Here is the winning story for the July 6th Story Prompt Challenge!
Here is the winning story for the July 6th Story Prompt Challenge!
As I lie in the white bed, in a white room, I close my eyes to try and ignore the sounds of machines that surround me.
A place where golden fields ruled the landscape.
Where my body is constantly caressed by the light Northwest breeze, opening my senses to all that nature has to offer.
A place where peace and calm reign.
This is my earthly heaven.
But, there’s another calling to me from beyond this physical realm.
Just as beautiful and serene.
I’m struggling to accept the finality of leaving this home for another.
Am I so bound to this world which makes it difficult to want to move on?
The blipping sounds of the machinery are beginning to fade…
…until all I hear are the songs of doves.
Yum, he thought, that hiker was delicious. And the new clothes were just the right size for him too, though the shoes and the hat were a little too shabby. Yep, he’d been a hiker himself — actually more like on the run, ever since he escaped that circus sideshow — but he’d found a place here that suited him fine. High in the mountains, isolated, plenty of unspoiled water to drink in the stream, and best of all the hunting for food was almost too easy.
Path of Seasons
In spring, the explorer jumps at the possibilities his map presents. One step, the flowers bloom, the rains fall.
Another step and summer blazes. His face is rugged now, the map unnecessary, compass barely helpful. The trail is his friend, adventure his companion.
One more stride and the leaves fall. A look at the map reveals wasted time – why didn’t he travel beyond the known? But now he tires easy and can’t travel as far.
Walking into winter, the explorer takes off his hat and boots. He drops the map, a few new trails marked by his own hand.
*Video for the winning story should be live by early to mid-August.
Congrats to Marge Simon!
She watches as the sun slowly lowered in the purple-hued sky. Another day is done, and she is alone.
Not really by choice. Not directly, anyway.
She blames the booze. She also blames her mother who introduced it to her before she was even in high school. And because of them both, she never saw graduation. Just endless days and months in rehab centers.
All for what?
To end up alone and penniless?
Today she buried her mother. Rather, a woman who gave birth to her. She never really cared for her. Not as much as she cared for those colored bottles that forever littered their home.
Mother died a drunk. That is what she’ll always be known for. Not as a woman who tried to raise a daughter by herself. Not as a woman who nursed sick and premature babies back to health. And certainly not as a woman who became the town’s first female mayor.
No, her life has and will always be linked to the bottle.
For years, she defied her mother. She never wanted to end up like her.
She stood over the wooden casket, deep in the hallowed earth, and allowed the tears to flow. Not for her mother. She was happy that the woman, the thorn in her side, was gone. No, she cried for herself. For her unborn child.
What kind of future will her baby have if her or his mother was a drunk?
Her eyes turn up to the darkening sky. Stars glittering among the dark purple clouds. A soft breeze sweeps over her like a whisper. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head to one side to listen to this whisper as if it has some great secret to share.
With her eyes still closed, she smiles.
She still has something that her mother no longer has…
Another chance of a new beginning.
For this week’s image, write a micro-story (less than 100 words) or a poem, and post it in the comment section below.
Deadline is 11:59pm Monday.
For all entries a poll will be created and the one with the most votes, wins! For the winning piece, a short video will be created.
Just had to do this one! This prompt is taken from Liam J Cross Writing and Editing:
Time to take out the trash.
You sigh as you walk down your driveway. You sigh all the way to the trash can. But when you lift the lid, your sigh dissipates, and you scream.
The lid fell to the cemented ground with a loud *CLANG!* as the sound seemingly echoes throughout the subdivision. You knew you’d opened your mouth to scream, but only air rose from it.
Blinking hard and furious, you peer down once more…
…to see the wide brown eyes staring back.
Your own eyes.
The eyes held the look of terror with the bloodied mouth framed to look as if it was silently screaming. You force yourself to see if the rest of the body was in the garbage can, but the neck had been cut in such a way that it appears like someone had torn the head from the body.
