The Fire

“You are very lucky”, they have said that several times, the doctors, the nurses, the white-coated collection of people who regularly pass through my room.

“Only superficial damage. Nothing permanent.” They say and then they smile. I nod, they tick the chart and they leave. Leaving me alone to dwell on my own superficial life. The cycle has repeated steadily over the last few days since the accident. The worst part to me is the word ‘superficial’. Who came up with that word to be used when my skin looks like it has been dragged backwards through a shredder? I mean for crying out loud, it has the word ‘super’ embedded right in there. So, I am stuck in this bed with my superficial face, dwelling on my superficial life, that had seemed so perfect, on the outside at least, like my skin, when inside my thoughts are consuming me.

It starts with those sleazy facebook psychology questions.

“Would you run into a burning building to save an animal?”… probably not.

“What about your own pet?” Oooh, harder… probably…

“What about a relative?”…yes most definitely.

“What if you got inside that burning building thinking you were saving someone but there turned out to be no-one inside the building apart from yourself? And now you are the one that needs saving? What if the person that then saved you died? Would you feel lucky? Thankful?”

The words swirled their way around my head. Taunting every waking hour. I was sure something had driven me inside that building. I must have seen something… or heard someone… I wouldn’t run into a burning fire for nothing. So, what had lured me there? I had to get out this hospital bed, go back to the building the fire had taken place in, I had to find out.


Originally written in response to Daily Post prompt – Superficial. Couldn’t resist toying around with this prompt, definitely something mysterious about it! I have a few thoughts on how to expand the story but thought the concept was an intriguing start.

KL ❤

It is the Beautiful Bird which gets Caged

There is a Chinese proverb which goes a little like…

Chinese Proverb - beautiful bird gets caged.

…this is where the story begins…

The sounds of the crowds drew her attention first. The excitement, the cheering, it could only mean one thing. The royal party was passing through. Cece pushed out the shop doorway to stand in the street where crowds now aligned each side. She was small framed and fit through the swarms of people to make her way to the front.

As the Royal train approached, she caught her breath, the beauty was beyond words. The musicians announced the approach. The Royal guard arrived first, their heads held high, their uniforms crisp and the horses held strictly in line. As each passed by the crowds pushed further and further forward.

The Royal carriage arrived next with the queen proudly waving from the window. The crowd leant further again. Cici found herself getting crushed, her breath drawing short, she gulped for air. As the carriage passed by the crowd finally gave way but on release Cici fell forward and collapsed to the ground, the rough surface shredding the skin of her arms. A sigh escaped from the crowd, and as Cici sat up cradling her aching arm, strong hands began helping her to her feet. To her astonishment, it was the prince.

“Are you okay?” concern filled his anguished gaze but Cici found her throat completely dry staring into his deep dark green eyes. After a few minutes, silence embarrassment filled her.

“Sorry, yes. Fine thank you.” Cici stammered. As she spoke a guard came towards them and Cici glanced up noticing the royal carriage ahead had also stopped. The queen was staring straight at Cici, her face a mask of fury.

“Sorry miss, we’ll need to move you. Lady Propensus is about to arrive.” Cici rushed to her feet, as the guard spoke. She nodded and made her way from the road back to the crowd. As she did, the prince grabbed her arm and whispered something in her ear. She wasn’t quite sure what it was and the prince walked away then effortlessly swung his body back onto the horse before she could ask him to repeat it, but it sounded like, “I hope to see more of you.” As he turned the horse to ride on, he gave one last wink to Cici, causing her to blush immensely.

As Cici turned to find her way back in amongst the crowd she felt eyes heavy upon her, uneasy she glanced around. Although most eyes, had now moved back to the prince a few gazed upon her, but it was the steely unmoving gaze of the queens stare that had caused the fearful feeling in Cici, turning her blood cold as she pushed her way through the crowd and back to the shop. It was only once inside she heard the queen bark the order for the carriage to move on.

 

Caged image by Sue Vincent.png

Caged photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

 

Several weeks passed and the town was full of excited whispers. No-one saw Cici pickpocket the prince, but the queen swore she had. All of that was forgotten in the frenzied excitement as the prince and his new bride rode down the street. The prince felt the guilt heavy in his stomach. The lady was no looker, not like the fallen beauty who had captured his heart a few weeks before, but the queen had assured him that was not to be his fate and taken care that it never could be. The secret of the innocent beauty was his burden to bear, the only way the queen would grant him his kingdom.



Originally written in response to Sue Vincents #Writephoto challenge – Caged!
Use the image to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… by noon (GMT) Wednesday 17th August and link back to Sue’s post with a pingback. KL❤

Dissolution

The monk put his head down as the discussion got heated. The royal commissioner had just finished reporting his findings and left. His report stating the monks were seriously breaking the rules they should be living by.

The monk knew it was his fault, he had gone to the Royal Commissioner in confidence. He had only meant to get his abbot in trouble, he lived a life of luxury while the rest of the order lived on a pittance.

