#WRITEPHOTO – Well

Afternoon Everyone,

Welcome to the weekly #writephoto prompt!

Obscured by bushes along a stone walkway, this little pyramid-shaped well could easily go unnoticed if it wasn’t so striking. So what’s its story? You tell me.

Well – Image by KL Caley

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a path amongst some foliage leading to a pyramid-shaped building.

The regulars already know this bit, but for those that don’t:

  • Each Thursday at Noon GMT I will post the #writephoto prompt
  • Use the image and prompt as inspiration to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, as long as it is fairly family-friendly.
  • Please have your entries linked back to the original prompt post by the following Tuesday at Noon GMT.
  • Link back to this post with a pingback (Hugh has an excellent tutorial here)  and/or leave a link in the comments below, to be included in the round-up.
  • Please click their links to visit the blogs of other contributors and take time to read and comment on their work.
  • Use the #writephoto hashtag in your title so your posts can be found.
  • There is no word limit and no style requirements, except that your post must take inspiration from the image and/or the prompt word given in the title of this post.
  • Feel free to use #writephoto logo or include the prompt photo in your post if you wish, or you may replace it with one of your own to illustrate your work.
  • By participating in the #writephoto challenge, please be aware that your post may be featured as a reblog on this blog and I will link to your post for the round-up each week.

If you need some more inspiration or fancy a bit of light reading, check out last weeks round-up.

I can’t wait to read your creations.

Take Care.

KL ❤

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Dance your last dance… – #writephoto

The firelight dancers singing their songs, chanting their chants, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Nothing.

The music starts up again, this time louder, the calling more frantic, more desperate… waiting, waiting, waiting.

Nothing. He still would not appear.

The head of the great circle walked to the centre. All eyes were on him. He nodded to the drummers. They lifted their arms and with a great bang, the rhythm started. He indicated to those on other instruments to join in. The music filled the air and indistinctively the others joined in the great chant, singing and wailing, the noises filling their very soul. The head indicated it all to stop. Stunned the music around him dropped out.

He gave a great scream out into the night, they waited and watched. Masked Figues - Eve image by Sue Vincent

From behind him, a great roar, a shadow appeared and then the figure with the glowing eyes stepped forward. The head fell to his knees and crawled to the edge of the great circle once again. The drummers started drumming, the singers started singing and a great cheer broke through the crowd.

He had arrived.

No-one noticed the head collapse onto the floor. His body now a shell, his soul sacrificed to the great one.


Written in response to Sue Vincent’s prompt – #writephoto. You can join in this weeks image or have a gander through the many interesting posts inspired by this wonderful photo by clicking here.

It’s been a long time since I took part in these challenges (or indeed have done any writing) and I am certainly feeling rusty but I enjoyed flexing those writing muscles and having a go.

KL ❤

Mask of the Gods – #Writephoto

Griffin stared at the dancing fire. Allowing its constant energised movement to fill his soul. He required as much energy as he could consume before the ceremony would begin. The mask in the pocket of the ceremonial robe felt like it was pulsing. Or was that the music? Or his pulse? It didn’t matter all sights and sounds merged to this one heightened moment.

Slowly those around him began to sing. Their voices low merged with the throbbing pulse that seemed to fill the air. Griffin tried to make out the words but nothing was coming through clear. It didn’t matter he only had to know his own words, the words that would change his life, the words that would bring his wife back to him. Even the thought of her made his entire body ache, he was desperate to bring her soul back to the earthly plane. He had traded empires to find the powers to do it, to find the Mask of the Gods. Mask fire image by Sue Vincent

He had never had faith in religion before, not in this day and age, when the zest for life, for living, was too strong to stop and thank some unknown God for it all, that hadn’t seemed to make sense. That all changed when his wife passed, he needed to understand, he needed a reason why he had survived when she hadn’t. He had been so lost in his sorrows he had hardly registered the stranger who had helped him home from the bar and told him of an ancient relic, a relic that had the power to bring back the dead.

Griffin had started to research, started to follow, started to obsess, maybe the world worked slightly differently than he had suspected, and maybe there wasn’t just the one god but the many, and maybe the gods made mistakes, just like humans? Griffin began to wonder if he was chasing the mask or if the mask was coming to him, but little by little the chances unfolded and he had grasped them. At first, it had seemed so unbelievable, the mask was in his hands. Then the agony began, waiting for the blood moon to perform the traditional ritual.

Suddenly the night filled with silence, the others voices had stopped and leader of the group lifted his arm and pointed at Griffin. Griffin froze to the spot. Now? He took the mask from his pocket lifting it slowly to his face and placing it on. He found the words slowly building inside him.

revertetur a morte, uxorem, audi vocem meam, veni ad me

                       Griffin closed his eyes behind the mask and repeated the words louder and louder. The crowd once again began to chant in a low voice. The throbbing sound grew and grew in the night. It felt like the forest around him had joined in the chant, birds singing, bats screeching, frogs croaking. All sending their summons out into the night.

All at once the sound of silence filled the air and only Griffin’s voice was now permeating the darkness. He hesitated to open his eyes but the group leader nodded into the night and with a little more confidence Griffin repeated the summons.

revertetur a morte, uxorem, audi vocem meam, veni ad me

        The flame grew higher, the light blinding, Griffin could no longer see the others in the circle. It was just him and the fire. It seemed to grow hotter and hotter until it was a burning white flame. Griffin’s throat grew so dry he had to break the chant to swallow. The light became so intense he had to shield his eyes. In that moment of solace, he heard a gasp from the crowd followed by an uncomfortable silence. He opened his eyes to see the form of his wife standing where there had just been flames.

He ran to her but she retracted before he could embrace her.

“Oh no, Griffin… What have you done?” her gasp filled the silence of the forest.


My response to Sue’s wonderful photo prompt. Couldn’t resist toying around with this photo, definitely something mysterious about it! I loved it. Managed to combine it with the daily prompt of traditions too. Obviously, all these ancient traditions, I made up! For those that want to know the bit in the thing Griffin chants is a bit of googled latin – “Return from the dead, My Wife, hear my summons, come to me” – or something along those lines. 🙂

If you want to give the prompt a go too, head over to Sue’s Page Thursday Photo Prompt – Mask – and join in the prompt. KL ❤