Thursday photo prompt – The Tower… #writephoto

scotland trip jan 15 107

“Help!”

A cry rang out through the air, across the surrounding fields.

Wilfred looked up from his work. He had been ploughing this particular area for the last few hours and he could have sworn that he had heard cries earlier, but this one was loud, crystal clear.

That voice, whoever it was, sounded in real trouble.

But where was it coming from? There was nothing around here apart from fields. Oh, and that old church.

Come to think of it, the cries seemed to come from that direction. He stopped, as he heard another cry, this one just as clear, but a little bleaker, or so it seems.

Not one to leave someone in distress, Wilfred halted his plough and secured it, then trudged over towards the old church. He didn’t recall ever having seen anyone here, well not for any joyous reason, anyway.  It was usually him and the other farm hands.  Most of the village were afraid to come here.  There were some old stories of people disappearing, never to be found, so apart from the farmer, and his loyal farm hands, no one ventured here.

Wilfred wasn’t fazed by these myths.  He wasn’t one to believe hearsay. Never had. People didn’t just disappear.  There was always a good reason.  It was just the old women in the village sensationalising stories.  Most of these ‘missing’ folk had probably run away from this godforsaken village, not disappeared, to somewhere where they would have a good life, and better prospects.  He wished he had the gumption to do something like that too sometimes.  But he was unable to. His unwell, widowed mother and younger siblings relied on him.  So he was stuck in this job, a job not many coveted, providing for his family.

As he approached the old building, he became very aware of being alone.  The church tower loomed, dark and foreboding, as a silhouette against the golds and russets of the dusk sky.

“Anyone? Help!”

The voice cried out again, and it was definitely here.

As he looked up into the tower, he saw a figure. The voice belonged to what looked like a woman.

“I’m trapped! Oh please! Can you let me out?”

Trapped? How was she trapped? Surely she can get down if she got up there in the first place! Women! Wilfred rolled his eyes and made his way to the door at the base of the tower, which was ajar. “I’m coming up,” he shouted.

The stairwell led him up to a door.  It didn’t appear locked, or stuck.  Oh well… He pushed against the door, that didn’t seem to have any handle. It didn’t take much. As the door opened, he glanced around to where he expected the window to be. There stood a figure with long blonde hair, facing away from him.

“There you go madam, the door is open now, it wasn’t stuck. If you’re alright, I’ll be on my way. I have work to finish.”

He turned to leave but all of a sudden, from behind him, he felt a thump to the back of his head and all went black….

 

In response to Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto prompt, The Tower.

FFF31 – Monster

After a loooong time, Matt The Book Blogger is back with his weekly Flas Fiction Foray musical prompts for a 100 word flash fiction piece.

Neon Music Sign

The song is Inner Dragon’s Monster, not a song I had heard before…

Looking at the back of my hands, covered in coarse hair, I felt my blood boil.
What did I do to deserve this?
I curse the family into which I was born, where we all were suffering the same affliction. We were always told to stick together, because no one would understand…
Every month, as the full moon came out, my transformation began.  I had to hide. No one could know my secret.
It had put a stop to any possible relationships, after all which guy in their right mind would be able to cope with dating a monster like me?

 

