Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 298

This week's picture prompt was taken by Shihya Kowatari, a Japanese photographer. Shihya Kowatari is a Japanese photographer who captured the leaves and flowers under the lights of different colors. She has some incredible pictures, so worth checking out. 

A dark little fairy tale.

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.

Fairy Wings

Iolanthe caressed the delicate leaf-shaped wing, its fine gossamer structure silky under her fingers. She couldn’t believe they were finally hers. She would at last be able to fulfil her true fairy potential. She trembled at the anticipation of having them fitted, but first she washed the blood off the tips; if they saw that they might be alerted to the fact she hadn’t come into possession of them legitimately. Some things were worth more than morality – at least she thought so.

If you wanted to be accepted in life you had to be prepared to cut corners, and on occasion take risks. Those might include cutting another life down and risking your own, but to finally be able to become one of them, it was all that mattered.

She went over to the full length mirror and turned her back to it. Her own mangled stumps had kept her grounded. A congenital defect they said, because her mother shouldn’t have fallen in love with her uncle.

Io didn’t care. He’d been a good father until they’d hanged him for treason to the Queen. Iolanthe didn’t consider her a true Queen. She’d been self appointed and used brute force with some of her sycophantic followers to become their ruler. She wasn’t loved she was tolerated. Everyone knew it, but her father had been the only one stupid enough to say it.

But none of that mattered now. Once Io had her wings she would be away from all this. She’d heard about another collective in woods to the south and that was where she was going. Her escape plan was in place. Everything was moving along as it should. As long as the surgery went well, it was full wings to the wind.

A knock at the door told her they were here. She dried off the wings, let them in and they set about preparing her and the room for the operation. She thought she’d be too excited to fall asleep, but the hypnosis spell worked within seconds, and the next thing she knew she was waking up in a darkened room, her back killing her.

Iolanthe’s head was fuzzy but she was sure this wasn’t her chamber. And when she tried to move she couldn’t finding her hands and feet strapped down. Was this to protect her new wings? But no matter how much she tried she couldn’t feel any motion from her back, just pain. Even her old twisted nubs used to move a little bit.

Then she heard a door open and a lamp was lit, and she saw she was in an empty cell, laid out on a cot.

“Ah, you are awake, good. We will keep you here for the time being, until we deem it safe to move you,” the nurse said, checking her wounds.

“Where am I? I can’t feel my new wings.”

“That’s because you don’t have any.”

“What?”

“Only donated wings can be refitted. Stolen wings have a fail safe that can’t be unlocked. You should have known that. The doctors realised as soon as they attempted it. You are no better than human now – even less than, because you’re a murderer. Once they recover the body they will dispose of you along with it.”

Io felt tears fill her eyes. If she couldn’t fly they may as well dispose of her too, there was no point in living otherwise.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 297

This week's picture is of a Sequoia tree (Redwood) that has fallen and regenerated from the old trunk - branches have become new trees. It was taken by Ron Levy of the Redwood World website, which follows and tracks the Redwood groves in the UK, which is a big thing going on to combat climate change. This particular photo was taken at the Royal Forestry Society's Redwood Grove in Leighton, Montgomeryshire, in Wales. There are few sites in Wales and several across the UK.

A brief glimpse into Tricky as I'm getting ready to start writing Book 3 tomorrow for JuNoWriMo. The last Tricky piece was on Week 295. 

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.

Redwood

“You showed us how to be, how to grow, how to stick together. You fed each other and built a community of sturdy solid wood. And even when you fell you showed us how to regenerate and build stronger and better.

“We haven’t yet managed to do that. We almost wiped ourselves out entirely and though we are growing back I am not sure it will be stronger or better. Again it begins: the manipulation, the fighting, the greed. An endless cycle of ‘mine is better than yours’, and ‘I want what you have so I will take it’.

“We haven’t learned from you – most of us at least. We haven’t understood the way to just be and exist. We always want more; always believe there should be more; that we have a right to have more. We’re a dissatisfied species.”

