Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 158

This week's photo prompt was taken by Mariana MA on 500px. She calls it 'Freedom'. Very powerful picture. 

I went for a different kind of story this time. I don't often write gangster things, but this is what came out.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Broken Links

It had taken a while but Mikey had found the broken link. He’d made sure he’d been thorough; he didn’t want to make a mistake – that would be bad – and now he was taking care of it.

He drove up to the cabin where Paulie had told him to get some R&R after disposing of it. He smiled to himself. They were pleased with him. He’d finally garnered some respect and might move up a few links in the chain.

The cabin came into view. It was a luxury one Paulie had had built. It had all the trappings of a resort, but was more secluded and only used by their organisation.

When he pulled up outside there were two other cars. He frowned, he wasn’t alone, even though he'd expected to be.

A large, stocky man in his late forties came out. “Mikey, how the hell are you? Paulie told us to expect you.”

“Hey Jimmy, I’m good thanks. Paulie sent you?”

“Yeah, he said you may need some help, you know. You got it with you?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Okay, let me get Ahmed.”

Jimmy disappeared inside to return with Paulie’s number two, Ahmed. He was as wide as he was tall, and solid muscle. He wasn’t someone you messed with – but then neither was Mikey.

“Hey Mikey, how you doing?”

“Hey Ahmed, I’m good now I’ve resolved the problem. Looking forward to taking a break.”

“Sure thing. Everything’s been laid on. Me and Jimmy’ll be leaving you in peace after.” Ahmed winked at Jimmy.

“What do you want to do, Mikey? Take five minutes or sort it now?” Jimmy said, ignoring whatever Ahmed had meant by the wink.

Mikey paused. These guys were further up the chain and he didn’t know them well enough to read their body language, but his gut told him something was wrong.

“I could use a drink and a leg stretch; it’s been a long drive.”

“Sure, come in and have a drink.” Jimmy beckoned him in, Ahmed following behind.

The place was spotless and no expense had been spared on this enormous ranch-like house. It was open plan and the extensive hallway led into a huge lounging area with wall to ceiling glass windows overlooking a huge swimming pool with the sweeping view of the forest covered mountains as backdrop.

“Wow, impressive.”

“It is,” Ahmed said. “Paulie knew what he was doing when he built this place.”

A bar ran along the back of the room and they all headed that way, Jimmy slipping behind to prepare drinks. A bourbon was put in front of Mikey and he swallowed it down in one, hoping it would quell the bad feeling. It didn’t. Jimmy immediately topped it up and Mikey swigged the next one down.

“Got a thirst, Mikey?” Ahmed perched on a stool next to him.

“I need it to take the edge off, you know?”

“Sure do.” Ahmed glanced at Jimmy and that was when Mikey knew. The broken link he’d discovered and disposed of hadn’t been the only one, there were two more right here. Paulie didn’t know they were up here. They were here to stop Mikey.

A third bourbon was placed in front of Mikey, and this time he stood up and took it with him, walking to the windows and taking in the view again. They didn’t follow him. His mind raced trying to work out a plan. He could run to his car or stand his ground? Which would it be?

The choice was taken from him as Ahmed barrelled into him. They weren’t wasting any time. Jimmy ran over as Ahmed tried to pin Mikey down and hooked a piece of wire over his head, aiming for his throat. Mikey managed to get a hand under it to stop it tightening. He thrashed about, making it difficult for them to hold him as he bent his right leg up under him and reach for the knife attached to his calf.

He plunged it in under Ahmed’s ribs and twisted, but didn’t wait, pulling it out and swinging his arm up over his head, hitting Jimmy full in the face with it, causing him to topple over. Mikey wriggled out from under them and took a breath as they lay there dying.

Now he had three bodies to dispose of, and a phone call to make to Paulie, before he could take his R&R.  