Just a short story… The Voices In The Book

Annette Rochelle Aben has reminded me that it is Tell A Story Day today, the 27th April, every year, and as a little tribute, here is a short story I wrote a few years ago, in school, to demonstrate how you use prompts to create fiction. It’s more YA fiction that adult, but I hope you like it!
So, I said I would try to get back into my writing… well here is a recent attempt at some fiction. Please, let me know what you think
book n glasses
It was a scorching hot day in the village.  Rajini was walking to the well to get some water for her mother, who was cooking dinner.  Under a large banyan tree sat a little old man, wrapped up in a white lunghi, with a white turban wrapped around his head, to protect it from the sun that was beating down. Upon his nose rested a pair of wire spectacles.
He was looking at something in his lap, and as Rajini got closer she saw he was reading a book.  It was a large book with big pages.  As she got closer she realised that there was nothing on the page he was looking at.  “Why would you stare at a blank page?” she wondered.
When she was about to walk past the man, he looked up and smiled at her.  She had been brought up to always greet her elders so she put her hands together and said “Namaste”.  “Where are you going, little girl?” the man asked.  Rajini stopped.  “I am just going to fetch some water for my mother.”   The man smiled again so Rajini came closer.  She felt a bit braver.  “Why are you looking at a page with nothing on it?” she asked.
The man pointed to his glasses.  “I have special glasses.  They help me to see what no one else can.  If you would like to try them, come to my house later this evening and I will show you things you would never believe! I live in the small house just behind this banyan tree.”  He indicated a small hut like building just behind him.  “Ok,” said Rajini, intrigued “I’ll see you later!”  She rushed off to fetch the water that her mother was waiting for.
After dinner, Rajini normally would go and play in the fields with some of her friends, so she went out as usual.  But, instead of running to her friends, she followed the path out to the old banyan tree.  It was starting to get dark now, and there was a small flickering light inside the hut.  She gingerly knocked on the side, and the old man’s voice called to her, “Come in, little girl!”
She looked around and saw the book lying there with its pages open, still blank.  The old man’s glasses were on top of the book.  Rajini coughed.  “Oh dear, the dust must have got to you on the way here.  Let me get you some water.”  He slipped out of the hut to where his drinking water was kept in a clay pot.  She was too impatient to wait for him to come back, so Rajini put the glasses on and looked at the book.  Sure enough, there was something there… not words,  but something moving on the page.  She looked closer and it looked like there were four miniature children there.  They were shouting something but she couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.  She leant in closer and put her ear to the page.
“Help! Help! Don’t drink the water!” was what she heard.  Panicking, she dropped the glasses back onto the open page and stumbled out of the hut.  The old man was just coming back with a small steel glass.  “I’m sorry, I forgot, my mother asked me to run an errand and she will be very angry if I don’t do it.  I’ll come another time!” and with that, she flew down the dusty path back home.
Rajini reached home and after a short while was ready for bed.  She lay on her bed, and her mind kept going back to the voices in the book, and the small children she had seen.  What were they doing there?  Why had they been calling for help?  Who were they?  Tossing and turning in her bed, Rajini didn’t get a wink of sleep that night.  “Somehow, I have to find out more about these children.  But how?”
The next day Rajini decided she had to, somehow, have a look at the book again.  But how could she get to it without the old man knowing?  Later on, that morning there was a meeting of the local elders at the village square.  All the respected older members of the community sat together to discuss the goings on in the village. Recently there had been cases of local children going missing.  From their village, in the last two weeks,  4 children had gone missing.  They had gone to fetch water at different times, for their families, and had never come back.  Obviously, the villagers were worried and they wanted to find these children, and prevent any others from going missing.
 Rajini had seen the old man at these meetings before.  Maybe he would leave his book at his house while he was at the meeting.  She decided she would try to sneak to his hut during the meeting.
Just before lunch, when the meeting was in full swing, Rajini crept away from her house and sneaked to the old banyan tree.  There was no sign of the old man, but his hut door was open.  She looked in and there was no one there.  The book, and the glasses sat on the small table by his bed.  Carefully she picked up the glasses and put them on, and opened the book…  There were the 4 tiny children, stood in the middle of the page.  They saw Rajini looking at them and immediately started shouting to her.  She put her ear closer to the page again to hear what they were saying.
“Who are you?” Rajini asked.  One child called back “It’s me, Mohan!”
Mohan?  Rajini immediately recognised that name.  Mohan was one of the little children that had gone missing last week.  “Mohan?  What are you doing in that book?  How did you get there?  Who else is with you?” Rajini asked very quickly. Mohan replied, “Nisha, Payal and Kishen are also here with me.”
Rajini was astonished.  These were the children that had been reported missing, all four of them!
“But how did you get in the book?  Please tell me!  Your families are so worried!  Come out right away and we can go home!  They will be so happy to see you!” Rajini said, excited that she had found these lost children.