Tricky sat on the fallen Red talking to it, and admired its offspring which had grown tall, and majestic. She wished humans would understand how much it mattered to the continuance of their species to learn those lessons. But sadly the few had to always ruin it for the many.

She heard the flock fidget in the branches above and glanced up. Merlin alighted on one of the lower branches. He squawked at her and she understood his warning, packing up the tiny lunch of nuts and seeds and tucking it into her pocket.

It was time to move on; they were tracking her and Merlin clearly thought they were too close for comfort. But she wasn’t far now. Though she didn’t know these trees personally, she knew which species lived where, and from here it wasn’t much further until she would hit the river, Blood River as it was called. She shuddered at the meaning behind the name.

She just needed to get across it and she was home and dry – so to speak. Then she had to face the next tricky situation. But Tricky knew tricky and it wasn’t half as tricky as what she had just been through. So she quickly dusted off her skirts and go moving.  

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 296

This week's picture prompt was created by Gatto Mezzioviaggio. I don't know much about them as they only have an Instagram account with no links. But it says in their bio: 'AI Post-photographies / synthography of Mezzoviaggio cat. "Mezzoviaggio" is the (spurious) Italian translation of Midjourney.' 

A darkish tale of demons. 

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.

Invasion

She jerked awake, her body covered in sweat. It was them; they were coming. The recurrence of the dreams had escalated and it wouldn’t be long now.

Tabitha jumped out of bed and ran to the window of her little cottage. The grey muted light of pre-dawn pressed up against the windows. There was a low fog on the ground which wasn’t unusual as the village was low-lying where three river’s met.

Despite its abundance in fertile land, this place had an energy that repelled a lot of folk. But it didn’t repel Tabitha; it was why she was here.

She hoped her plan would be enough against these demons. They were dark and intent, and they wanted her gone.

She moved round the house, casting her wards with utterances and arm waves. She hoped they would help to keep them out.

There were two pots on the stove that were on a constant simmer. She lifted the lid on one and sniffed. They were almost ready.

She returned to her bedroom and dressed swiftly, choosing grey rather than black – easier to disappear in the gloom. She peered out of the window again. Nothing looked different, but she could feel them coming.

Back in the kitchen, she quickly tipped a bit of the liquid into a cup from the left pot, the one that was now ‘cooked’, and sipped on it. She took it with her as she moved round the house repeating the wards while she lit a fire in the hearth in the lounge.

Then she went back into the kitchen and poured a little out of the right pot into a saucer and placed it on the floor. Everything was set.

She went to the front door and wrapped her grey shawl round her shoulders and left the house.

Tabitha walked through the sleeping village out into the woods beyond and then up a hill, where at the top a huge upright stone stood. It hadn’t been crafted, she’d brought it here when she first arrived. It was taller than her but she had ways of moving things which didn’t exert her.

She placed a hand on it and felt the lines crossing, pushing back at her. She also felt their presence; they were moving in, slowly, and heading straight for her cottage. She slid down the stone and slumped onto her knees as the tincture began to take effect. It made her twitch and tremble for a few minutes. She closed her eyes and let it take hold.

Once it had, she got up and ran with all the speed she could muster back to the cottage, but rather than go in she waited on the front porch.

Dawn was approaching but all it did was make the fog glow and swirl. The birds were not yet awake, so the only sounds that reached her came from the demons as they travelled ever faster over the land towards her. The hissing growing louder the closer they came. They were moments from her door now.

She stood up and walked tentatively to her garden wall, listening, then jumped up and perched on it.

She could see them, in the distance bobbing along, their heads just above the mist. Their yellow eyes glistened in the half light. She resisted the urge to jump down and greet them.

There were nine of them and she was only one.

Their arrival was like a swarm and they covered the grounds of the house sniffing and licking and looking. Then they climbed, jumping up onto the roof and doing the same there. The fire in the hearth blocking their exit in via the chimney.

