I am used to dreaming, to have one dragged into a nightmare, kicking, and screaming, is a step too far. I am half spying on Pa, as he sits in the shady part of the workshop. I know what he is doing, and it’s not good. The black shadow of my nightmare is chasing Pa across our field. I am firing at him with a small crossbow that I grabbed from detective Snow. Snow has no place in my nightmare, he belongs in Jaye’s mind. Covered in blood, a small bolt sticking out of his chest, he calls for pa to stop. I scream, as I let fly a bolt, it goes wide of pa’s shoulder. Making him turn to look at his only daughter, trying to pin him down with a stolen bow that belongs to a character from Jaye’s book CrossFire. Something is very wrong. I could see it on pa’s face. I love my pa and don’t want him harmed. I must turn with my last bolt to kill detective Snow. I don’t care if he’s not mine to kill off. It’s him or pa, and I choose pa. The last bolt leaves the bow. I hear the sound, which wakes me from my nightmare. My first thought, did Annie save her pa…
( For the visually challenged reader, the image shows a table set for two people. The location seems to be outdoors, in an alley)
They tell me the dark night of the soul is over. They are letting us out of our man-made caves. We can mingle six feet apart. Better than a poke in the eye with a wooden stick, some would say, I’m not so sure. The jury is still out. I drag my small table outside into my sunny yard. Laying placemats for two. I would later have lunch, my companion will be one recalled from my mind, an old friend that passed. much safer than mingling six feet apart.
My lantern lit, each day I sit, I wait My work clothes damp from hands that grope My mask must stay until he comes Gone this past year. A plan, he said, a house to build that must be secure, safe from hands that grope, eyes that see Then I will ask you to be my wife, to live free Vanished from this world, they will say. She was last seen sitting, lantern held In the same spot, waiting Some say she was taken by a dark shadow Others say a prince I believe she found the crystal bridge To a world only she could see I have sat in her spot and wondered No prince did I see, no bridge to cross I made it here, I intend to stay My prince is here, where I left him Warm, in our bed…
This challenge explores Ekphrastic writing inspired by visual art and/or photographs. Anita Dawes from last month’s challenge has provided the photo for this month’s challenge:
Sand They say Hide’s horror Unspoken pain Dead things are planted Dare you enter the bus Hear soft whispers from dead lips Spend a night in the broken shed Where soul eaters wait, shrouded in black All things swallowed by time, under hot sun…
Hey everyone, Finally it’s here! My brand new Poetry and Prose book;
CROSSROADS (Winds of love)
Here’s a sneak peek at the back cover summary;
In the corridors of love, At the crossroads of loneliness, We stand at our most vulnerable. As the winds of love swirl, we are often ill-prepared for the portends and promises they carry; The longing, fear, and deception. The intimacy, and the horrors of heartbreak. But also the hope, renewal and strength from the trials we have survived.
May these Poems, Prose, and Short Stories touch each in their own particular way, And bring us all perspective, compassion, hope and ultimately; Love!
CROSSROADS (Winds of love)
I truly believe there’s something in this book for us all; Shivers, Blushes, Empathy, Awareness, A cacophony of emotions, And much more. All these under the…
Today, I’d like to take another look at dialogue. Because this is such a large topic, I have spread the topic over a few posts. As the post title suggests, we’ll look at ‘punctuation’ around dialogue today.
“I thought you said-“
Penny interrupted, ‘I don’t care what you thought.’
“Now what …” Kelly trailed off.
“Who’s hungry?” Ben asked.
“We already ate Ben.”
The above dialogue shows a multitude of errors.
Top Tip: Let your punctuation speak for itself.
The dashes and elipses show both the interruption and the trailing off. You don’t also need to tell it.
As I’m sure you’ve guessed, the girls didn’t actually eat Ben. They did, however, forget the essential comma so that the readers knows cannibalism isn’t involved. “We already ate, Ben.”
Any time we use a name or endearment within dialogue to…
I left my love in a broken field where no flowers grow. This, written on a card with a red rose lying on top, I found on my doorstep. Who left it or why means nothing to me. I popped the rose in a small vase, dropping the card in my pocket. I left for work and the who drove me mad all morning. There are so many fields where no flowers grow. The unknown author must have a place in mind. Over lunch, the word ‘broken’ struck me, lodging itself in my mind, until I came up with the graveyard. That is the broken field where no flowers grow. I am the ghost the rose belongs to…
Welcome to “Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.” Each week I will be posting a photo I grab off the internet and challenging bloggers to write a flash fiction piece or a poem inspired by the photo. There are no style or word limits.
The image below is from Pixabay.For the visually challenged writer, the photo shows a man staring pensively out of a round window.
If this week’s image inspires you and you wish to participate, please write your post, use the tag #FFFC, and link back to this post. I hope it will generate some great posts.
Thanks to all of you who have participated in these challenges. Your posts have been very creative. Please take a few minutes to read the other responses to this photo challenge.
Please create a pingback to this post or manually add your link in the comments.