#writephoto – Fallen

fallen1.jpg

Another lovely image and prompt from Sue Vincent, encouraging flights of fancy and other strange phenomena!

I lay beneath the branches of a great oak tree, the world around me flashing blue and white. Trapped inside a maze of bark and green leaves, the lightning continued to strike, searching for me.

How many others had fallen beneath this thunderous white light lost lives, their voices echoing through the woods.

The longer I lay there the more I noticed how the bark marbled its way along the branches, each leaf illuminated by more lightning, revealing a network of veins. Wonders I had walked by many times without noticing the beauty all around me.

Will the lightning take my fallen soul before I am found?

https://scvincent.com/2018/05/10/thursday-photo-prompt-Fallen-writephoto/

Advertisements

The Lost Wife #Writephoto

writephoto.jpghttps://scvincent.com/2018/05/03/thursday-photo-prompt-ascent-writephoto/

spiral.jpg

image by Sue Vincent

Thank you to Sue Vincent for this lovely #Writephoto prompt! This is our first attempt, and involves using a ping back, so hope I have the right head on this morning!

The Lost Wife

When I finished work on Friday, I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my wife all about the creepy old Castle Museum I had visited that day. They needed some renovation work done and I had been called in to give an estimate. She used to love exploring spooky old buildings, so I hoped she would jump at the chance to pay a visit, especially after I finished describing the place.

Tomorrow was Saturday, so I suggested we spend the afternoon there. “You never know, it might be just what the doctor ordered for both of us,” I said, more to myself, for, as usual, she wasn’t listening to me.

“Don’t get lost now,” I called after her, as she took off the minute we walked through the door. Left to my own devices, I took the opportunity to have another look at the renovations.

It was getting late and I hadn’t seen my wife since we arrived. A quick look around confirmed she wasn’t in the museum, so maybe she was in the Museum Café. I asked one of the attendants if they had seen her, only to receive a blank expression and the suggestion to look in the East Wing. “A lot of people seem to get lost in there…”

The East Wing was the oldest part of the Castle and more in need of help than anything I had been shown. It was like stepping into another age, dark, dusty, and smelling of old bones, and deserted.  Ahead of me, an old-fashioned stairway had a NO ENTRY sign hanging from a chain.

I spotted the man I had met yesterday and asked about my wife. “I can’t find her and have looked everywhere.”

“I hope she didn’t go up there,” he said, indicating the old staircase. “Never see them again, we don’t,” He paused, and seemed puzzled. “But didn’t I tell you about that yesterday?”

 

#QuickFire Tuesday: The Cottage

cottage x2.jpg

 

I was reading my morning paper, flicking to the property pages. My morning ritual of looking for houses for sale. And there it was. My cottage, the one I had been dreaming about for half of my life. I knew every piece of furniture and fittings that I would buy to put in it.

I put on my coat and went straight to the estate agents in town. The young man, who said his name was Malcolm, asked me, “And when would you like to view this property?”

“There is no need; I know this cottage very well…”

He looked a little puzzled, but I carried on talking. “There is no chain on either side, a cash purchase, how quickly can I move in?”

Recovering his composure, he said, “With any luck, in about six weeks.”

Signing the papers made my body tingle, and I left the estate agent’s feeling about ten feet tall. On my way out of the door, I heard Malcolm say to his colleague, “There’s a young lady who knows what she wants.”

With a smile on my face, I telephoned work to say I wouldn’t be in that day, that I would be taking the leave owed to me. Then I went on the hunt for everything I would need. My family and friends thought I had lost my mind, but I knew better. I was having the time of my life searching the markets.

Nearly six weeks had passed and I had just one more item that was proving difficult to find. Maybe they were right and I had lost my mind thinking I could recreate everything I saw in a dream. The next day I had a phone call telling me I could pick up the keys to the cottage. My heart skipped several beats and once the keys were in my hand, I searched every shop for miles. I had found everything but for one thing, a blue and white stone for my coffee table.

 

I have lived in my cottage for three weeks and still looking for the last piece of the puzzle. There was a market in the town at the weekend, maybe I would find it there. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough, and looking at all the stalls, I wondered if I would be lucky today. The stone I was looking for was small enough to hold in the palm of my hand. I had walked around twice before I noticed an elderly woman tucked away in the corner of the market. She was polishing something in her hand and I was dumbstruck when she placed my stone on the table in front of her. I picked it up with no hesitation and asked, “How much?”

She looked up at me with strange pale eyes. “To some, it would be priceless. To others, I would say to be careful. It is just £5.”  Handing over my money, I left the market feeling elated to have completed my mission. I hadn’t wanted to hand it back to the woman to have it put in the small paper bag she offered. I put the stone in my pocket, leaving my hand wrapped around it. I felt a strong vibration, so I took my hand from my pocket, half-expecting to see a mark on it, but there was nothing to see.

Back home, after I hung up my jacket, I put the stone on the kitchen counter beside my phone. I switched on the kettle to make a cup of coffee and as I sat drinking it, I looked at the stone, wondering why it had been so important to find it. Picking it up, I moved to the living room and the coffee table where the stone belonged, but something stopped me from reaching across to put the last piece of my miracle in place.

I put my coffee cup on the table, just as the phone rang. I stood up and absent-mindedly put the stone down beside my cup. It was my job, wanting to know when I would be coming back. I said the date should be in the book and hung up. When I made my way back to the living room, the stone was sitting in the middle of the table and the room looked strange, it was fading, the furniture disintegrating, turning into light, tiny coloured lights floating in front of my eyes. It was so beautiful. I reached out my hand to touch the stone, to take it back, but I could not reach it. Whatever was happening, it was happening to me too. I could feel myself melting away…

Anita Dawes 2018

Flash Fiction: 99 word challenge for the Carrot Ranch Literary Community

(This weeks prompt is about Fishing)

lg_102084_WyomingWhite.jpg

The ghost of a clown fish

I always feel like a picture in a colouring book, snow white, waiting for paint to fill in between the lines. Bright orange and white stripes. Blue and red, something to give me life.

I am a ghost swimming in an ocean of colour, shunned by my fellow beings, happy in their part of the universe while I swim alone, unwanted by the brightness around me.

I have seen how easily a child colours in while her father is fishing. I should throw myself on the hook and hope the child can colour in one lonely white clown fish…

© anita dawes 2018

Flash Fiction 99 word Challenge for The Carrot Ranch Literary Community

This weeks prompt was to be about a bat and a bat cave…

white bat X2.jpg

The Ghost Bat

It is said that an old hermit lived in the old bat cave many moons ago.  Children called him the batman, chanting behind him as he roamed the woods for herbs to make his potions.

The villagers never worried about the old hermit, leaving food by the cave for him and children would often watch the hermit make his potions.

He had once been a doctor and he still travelled through the village caring for those who needed his potions. On one of those trips, the children noticed the white ghost bat fly from the folds of Henry’s sleeve…

white bat.jpg

 

This turned out to be a lovely coincidence, coming so soon after the flash fiction about a Raven. Anita had dreamed of a white Raven, so that’s what we wrote about.

This weeks prompt was a bat, so out of curiosity we wondered if there was such a thing as a white bat?

And there was. Something weird going on here, and I wonder what will be next?