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 157

This week's picture is of the cover of an old novel - La Chartreuse de Parme (The Charterhouse of Parma) and was written by French writer Stendhal in 1839. It's a story about a fictional Italian nobleman who lived in Parma during the Napoleonic era. The story was very popular and has been turned into Opera (1939), film (1948 & 1964), TV (Series in 1981 & 2012) and translated in novel form as recently as in 1997 & 1999). 

This particular picture was taken by a writing friend, Jessica Maybury, who makes things out of discarded objects such as this cover, and I was attracted by the colour and design of it. 


The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Manifesting

Natalie smoothed her hand over the cover. She loved it: such a vibrant colour, such a perfect symbol on the front and with that title among her bookshelves, no one would pick it out. But if the contents were revealed … Natalie took a deep breath, she didn’t want to think about that. It was her secret.

She traced the lines of the candles and couldn’t resist another glimpse at the scribbled pages within. No, she told herself, you had to wait until tonight to try them.

She stayed busy throughout the day, going to work and daydreaming about what might happen that evening. And once home she waited until it was dark, occupying herself by moving furniture around and setting the scene. Then, with great awe, Natalie took the book down from the shelf and opened it. 

Standing in the middle of the room she began to read the words out loud. They sounded strange to her ears and she wondered if she was saying them right, with their true pronunciations forgotten over the centuries. But the light in the room began to dim and she was sure there was some kind of mist forming.

She kept reading until she came to the end of the first part and waited. By this time the entire lounge was full of some kind of ethereal smoke. She couldn’t see the fireplace a few feet in front of her, or the armchairs she’d moved up against the wall either side. She wasn’t sure if the manifestation had worked until she heard a cough, and then a voice cut through.

“Hello.” There was more coughing. “Oh dear, it seems the superfluous words have made a bit of a mockery of this business with all this mood smoke.”

Natalie waved the air in front of her face to try and clear it, and saw the outline of someone in one of the armchairs. Eventually a thin figure came into view, lounging in what looked like a smoking jacket, one suit-clad leg over the arm of the chair, swinging a black and white brogue shoe. It appeared to be a man with a long spindly moustache and Brylcreemed hair, holding a long cigarette holder in one hand. He looked as though he’d come from the 1920s.

“Who are you?” said Natalie.

“You called me up, my lovely, you should know,” he replied, casually taking a puff from his cigarette. 

“Erm …” Natalie scanned the next section in the book.

The man chuckled. “I’m just playing with you. Ernest’s the name. The dashing gentleman you ordered.”

“Oh.” Natalie felt her face flush. She’d never been good at hiding her disappointment.

“Not quite what you expected, it seems.” Ernest swung his leg off the arm of the chair and sat forward. “Where did you find the scripture?”

“What this?” Natalie indicated the scribbled words. Ernest nodded. “It was in my grandmother’s chest in the attic. It was given to me when my father passed away last year. I don’t think he ever looked in it. He’d would have left this for me to find otherwise.”

“Was your grandmother Maud Rivensby by any chance?”

Natalie felt goosebumps rise on her arms. “How do you know that?”

“Because she used to call me up all the time when she got bored, which happened a lot after her husband ran off.” Ernst sat back. “We had some good times,” he said wistfully, puffing some more on his cigarette.

“Ran off? He died in a car accident.”

“Is that what she told you? No, he wasn’t good to her, ran off with some woman he used to work with. Shame. She deserved better.” He sat forward again. “So you’re her granddaughter then?” Natalie nodded. “And now you too are looking for a bit of fun in your life.” He winked at her.

Natalie’s smile faltered. “Erm … I’m not sure anymore. I mean, no offence, but you’re not quite my type.”

He grinned, and the air shimmered around him. His face altered, filling out, the moustache disappearing. His whole body reshaped along with his clothes: muscles and broad shoulders appeared, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He flicked his head forward, and then threw it back, sweeping a hand through the full head of blond, chin-length hair that had appeared. He grinned. The cigarette gone. 