“We can’t just come out.  Don’t you think we would have come earlier if we could? That old man, he put us here!  He said there was an amazing fun fair story in the book and if we wanted, we could go to it.  We all drank some water from him, then all of a sudden we shrank and went into the book.  The thing is, there is no fair here… there is nothing here.  Nothing to do, nothing to eat or drink… luckily Nisha and Payal had some snacks in their pockets when they came here so we are eating small bits of them to stop us feeling too hungry.”
Rajini was shocked to hear this.  How could she help these poor stuck children?  “Do you have any idea how to get out?  Or what you have to do to get out of there?” she asked the children. 
The mini Payal piped up in a squeaky voice, “I heard the old man talking to himself one day.  I was the first child he lured into the book and he was saying that he was glad there was nothing to drink in the book because all it would take was a sip of water and I would be back in the real world.  But we have nothing here, so how can we drink water?”
Rajini thought to herself.  What did she need to do to get water to these children?  Then she had an idea.  It was a very brave thing she would have to do, and if it didn’t work, she could also get herself into the same pickle that the other children were in.  “How about if I get 2 glasses of this special water, drink from one, so I shrink, then I should still have the other glass in my hand.  When I get there, we could all drink a sip from the glass and get back to our real world.”  Little Kishen started to cry.  He was only 5 years old and was missing his mummy so much.  “Don’t cry,” Rajini reassured him, “I will get you back to your mummy.”
She went outside to the clay pot where the old man had got the water from.  Near there were some steel glasses.  She took two and filled them both, then took them inside to the book.
“Right, I’m going to do this… I can do this…” but she was scared.  She looked outside to make sure the old man wasn’t coming.  The coast was clear.  Standing next to the book, she took a sip of water from one of the glasses.  Nothing happened.  She put one glass down and turned to go outside, to make sure there wasn’t another water pot outside.  Maybe she had taken the water from the wrong place, maybe there was another special magic pot…
But then, all of a sudden, she started to feel rather strange and with a whoosh she was dragged back. She closed her eyes in fear, and when she opened them, all was white around her.  She opened and closed her eyes a few times. Then she saw the 4 children running up to her.  “Rajini! What have you done? You will be stuck with us now!” Nisha cried.
Rajini looked at her hands and in one was the other steel glass of water.  “Here is where my idea comes into play.  I have some water here.  Please, Kishen, take a sip.  Maybe this will help you.  If this works, run back to the village and tell your mummy and daddy to come fast, with the other villagers, to the old man’s hut!”
Kishen took a tentative sip, and after a few seconds he had disappeared!  “Kishen! Where are you?  We can’t see you!”  they looked up, and sure enough there was Kishen, much bigger than them, wearing the old man’s glasses, which were far too big for him.  “I’m free! Yay! I will get everyone and we will save you too!” He threw the glasses down and ran from the hut.
Next Nisha, then Payal took sips of water and they too disappeared away from the vast white emptiness, back to reality.
Only Mohan and Rajini were left.  “Right, Rajini, we have to go too,” Mohan said.  He went to take a sip but noticed that there was only one sip of water left in the glass.  “I can’t drink this myself and leave you, Rajini.  You were so brave to do this to save us.  What can we do?”
Rajini thought for a moment and then she remembered something. “When I drank the first water to come here, I brought the glass with me as I was holding it.  Maybe if we hold hands while you drink the water we can both go home.”
This was a risk they were going to have to take now.  Rajini could hear voices above them, in the real world.  People from the village were coming.  What if the old man heard and came first, and he managed to take the book before they got out?
Quickly, the children held hands tightly and Mohan took the last sip.  With a whoosh again they were dragged back and as they opened their eyes they were back in the old man’s hut.
“Thank Goodness it worked!” Mohan said.  As they looked up, a gaggle of villagers had arrived.  Mohan’s parents wept with joy to see their son, that they thought had gone forever. Nisha, Payal and Kishen were also with their families.  Rajini looked up and scanned the crowd to see where the old man was.  She couldn’t see him anywhere.
The villagers were starting to ask questions about where they had been, what they had been doing.  Rajini looked at the book… as everyone left the hut, she picked it up, and the glasses, and took them quietly with her.  She didn’t want the man to ever capture any children again.  She walked through the door and saw the clay pot. With a quick kick, she pushed it over so the magic water spilt out, and slowly soaked into the dusty mud floor.  “That should do it.  If there is no magic water and no book or glasses, he can’t do that again!”  She wandered back home and saw a small camp where some travellers were staying.  They had a fire roaring in the middle of the campsite.  She slipped in and threw the book and glasses on it.  As they went up in flames, she thought to herself… where is the old man?  He didn’t come with the others from the village?
She got home and there were many people asking about what had happened.  Rajini and the other children answered as best as they could, and some of the men from the village went to the hut to speak with the old man. When they went there, the hut was gone. The old man had vanished.  There was nothing there, just an old banyan tree.  And where the travellers camp was, there were just the burning embers left, of their old camp fire…. And the glint of metal from the magic spectacles…..
The End