There was no way in, Tabitha knew that. She waited on the wall. They hadn’t notice or sensed her. She was pleased her plan had worked. She’d thought they were more astute, but a demon with a focused purpose missed the obvious. They were expecting to find her as herself, not as one of them – a black cat.

They sat around the cottage for some time. She basked on the wall watching the sun rise keeping her eye on them. She wondered how long they would stay.

Then one ear pricked up and then another turned its head and as one they were on the move again, back the way they came.

She watched from her place up on the wall as they disappeared down the road. She saw them turn, going up the hill. She jumped down and followed, keeping her distance.

She tracked them up to her stone where she found them circling it like some kind of collective madness had possessed them – and maybe it had.

They moved faster and faster until they looked like a black rotating circle. Tabitha had to look away, it made her eyes hurt to try to watch.

Then a lightning bolt shot up out of the top of the stone and they vanished.

Tabitha waited a few minutes, but all was quiet. She walked to the stone and sniffed round it. Nothing. They had gone. The stone had taken them. Her work was done.

She padded home and jumped up at the handle of the front door – something they hadn’t thought to do thanks to her wards – and let herself in. And once she had consumed some of the fluid in the saucer her human form returned.

She stoked the fire and sat down by it. Diverting demons wasn’t an easy job but someone had to protect this place.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 295

This week's picture is by photographer Swen Stroop. He calls this one Full Circle. It is of the Callanish Stones in Scotland. He has some amazing shots from various places in the world, definitely worth having a look. 

Another Tricky tale as I ramp up to writing book 3 in June. Testing out some ideas and seeing how they feel. The last Tricky tale was on Week 293. 

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.

Nexus Point

Tricky reached the peak of the hill and looked across the craggy land, all dishevelled and broken. The trees were moving in at the edges, but hadn’t yet covered it. There weren’t any dwellers here; the ground was mostly volcanic rock and granite. A couple of hundred years hadn’t broken it down enough to be workable. But the trees would find a way and one day it would flourish.

And then she saw it. Her mother had said it was here: the stone circle.

It was astounding what had survived the shift, but Tricky knew that this had been laid in such a way it wasn’t going to be easily moved. Strong power lines lay across the Earth and despite the disruption of the shift, they didn’t move. Plus they knew how to erect things back then – not in the time just before the shift, but a few thousand years before that when this had been built.

Humans before the shift thought this was some kind of religious effigy – which seemed to be what they thought about anything they didn’t understand. But it was just the bones of a house; a large house for its time, probably a meeting house, maybe where they traded, but just a house. Religion didn’t take hold until the dark years a couple of thousand years later, when humans became so populated that greed took over and wars were raged. Religion became a useful tool to manipulate folk, take over their land and putting them into servitude, while milking them at the same time: ‘give us your treasures and it’ll buy you a ticket to absolution after you die’. What a great con! And Tricky thought she was tricky!

The shift had occurred at the peak period of such behaviour and brought it all crashing down around their ears. It’s what happens; nature finds a way to cleanse much better than any imaginary god.

Still this circle was a sight to behold, and the energy shone all around it, making it glow. As she moved closer, the golden energy it emitted encompassed her, and she breathed it in. But it didn’t fill her up like other energies, instead it washed her own, polishing it until it glowed in the same way. Tricky felt renewed.

She moved into the circle and stood in its centre. The point where it came together was the strongest and it was here she was going to try an experiment.

If she had it right, this would be where she could open a line to multiple pockets of times, sort of a nexus point. But she wasn’t sure.

She brought out her obsidian with a piece of germwort wrapped round it, and opened her tin of creasy. She took in a deep breath, feeling the golden air going into her lungs and blew across the stone. It sparkled. Then she sprinkled a pinch of creasy over it.

She was thrown back by the loud crack that displaced the air, and a gap appeared in front of her running way up above the stone circle. It had layers. She was looking at multiple places on top of each other, like a bookshelf. She could pick and choose where she wanted to go. Or in this case, where she planned to leave him.