“Is this better? In this form I’m Eddie. Happy to be at your service.” He winked again.

This time Natalie’s blush was one of attraction. This was more like it. This had been what the book had promised.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 156

This week's photo is actually a Banksy photo - he took it himself. The Bristol based graffiti/street artist has become stupidly famous and his art chronically overpriced, but such things have given him leverage to speak out and be heard, hence this piece of art, which was done in the Gaza and he did a whole doco piece about it and life in Palestine. 

I think the piece doesn't just speak of Gaza but of all war and the general state of our world - particularly at the moment, and the emotion of it. And although I was unsure about whether to use this picture, I feel that it offers a lot of inspiration for writing.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Survival

It was dead, it was decayed, and he could no longer do anything about it. Murphy retreated, he couldn’t stay out here; he had to find a safe place, as much within as without.

He found an opening in the rubble, an old doorway that led down into a cellar. He set up home there thankful for his survival pack, bringing out a windup light and a bed roll, and chewing on an old dried fruit snack. It was a good find.

After placing a few strategic pieces of debris across the opening, he was sure he could ride it out down here. A couple of good scavenges of some abandoned homes had rewarded him with enough to stay holed up.

He lay in the dark in his cellar, only using his light when necessary. He imagined the world above, the shit show that was going on. The killing, the death, the ravage of war – well they called it war, but it really it was annihilation.

They’d come in their droves out of the sky, with weapons that had never been imagined, let alone seen. And what had baffled everyone is that they’d been human – the same species. You couldn’t spot them once they were on the ground; they could be anyone. Murphy wondered how they knew who were them and who were us – but they did know, they seemed to know exactly.

There’d been no negotiation, just action, and they’d known about all the secret bunkers in all the countries. There was no place left unturned – in fact they’d gone after the politicians and leaders first, coupled with the religious factions. That was why Murphy had lasted so long; he’d been a part of neither at any point in his life and had no intention of being. He’d kept his head down and done his time in the service, learning all he could about survival. Some would say he’d gone AWOL now, but there was no such thing anymore, the military had fallen. When you couldn’t tell who the enemy was, you ended up recruiting them into your ranks. Then they’d taken it part from within.

It had been a detailed and specific attack. Murphy was sure they’d been observing them for a long time, they knew everything, and they’d known how to destabilise. Murphy’s plan was to wait it out. They were almost at the end; there were few native humans left, and they weren’t planning on staying once they’d achieved their aim.

Murphy heard a shuffling sound. He sprang to his feet ascertaining that it came from the opening. He had his knife at the ready as he moved to the wall closest to the steps. Was it animal or human? He heard footsteps: human.

He could see them in his mind’s eye coming down the steps, then he heard a click and the cellar was flooded with light. He blinked rapidly but couldn’t get his vision to adjust before he was on the floor facedown with someone on top of him. It was one of them.

He heard the crackle of a walkie talkie, and the words ‘got him’ whispered into it. He was surprised; they normally executed people, they didn’t waste time capturing them. Another person came into the cellar and together they manhandled him back to the surface. His eyes adjusted enough for him to see the open transport truck waiting for him. They cuffed him into the back and two more sat either side of him.

No one spoke as the van moved out through the shattered war zone, and Murphy watched the debris reduce and turn into open swathes of land. Eventually a town came into sight, one that was still intact, and the truck pulled up in front of a large municipal building.

Two men in white coats were waiting at the entrance.

“Oh good, you’ve found him. Let’s get him inside.” The one on the left stepped forward. “How you doing, Murphy? Unfortunately you’re going to have to spend some time in the quiet room. We can’t risk you escaping again.”

“We found him in a cellar on the old housing estate they took down last week,” said one of his captors as they handed him over. “By the look of it he’d managed to equip himself with a few things along the way.”

“He was a top ranking marine; he knows how to survive,” the one on the right said. “It’s just awful what shellshock can do to a person. You’re safe here with us now, Murphy.”

