself shaking, barely able to hold the gun. It was why she’d picked the little Taurus 405 model, easy to hold and easy to conceal. 

And when it had played out in her head she had seen him laughing at her. But he wasn’t. He stood stock-still, an edge of fear in his eyes. She liked that. For the first time ever he was taking her seriously, and when she’d cocked the barrel he’d dropped the conch. 

And while she paused, catching her breath, debating whether to go through with it or not – never imagining she’d get this far – he started to beg. 

“Come on Mand, you don’t want to be doing this. You don’t want to go shooting me. You don’t want that on your conscience. I’m not worth jail time. Come on, this isn’t you. You’re better than this. This isn’t you at all.”

“Maybe I’m not who you think I am, Brandon. I know I’m not who I thought I was. I didn’t think I’d be somebody who’d let a man beat me daily. I mean look at me? Look at the blood trickling down the side of my head. That might be you; it might have been my mother, but it sure as shit isn’t me. And I let you do that Brandon – me, no one else. I let you worm your way in. I trusted you, I believed your sob stories, you excuses, your sorry speeches – ” 

“But I meant them Mand, I really meant them, it’s just –”

She spat in his face. “You didn’t mean a word of them! Not one … single … word! If I wasn’t holding this gun to your head, you’d still be beating me with that!” Amanda kicked the conch across the kitchen floor. “But I was ready for you this time Brandon, because I realised that you were never gonna stop. And I need you to Brandon, because I need to live. I need to show those two little people upstairs, cowering at this very moment that their mother is worth more than that; that she’s stronger than that; that she’s better than that.” 

“But I can change Mand. I can get help. I can turn this shit around, I promise.”

“Promise?” Amanda scoffed a half laugh, the gun held firm. “You’re promises aren’t worth shit Brandon and you know it. You won’t do any of that. Once this gun is removed you’ll beat me to death, that’s what you’ll do. That’s the only promise you’ll keep.” 

She felt his body tense under the barrel of the gun. He knew she was right, and she knew she was right too. And in that moment she knew what she had to do. She pulled the trigger, feeling the warm spatter of blood on her face, and his body slump to the floor. 

Find the Girl - MWBB

This was my entry from last weeks Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction contest. I rather liked it, but the last line was hard for me. I wanted it to be more. But on the whole I liked the piece. Hope you do too.

Song prompt: 

The Cure - A Forest

He could hear her; her breath, panting, but it was distant. He followed where he thought it was from, but a crunch of twigs turned him in another direction. Damon pushed through the undergrowth, ignoring scratches and cuts to his arms and face, and janking at his long overcoat as it caught on branches. He had to find her, had to get hold of her, and soon.

He heard another crash and a squeal with it. It froze him in his tracks as he strained to hear more but there was nothing. He slammed his shoulder against a tree trunk as he tripped over a root, pausing a second to catch his breath before going on. How much longer could he keep this up?

Then he heard a shot, fired somewhere off to his left, but no scream followed it. He hoped it had missed, he hoped he still had time as adrenaline gave him another shove forward. He was determined; he had to be the first to reach her, he couldn’t fail again.

A wall of thicket appeared in front of him. As he approached it he wondered how best to get into it, but found that throwing himself into it was the only way. Was she in here? He didn’t know, but he had to try.

As he pushed further in, Damon was momentarily blinded by dense leaves, and felt his foot catch on something as he slid face first into a carpet of leaves and mulch. But he barely felt it as his attention was caught by a sound next to him; a sharp intake of breath.

Damon turned his head and there she was cowering away from him, caught in the undergrowth, hugging her naked body tight in an attempt to cover herself. Her leg was bleeding where he’d caught it with his shoe.

He pushed back onto his knees, and swept round, opening his long overcoat and sweeping it round her as best as he could in the tight space. She pulled it round, and let him embrace her, resting her trembling body against his. Whether from fear or the cold Damon couldn’t tell, but at least he had her first before the monsters came.

Neither of them made a sound as they heard them come crashing through the trees. Damon hoped the twigs and leaves of the thicket had bounced back behind him, and they wouldn’t spot where he had dived in.

Footsteps crunched nearer, and two voices spoke in rough whispers.

“She came through here, I’m sure of it.”

“We should have brought McKlennan, he could have tracked her better than you.”

“She’s here somewhere, I’m know it.”

“You said that a mile back.”

“We’re getting close. Shhh!”