FLASH IN A FLASH – WRITESPIRATION #87

I have been eagerly awaiting Sacha’s next prompt! I enjoy her various twists in her writing games that she challenges us to!

Flash Flash

The challenge?

Get a timer, set it for 120 seconds and when and ONLY when you are ready to do the challenge, scroll to the very end of the post to see the one word prompt. Write hard and fast until your time is up. 

Well, I opened the email for the post at work, and had to impatiently wait until now to actually reveal the prompt!

Then I obediently opened a word doc, set my timer and did the big reveal!

I shall give you my entry first, before the prompt word though!

Warpaint
Slowly she applied it, layer after layer.
The concealer and foundation, then the eyes.
Eyebrows painted on.
Cheekbones highlit and honed to perfection, and a pout to match.
Looking in the mirror, she admired her warpaint, an armour of sorts.
Enough to shield her from the battles she used to face, when people stared at her in horror…

The prompt word was

Armour.

And that was in 120 seconds, honest!!!!! (Or maybe 125…!)

 

It’s All In The Title – #Writespiration 86

Sacha is back with another game to challenge us!

Check it out here.

In the Title

In the post I’ve listed all the titles you gave me.
Pick one (not your own) and write a story in less than 200 words, and tell me which title you picked.
Titles:

  • Under Stone
  • Venus on Earth
  • The Case of the Prejudiced Ghost
  • My Part in the EDSA Revolution 1986
  • Drawn Towards The Sun
  • All aboard!
  • To Have and to Harm
  • End of the Line
  • The Haunted Tide
  • Oath Breaker
  • Buster and Moo
  • The Life and Times of Scott Hughes
  • Paulonious Punk and the Search for an Adventure
  • The House That Wasn’t There
  • Return to Echoing Waters
  • Revelation
  • The Years After Mojo’s
  • Oathbreakers

So, here’s my take…

The Case of the Prejudiced Ghost

“I’m sorry mother, but no, I refuse!”

Mrs Darcy sighed, as well as any paranormal apparition could sigh.

Edgar had become increasingly picky lately about his work, and when he would and wouldn’t go out on duty.

She fondly remembered the days of the past, when they would go off to work together, and any living soul sighted, human or animal, was cause for great excitement! He loved the reactions he got, when he was seen. This gory, ghostly apparition, walking towards them, with his head held in his hand, blood dripping from the severed skull as he approached them.

The screams, oh the screams! A sound of pure ecstasy for them!

Their job was done.

More and more ‘ghost hunters’ and thrill seekers started to visit their house, hoping to view the infamous Edgar Darcy, walking the corridors of the old mansion.

This was around the time it happened.

Edgar got big headed (as much as a headless ghost could!) and started to refuse to perform on demand.

He would peer out of the window and sometimes it took just one look at the people coming.

“Absolutely not mother! They’re wearing…Burberry Tracksuits!”

 

Hope you enjoyed!

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