Most of these pockets weren’t accessible anywhere else on the landmass, because there was no where else this powerful. And being able to return was unlikely unless you could find a point over there as powerful; it could take years. Tricky was grateful to the ancient civilisation who’d built this, but she doubted they had known. They were probably just drawn to it and been oblivious like most people.

It didn’t mean he wouldn’t know about this place though, he might, but did he know what it could do? She doubted it. Even her own mother hadn’t known. And until this moment it had been just an inkling in Tricky’s suspicious mind, which only developed after extensive research now she had her books back.

Tricky preened herself a little. Oh yes, she was the true master of time. She knew that. He liked to distract himself with too many things to honestly understand the purity of it. He fiddled about in the now, using it for his personal gain. He pretended to be a great mentor, but none of his underlings came close to their full potential and he liked it that way.

If Tricky achieved this she was doing them a service – and the rest of the landmass. Without Gandalf, aka Douglas Bottle, lending the network his gifts, they would no longer be able to manipulate and con others into doing their bidding. You needed power for that, and he was their link to it.

Oh yes, if she could pull this off they might be able to settle down to living and build their society in a healthy way. Ridding herself of her would-be assassin was just an added benefit. Oh yes it was.

So now she knew, what next? She’d spotted a particular dark little place about half way up. Yes, that would do nicely, but now to work out how to lead him there. Tricky set her tricky mind to work on it as she closed up the opening, safe in the knowledge she might have a solution.  

Happy Publication Day to Kill The Goblins! 🥳

Todays sees the release of my first foray into non-fiction, and in a genre many people shy away from and scoff at, but for me such books have been a life saver: self-help.

My new book is called Kill The Goblins! How to get the negative voices in your head to shut up. It provides in-the-moment strategies to quiet a noisy mind.

It will be available across all platforms in ebook and paperback format.

If you are wondering how a writer of dark horror/fantasy/scif-fi stuff ends up writing self help, I wrote an article about it over on Ginger Nuts of Horror as part of their mental health series.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 294

This week's picture prompt is a painting by artist Tomasz Alen Kopera. This particular painting doesn't appear on his site though, but instead on another gallery that hosts his work, Artèclat. I've seen pieces of his art before, but don't think I've used one yet. 

I've cheated a little with this week's image. It reminded me of a story I wrote a long time ago for a weekly contest called Mid-Week Blues Busters, and I also put this story in my collection, called Mostly Dark, published back in 2016 and is now a permanent free book. (if you look on Amazon, if it isn't free, then let me know). But it works so perfectly for this image and upon reading it again, I thought I'd share it here. 

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.

Soul Search

Lucille stopped in front of the subtly lit signage, knowing it was the place she had seen in her dream. The pull within her was strong; the excitement in her core peaking.

She entered the club and no one at the door batted an eyelid. When shown the card at the cloakrooms she knew she was in the right place; the image on the other side burned in her mind. Her response was met with a quick nod and smile.

When she walked inside, the music made her feel like she had walked into a time warp; its singular note filling the room. The people stood around as though waiting for something, and for a moment she wondered if it was her. Then the beat started and the dancing resumed.

When she approached the bar, she was handed a drink. She sipped it and delighted in its accuracy. Speech was rendered useless here, allowing the music to permeate.

Her mind was flooded with images and thoughts. The eye contact she made drew her in, engaging her in dialogue, tapping a previously untouched depth within her. She had finally arrived. She was among kindred souls.

Lucille looked round for him, he had to be here; he’d been the main player in the dream, going by the name of Rohan. And then, as if on cue, the people in front of her parted and there he was, on the other side of the dance-floor, standing with a group of people.

He looked round as though someone had called his name – and she realised that she just had. The smile that spread across his face when he saw her made her soul yearn. He wasted no time crossing the room to reach her and embraced her like a long lost lover.