The men went still and Damon held his breath, feeling the girl do the same. Everyone waited. Then something crashed off in the distance, an animal maybe, and they were moving again, excited by the sound.

“She’s over there!”

“I can’t wait to have her!”

Damon and the girl didn’t move or speak, though they relaxed as the sounds of the men became more distant.

Eventually the girl’s head came up from Damon’s chest, and she whispered, “Why?”

He looked into her pale frightened eyes, and said, “Because you’re a valuable human being, not a piece of meat to be hunted.”

Daily Picspiration - Retreat

I have stopped with serial I was doing for my Daily Picspiration and I have moved back to doing single pieces of fiction. This one got a bit long, but I do love it. It has a nice dark and confused twists in it, and hopefully stays with the reader a little afterwards. Hope you like it too. 

Posted on Sunday 14th of June - you can find 'Retreat' here.




Did you like it? What did you like about it? Let me know in the comments below. 


 

Visual Dare - Balance

This weeks Visual Dare threw up an interesting photo, and combined with the word balance, made me think more of a juggle. This is what surfaced.

Sophie stumbled her way into the station with all her bags and saw the melee in front of her. Damn, it was rush hour, how was she going to get through all that lot unnoticed?

She juggled the suitcases round until they were more comfortable and set off, pushing her way through, mumbling apologies as she went, not daring to look anyone in the eye. She hoped no one would offer assistance, they might ask what she was carrying and she wouldn’t want that.

Fortunately she reached the platform uninterrupted and set the bags down. Glancing at the clock, she had ten minutes to decide whether to leave the cases in the luggage rack. She didn’t fancy standing all the way. Then she caught someone glance at one of cases and saw blood seeping through. Damn, it looked she had no choice if he wasn’t going to remain hidden.

149 Words

Five Sentence Fiction - Spunk

A quick one for this weeks Five Sentence Fiction, the picture giving me a different take on the word.

Timmy shifted round in his seat and craned his neck to watch the big truck that was coming up alongside them in the outer lane.

Mandy didn’t like her son doing that while she was driving and reprimanded him, telling him to sit back round, but as she glanced over her shoulder their car swerved towards the lorry causing the truck driver to swerve out too and almost hit the central reservation.

Timmy watched as the driver tried to correct his position on the road, his hands working hard on the steering wheel as he came level with their car. The blare from the

trucks horns made Timmy jump, and he looked wide-eyed up into the truckers angry face.

Timmy giggled and said to his mum, “You’ve got to have some spunk to drive that big truck, mama.”

 

MWBB - Untraceable

This is an entry to Mid-Week Blues-Buster from last week. I didn't have time to post it as I was busy at a writing event in Nottingham. Although it wasn't placed, I really liked it. I hope you do.

Prompt song:  “Freedom”, by Anthony Hamilton and Elayna Boynton.

Belinda looked out the open window, across the vast expanse of land and leaned back, stretching her back. She surveyed all she had packed so far. The tiny backpack had all the essentials.

It would be a while before anyone would notice she’d gone; the kids were going to their grandma after school under the guise of an appointment, so she had a few hours head start, and that was plenty for what she had in mind.

She’d spent the first couple of hours of the morning shutting everything; deactivating social media, deleting mail accounts, diverting information that he might need to their home email, and then switching funds around in the banks – emptying hers.

She’d laid all the bank and insurance cards out on the dining table, so he couldn’t miss them – hers and the kids. And left the keys to the house and the car, everything, so there was nothing he had to track her down.

Her stomach clenched at the thought, but she pushed it away and took another deep breath; if she let the thoughts in she wouldn’t be able to go, and it wasn’t an option anymore.

She’d seen the signals; the slightly coincidental non-coincidences that others missed. And then the signs had started to appear; first in the kids chalk drawings in the pavement, and then in the ever changing fridge magnets. It was time to go.

She ran through everything in her mind, hoping she hadn’t missed anything. She had to be untraceable, there had to be no leads.  She had to walk away with not one single tie – other than DNA.

She squeezed her eyes tight shut for a second, swallowing hard. They’d be okay as long as she went. That was the deal.

She saw the bus in the distance, and walked out the front door, making sure it was firmly closed behind her. She strolled casually to the stop and stepped up onto the bus when it arrived.

Belinda looked out the back window at her little house, and the little life she was leaving behind. She had to keep moving, that was the price she paid for her freedom. And although they’d never know it, she sought comfort in the fact that she was giving them their freedom too.