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 155

This week's photo  is from Silena Lambertini an Italian photographer, and this is not the first time I've used one of her images for MWF. She has some great pics. She calls this one, Mirror, Mirror on the wall. 

This story flipped and flopped as to how it was going to turn out, but finally it gave me the ending. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Portal

It was still there; she could see it in the wing mirror. But when she adjusted the rear view mirror, it wasn’t. Rae knew what this meant and it wasn’t good. They’d tracked her and managed to come through. Damn!

She thought she’d found sanctuary here, that they couldn’t get through. She was wrong.

Rae glanced in the other wing mirror and could see the other one; they always travelled in pairs. For the moment she had the upper hand; they didn’t know she’d seen them and if she played it cool they wouldn’t know until it was too late.

She rounded the corner into her street, but kept on driving. She glanced wistfully at her front door, but if she went in there, she’d be trapped; remaining in the car meant she still had a chance, if only to lead them out again and keep the people on this plane safe. They might want her, but if they got her then they’d have entry to this dimension, and it would be the end for the people of this world.

She drove into the countryside, a plan forming in her mind. She checked every few minutes to see if they were still with her – they were. 

The houses thinned out as did the villages. She drove out into the middle of the woods – woods she was familiar with. It was where she’d come through and there was a portal there. She hoped she could still open it. She wouldn’t have time for any rituals – once she stopped they’d be on her, so she began incantations while driving. It would loosen her spirit from her body, making it tougher for them to catch her.

She drove up a dirt track. She wouldn’t be able to drive to the clearing, but she wouldn’t have to run as far. She stuck a hand into her handbag on the passenger seat and began rummaging inside while still steering the car. Eventually she felt metal under her hand and pulled out the compact mirror, flipping it open. She moved it to the driver’s side window: they were visible in it.

She hit the dead end and jumped out of the car, running into the woods, keeping the mirror at an angle so she could keep an eye on them. They gave chase. She pushed into a harder run. The human body would only let you go so fast, and in moments like these she missed her native Lenthian body, which would have carried her three times as fast, but that was long gone along with her plane of existence. These demons had seen to that.

Rae arrived in the clearing she knew all too well, having spent her first months here learning how to operate her new body and live in this new world. She’d been free for the first time in eons. Now she had to leave and take these two with her. She knew where she needed to take them, but risked her own life doing so. She only hoped that when they passed through they wouldn’t have a chance to attach to her; that she might survive and return.

She looked at the rings in the tree stump and let her eyes spin with them as she continued incantations. The tree base began to transform and open into a tunnel.

She heard a scream; they’d realised what she was doing. But it was too late, the words she’d spun had tied them to the clearing, they couldn’t retreat, and the portal was open, drawing them all in. She felt her soul being sucked through and the presence of their half souls following her.

The light changed, colours flashed and the temperature rose. They were through to a world ablaze. Their world. Their dominion.

She saw them take their true forms: half-headed, twisted limbed vessels of bile and acid. She saw them extend their limbs towards her, but she was not solid, they could not take her.

She twirled away from them, searching for the portal they’d come through. This plane was normally sealed but the invocation she’d used should have kept it open – if only for a few seconds. She could hear them calling others; enough of them and they’d have her soul.

A glint in the ground. She dove for it.

There was a roar all around her. She felt heat, and heard a popping sound.

She lay on the ground in the woods in her body. She’d made it out.  

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 154

This week's picture prompt was taken by Katelyn on Twitter in January 2019. She said it was 'somewhere in Norfolk, taken through my car window on my way home.' (That's Norfolk, England). I think it's rather perfect.

This one inspired another Tricky tale! It just works perfectly for her. I hope to get to her full stories soon. I am certainly creating a catalogue of shorts at this stage. The last one was in March - Week148 - and it links through to all the others.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Startled

Oh yes, she could see why the oak wasn’t right, something had startled it; something that wasn’t of this world. And by the look, it had startled its life right out of it. It wasn’t normal for a tree’s energy to stay exposed like that – sticking out like iron filings along every branch. It was an end of life event. She hated seeing this, but it happened from time to time.