When their lips touched, her mind reeled in a white light that filled her entire being. When they broke apart she held his face and looked deep into his eyes. Moments from their past lives flowed like an exchange of ideas as they caught up to the present. They had found each other again. 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 293

This week's prompt is a photograph taken in the “Livraria Lello & Irmão”, better known as Livraria Lello (Lello Bookstore), located in a beautiful neo-gothic building in the historic center of Porto, Portugal. Opened in 1906, it is one of the oldest Portuguese bookstores and has an invaluable historical and artistic value. 1995, the bookstore was restored and modernized, also creating an art gallery space. In 2013, it became a National Heritage Site, classified as a Monument of Public Interest.

This particular photo is apparently by Reinhard Görner, a German photographer. Prints are being sold for upwards of 6K which is a bit of a shock, seeing as you could visit this place and take your own picture - granted there might be people in it, but still, to me this is an indication of something wrong with a society that will pay that much for a single photo.  

As I prepare for the next Tricky Tales book, the third in this trilogy, but not the only series of Tricky books I think as more ideas manifest. The last time I visited Tricky was Week 289. 

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.

Chestwick

Tricky was familiar with Chestwick; she’d spent time here off and on over the years. On the whole she wasn’t a city lover, but when she walked into the book emporium she realised the value of having access to such a place. If she could come here every day and browse she’d love it.

This place was new to her; they had taken years to refurbish the old building that housed it. Both craftsmen and parts were in short supply so it was indeed a wonder to behold as you walked through the doors and came face-to-face with such an amazing staircase and ceiling. The grandeur and elegance was breath taking.

She took a moment to take in the beauty and admire the detailed workmanship. It showed trained skills were returning to the world, and that was something to be excited about. And then the books; there were rows and rows of them.

Tricky had been lucky enough to grow up with an extensive library at her fingertips; her parents had gathered many books, some literally when finding old ruined properties and combing through the remains. It had paid off and given her knowledge about a lot of things. Both her parents had been avid writers too, making sure everything was recorded.

Tricky might not have access to those books anymore, or have them in her possession, but she had an idea where they’d ended up and planned on gathering them again. She had at least salvaged the hand written tombs her parents had written. She had them neatly tucked away in one of her many time pockets. They were safer there than in any building.

This building was protected by the city and the laws that had been created by The Baron and his community to serve the people. And these books were for all to enjoy. But if things went dark again who knew what might happen to them.

Tricky ran her fingers over the covers, using her energy to pick up their contents as she searched through. Were there other books that had belonged to her family here? She hoped so. She hoped that when her parents house had been scattered among the cockroaches that brought about its downfall some of them might have travelled here. Afterall, they had managed to rid themselves of a few of those people now, and the network was getting smaller.

One book made her stall, and she paused to look at its spine. Yes, yes, it was the very book her father had used to teach her about her own energy. It had been based off Tesla’s findings and a rarity even before the shift.

She pulled it out and browsed through it, flicking through to the back. And there it was, the faint marks she had been hoping to find: her father’s coding in pencil. She snapped the book shut and tucked it under her arm. If this was here, then the other must be! The looters had no idea of the value of what they had stolen from her family if they then returned it so easily for public consumption.

She continued her search, this time with more enthusiasm and just as she was about to give up hope, she found it. Oh yes, the book that could be the undoing of her assailant, the big fat oaf! If this was here, then he didn’t have that knowledge. Had he known of its existence? Tricky didn’t think so. Her father was one to keep his findings to himself, or only sharing them with those he trusted, and Douglas Bottle was not among them. He had known Bottle, she was sure of that, so maybe there’d been a reason; maybe he had known Bottle was corrupt.

Either way, herein would lie the answer to her being able to run rings round the bloated hippy. She would dim the garishly bright clothing he saw fit to swathe his over grown body in; she would bring an end to him, if not actually, this book provided her with the know-how of doing it metaphysically. Oh yes, his time in this world would now be shortened.

But first she had to find a way to keep hold of these books. You were allowed to come and read and even to borrow, but to take permanently was more Tricky. But Tricky she was and would always be. No one would even know she’d been here – or the books either.