“What sick joke is this?!?” You said.
The only thing you hear was more silence until a breeze sweeps through the grids of cookie-cutter houses, and you swear you hear someone whispering in your ear–
“Behold, your future.”
*Micro-story written for Story Saturday’s weekly writing challenge.
This story is taken from the prompt created by Liam J Cross Writing & Editing:
There is a lot to learn from inquisitiveness. And as you look through the binoculars, you find out just how much.
It was just a stupid dare.
I was visiting a friend who lived near the coast. Crissy. We hadn’t seen each other since high school. I was on break from college, and she had a day off from work.
We were on our way to town when she took a detour out in the middle of nowhere.
“Hey, where are we going?” I asked.
“There’s someplace I want to show you first.” She said.
And pulled off the graveled road. All I saw was this open grassy meadow only I couldn’t see very far as it was covered in this heavy fog. In the distance I could hear a low roar.
“Is that the ocean I hear?” I asked.
“Yep.” Crissy replied.
“So, why are we here?”
“There’s this local urban legend about this place.” She said.
Oh, great. She hadn’t changed much at all since high school.
“Crissy, I don’t want to do this.” I remembered all too well the last time she did this to me.
“No worries, Bec. I promise you won’t end up in the ER this time.” She smiled.
I rolled my eyes at her, and then let out a loud sigh. “I give up. What’s this local urban legend?”
“Some years ago, twenty I think, police picked up a man roaming this field.” She began. “He was shoeless, and mumbling about a girl haunting him. After further prodding, the police learned that a year prior this man had kidnapped a girl, raped and then killed her, and dumped her body into the ocean nearby. He claimed that every night since she would climb up out of the ocean, and go after him in his dreams. He returned to look for her body, but couldn’t find it. He begged the police to help.”
Crissy paused, and looked over at me.
“Did the police help him?”
“Yes, they called in a crime unit to search up and down the coast, but they never found a body.”
“And what happened to the man?”
“The police had him committed to a psyche ward.” Crissy said. “He died a few months later. He was found in bed, strangled to death.”
“Creepy.” I said.
“Yeah. They say that if you come to this place on a foggy day, and look towards the ocean, you may see a girl climb up from the ledge, and then disappear in to the fog.”
“Here.” She handed me a pair of binoculars. “I dare you to look.”
“This is crazy, Cris.”
“I double dare you.” She said with a grin.
I yanked the item from her hands. “For the record, I didn’t want to do this.”
“Be a good sport.” She said.
“Whatever.” I muttered and looked through the binoculars. All I saw was this thick white mist, and nothing beyond. “I can’t see a thing. Now, can we go?”
“You didn’t even really try.” She said. “Scared you’ll actually see something?”
“No, just bored.”
This damn girl…if she wasn’t a friend…
“I hate you.” I said, and stormed away and out in to the meadow.
I walked until I was completely enveloped in the mist. The roaring now much louder. I dared not to venture any further for fear of falling off the ledge.
Crissy loved doing these sort of things to friends. She get off on them mostly by our reactions. Being the only child, I’m sure she did these kinds of stuff for attention since her parents rarely paid any to her.
I took a deep breath, and looked through the binoculars once more.
This time the fog diminished just before the drop off to the expansive ocean where the rolling gray water spread as far as the eyes could see until it met the sky.
I saw nothing else.
Yet, I couldn’t remove the binoculars from my eyes as I continued to stare out towards the horizon. Morbid curiosity pulsed through me as I remained rooted to the spot.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
One more look and then I’ll head back to the car.
Opening my eyes, I scanned the view ahead.
A pair of dirtied hands appeared on the ledge, grasping at grass and dirt.
My god…oh my god…
My hands shook as the binoculars shuttered on my face and the view blurred.
No, I don’t want to see her face.
I spun around and jogged back to the car. Crissy sat on top of the hood. I could see a smirk forming on her mouth.
I shove the binoculars at her. “Yeah. Now it’s time to go.”