For Tricky it was an indicator that they had been nearby. This was on her route after all, and she knew they were link enough to find her dwelling. It didn’t matter how much she worked to shield it and keep it out of space and time, there were stronger forces in this world, and they weren’t going to let her rest. Not with what she knew and had in her possession, oh no.

She paused in front of the great oak and summoned the energy of those nearby to find out if there was any hope for it. It had been here a good couple of centuries and been a powerful supporter of hers time and time again. Maybe she could help heal it now.

The trees in the gully over the rise responded to her call on this dusky evening. She felt the air ripe with the glow of their effervescence, and she was joyful to see a dark green glow start spinning round the massive trunk of the oak. It meant there was still life within.

She sent her call out further, spinning a gold lattice that would call the great ash from the forest over to the right. They responded in turn, and the sky filled with an orange glow that was the highest energy that could be mustered. Silver threads wrapped round every bough and twig, soothing and purifying as they went.

Tricky thought her heart might burst with the joy it brought her to see nature come to the rescue of one of its own. The air pulsed with energy, and she could feel age falling off her: her bones becoming less achy, her skin tightening and a surge of energy running through all her muscles. It was a gift from the trees, and one they bestowed on her as their caretaker. She was humbled.

But once the healing had finished and the oak restored to its former glory, her mind turned to the cause; the dark energy that wrought such a shock on a tree such as this, one in its prime. She continued on her journey with trepidation now, knowing that every bird could be a spy and be informing on her every move. But she also needed to make haste, because if they had found her cabin and entered it, it might be all over for her – at least for this lifetime.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 153

This week's photo prompt is of a sunken lane in La Meauffe, France, and was once a site of a 1944 World War II battle - although it dates back much further than that. It was taken by Romain Bréget, alias Kormin on the Wikimedia projects. 

This week I channeled a friend of mine, Mason Bushell and used him and his dog Lucy for this story. It's a bit of a mystery this week. Although I don't write mysteries half as good as he does.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Tripping Across Time

Mason had walked his dog, Lucy, here many times, but he knew something was wrong when she stopped and raised her hackles, growling at something ahead of them.

They were in a deep gully between fields; he understood it to be a sunken lane that had seen battle in World War II, although it dated back much further. It was circular, and lined with trees that had grown over in in a canopy to form a green tunnel. Today, with the sunlight cutting through the gaps in the leaves, it seemed to spin somehow, the beams of light flickering with the movement of the leaves, creating motion.

Lucy continued to growl, then let out a whimper, and with tail between legs, ran back the way they’d come. Mason tried calling her back, but she was gone. He wondered what had spooked her. He couldn’t see or hear anything, but knew animal could sense other things. He continued to walk forward to investigate, but found nothing. The only change was the light as the clouds in the sky moved across the sun.

Mason walked until he reached the end of the hollow way, where it inclined back up to the fields above. Then he turned round and came back the same way, still pondering what had spooked Lucy. He just hoped she’d be at the back door waiting for him.

When he arrived back at the cottage, she wasn’t. He called and called, but to no avail. He hoped she was hiding and would be back soon. He let himself into the cottage and stood in the kitchen. There was a strange musty smell and all the surfaces were clear, except for a fine layer of dust. Someone had been in and tided up.

He walked through to the lounge and found the same. On the small table by the front window he found a pile of unopened post and newspapers. He frowned. He picked up the top two white envelopes, and looked at the newspaper undeneath. He blinked. The date said the 14^th of April 2021 – exactly a year in the future.

A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach began to stir.. He walked through the rest of the house and found the same; everything had been tidied up, all the surfaces were clear except for a layer of dust. He went into the garage and there was his car; it had been parked in the driveway when he’d left for the walk.