The Royal Commissioner had grossly exaggerated his report and now the monastery was to be closed, they had a month to leave. Maybe they would reconsider? Or get an endowment to support the monastery themselves?

For now, he’d go to pray…tomorrow was another day.

trust_innocent_liars_tool_stephen king


Story originally written for Writers Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge #WQWWC – Innocent.

How to participate? Select a quote that inspires you. Then write a short piece of flash fiction or poetry to share with us using the quote either in your story or as the title of your masterpiece. Then link back to Colleen at :-

https://silverthreading.com/2016/08/10/wqwwc-writers-quote-wednesday-writing-challenge-innocence/

Go on lad!

Jon stood on the sidelines watching. He hadn’t been picked, it was the same old story, the same old joke. He glanced over at his mother, wondering if she was disappointed. She sent him a smile and a thumbs up, perhaps he’d tell her he was too ill to come next week. The whistle blew and snapped him from his daydream. He glanced over to see his teammate on the ground clutching his leg. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up at his coach.

“Go on lad! This is your chance. Go make us all proud.”

football match - photo by yinglan


Originally written in response to FFfAW. Thank you Yinglan for the photo prompt for this weeks FFfAW’s Challenge – to write a story in 100-175 words (or less) using the above image..

Unearthing the Ancestors – #Writephoto

Sam’s team had been digging for days. The heat had been unbearable, the sun relentless in its crusade against them. Sweat dripped from every pore stinging their eyes repeatedly. It hadn’t mattered, Sam’s craving to know what was inside had overruled it all. And now it was time, the boulder was now ready to move. He nodded at the men gathered around the stone and they each got into position. He nodded again and they all began to push. At first, there was no movement. He urged the men to push harder and little by little grit began to rain down from the wedged stone. With one final heave, it began to roll away.

A cloud of dust escaped from the chamber and landed on the men, obscuring visibility of what was inside. As the dust settled they could make out a hallway between the stones. The men turned to Sam awaiting instructions for who was to go inside but he held up his hand and made his way into the chamber, once inside his men followed.

Liminal - Chamber Photo by Sue Vincent.png

Liminal – Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

 

As he walked Sam’s steps became robotic, an automated movement, his men behind him looked at each other confused, something wasn’t right. As they walked each of Sam’s men began to cough and splutter, finally dropping to their knees and crawling from the chamber. Eventually, only one man remained, he glanced towards Sam’s disappearing shape and back at the direction of the men who had all left him. His throat began to itch. With one last glance at Sam, the man turned and ran from inside the chamber.

Sam completely unaware was now alone in the chamber, yet he continued to walk on and on… Exactly as the ancestor’s voices told him too.


Resisted the temptation to call this story “The Chamber of Secrets” – I’m sure that title has been used someplace else – haha! Originally written in response to Sue Vincents #Writephoto challenge. Use the image to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… by noon (GMT) Wednesday 10th August and link back to Sue’s post with a pingback. KL ❤

Stepping Stones – #writephoto

She walked hastily to the stones. It was her favourite time sneaking across to see him. All her friends told her no. She would get in so much trouble, but it was worth it for those few hours in his arms. They would run through the woods together, share sandwiches together. Last time it had been even more exciting, he had placed a daisy in her hair and leant in and kissed her. She couldn’t believe it and couldn’t wait to do it again.Even the rain couldn’t dampen her spirits.

She skipped happily towards the bay, but on arrival was devastated to see that the water was too high and the stone crossing was hidden beneath the waves. He waved to her from the other side but with little she could do, they both turned away. She stepped slowly and gloomily down the bay until she came across a stone shelter, glancing back she decided she wasn’t too far away, she could wait here until it was clear and then surprise him.

Nestled in she waited for hours listening to the water. Finally, her eyelids became heavy and she drifted off to sleep. She awoke with a start, then remembering where she was and her plan she looked out of her cave towards the stepping stones, they were clear. Clumsily she started to climb from the shelter. Her excitement mounted as she watched him emerge from the trees, had he waited for her too? Then from behind him stepped a girl. That was when she noticed, his hand was entwined in hers and the girl wore a daisy in her hair. To rub salt into the wound, he stopped and kissed the girl.

Walking back from the shelter to her home, her sanctuary, she wiped the dripping tears. She would never tell the others what happened by the stepping stones.

 

Stepping Stones by Sue Vincent

Stepping Stones Image by Sue Vincent

 

 


Originally Written in response to Daily Echo’s #WritePhoto challenge. Use the image to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… by Wednesday 27th July and link back to Sue’s blog.

Another Way

Yan cut through the tiny alleyway.

He knew it was a risk, if the market stall holder caught him here he would be trapped and they would beat him, but if he could just make it to the end he knew he could make his way down several other snickets and away to safety.

He had never wanted this life, never wanted to steal from innocent workers.

Fate had other plans and with a small child to feed he had no choice, but as he ran for his life, he couldn’t help think there had to be another way.

 

Alleyway photo by Jan Morrill

Alleyway photo by Jan Morrill

 

 

Originally written in response to Friday Fictioneers challenge. Using the above image create a short story in 100 words or less.