It explained why Lucy wasn’t here. A terrifying thought struck Mason: what if they’d thought he was dead and she’d been rehomed? What if she belonged to someone else now?

Mason rushed out the door and up his neighbour, Stan’s driveway. He was older than Mason, even though he didn’t look it, and they’d been firm friends since Mason had moved in fifteen years ago. They’d always looked after each others homes when the other was away and had each other’s front door key. But when he stopped at the front door, he paused. What if he believed Mason was dead? Either way he had to find out what had happened to Lucy.

Mason heard his knock resound through Stan’s large hallway and then he heard the sound of animal paws clicking on the wood floors, followed by whining and barking. It was Lucy, he was sure of it! Then he heard Stan’s voice, ‘Yes, girl, I know. It’s him. I know.’

When the door opened, she came flying out and jumped into Mason’s arms, covering his face in wet sloppy, tongue kisses. He tried to hold onto her, but even though she was a small border collie, the wriggling excitement made it impossible; he had to put her on the ground.

Stan watched on with a big smile, waiting for their reunion to dissapate. When it did, Mason asked, ‘How did you know it was me?’

‘Because it’s a year today since you disappeared.’ Stan turned and led the way back into the house.

‘I don’t follow?’

‘When I heard Lucy howling that evening, a year ago, and found your cottage empty, I asked her to tell me where you’ d gone. She took me out through the woods to the hollow way – although refused to go in it – so I knew you were gone for at least a year.’

‘How?’

‘It’s a time tunnel. It appears off and on. You step through it and time here passes at roughly a year every 5 minutes. You must have gone through and come straight back. I’ve been using it for years.’

‘Why?’

‘To stay young.’ Stan smiled and winked at Mason. ‘Can’t you tell?’

Mason sat down. He needed to know more.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 152

This week's picture prompt is from Polish artist Zdzislaw Beksinski. He was known for his dystopian and surreal artwork. This one just struck me more than any of his other art but you should check it out. 

I tried a different take on this one, and quite like what came out. Channeling the kids in Mad Max Thunderdome.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

From the Deep

Obsey moved a little closer and stopped to see if it would move away. It didn’t.

They’d watched it from the dunes. It had come in on the water, but hadn’t moved like the other sea life. This was hard and inflexible. When it had washed up, everyone had waited. After two sun cycles a team had been put together to investigate further.

There were whispers that it belonged to the dangerous ages. One of the old timers had made a sound like the giant black birds that were always circling and trying to take their food. He’d said it was the sound you made when you called this thing.

It’s square eyes were hollow, yet watchful. Obsey couldn’t see a mouth. Maybe it was underneath. He wondered at the openings around the sides. Rilet said it might be a shell; the creature that had lived inside long dead. Obsey hoped she was right. The idea frightened him. He led the fishing teams out into the water. He’d never come across anything this big, and hoped never to.

They’d sighted sea animals from the lookout at the top of the old pole, but they’d moved in wiggly ways and flipped their tails and never come into shore. Obsey had even dreamed of catching something that big; it would feed their cluster for a month or more. But this thing was different. It didn’t move right. It didn’t sound right. It was all kinds of wrong, as Mamon used to say.

Obsey looked back at the team, huddled in among the low dunes, all eyes were on him. He decided to brave it and rush the thing, letting out a yell as he did, spear overhead, ready for the kill. But it remained motionless.

He came to an abrupt halt next to it, only the sound of him panting and the waves crashing filled the air. He lowered his spear and poked it in the side. No movement, but it had a hard exterior, like the lookout pole. He poked it again, harder this time. Still nothing. Then he dared to put his hands on it. Rilet was right; it was just a shell.

He turned and waved to the rest of the team and they joined him in investigating it. Then after a time they gave a signal to the lookout pole and the cluster came to see it too.

The mood turned from trepidation to excitement, and they decided to carry it up back to their dwelling, where the younguns could play on it and the old timers could teach about it.