Thursday photo prompt – Mask #writephoto

Sue’s #Writephoto prompt this week:

A tanka was born!

Rising out of flames
Evoking fear with those eyes
Destined to haunt you
A devil walks among us
Which mask does he hide beneath?
Ritu 2017

#writephoto

Thursday photo prompt: Derelict #writephoto

Sue’s #WritePhoto prompt this week.

“Full of potential, so it says. Rustic.  Close to nature.  Compact.  Minimalistic in a traditional way. That’s what the message says.”
John read back the details that the estate agent had sent him. Then looked up at the property.
Now he knew why the guy hadn’t sent a photo. He should have waited a few more days, but Lucy was obsessed with them getting this ‘country weekend home’ sooner rather than later and she was convinced that any properties worth having were snapped up straight away
“Potentially full of damp. Rusty. Nature’s taken over. Shoebox. No plumbing or amenities. That’s what it should have read! Seriously Lucy, let’s just get back in the car and head back. It’s not even wor-“ He stopped.
Oh dear God, he knew that look. Lucy was staring at the ramshackle cottage with a look of pure love.
“Oh Johnny, it’s perfect! Think of what we could do to this place!” She turned to give him the puppy dog eyes… and he had never been able to resist that look…
He felt his wallet lighten with every step towards the building…

#writephoto

Inside-out #writephoto

Sue’s #writephoto prompt this week. We’ve been spoiled with two photos today!

 

Ginny looked at the window sill.
Drat! Another leak!
It was strange.
There hadn’t been any rain the last few days, in fact it had been surprisingly pleasant for a February.
She went off to go and tend to the guests they had staying at the Manor House this week.
A rather rowdy, but well off group of gentlemen, footballers, she thought they said they were. Well, you would have to be well off to rent out a Manor House like this for a whole week!
It was a ‘stag do’ they said, celebrating the last few nights of bachelorhood of one of their number.
Youngsters nowadays, Ginny thought. Back in her day, the men popped to the local for a quick pint to ward off the nerves of the Groom-to-be. Now they celebrated with days of drinking and eating and rather raucous music and behaviour!
They had taken to congregating in the large attics that had been converted. Apparently the acoustics were much better there, for their loud music.
Really, had this been twenty years ago, Sir Rotherham would never have allowed this type of jaunt on his property, but since his death, young Master Rotherham (she still couldn’t call him Sir… ) had taken to finding any way to make money from their estate. No scruples, that young man.
In fact, while this bunch of famous louts were wrecking the place she had looked after for the last fifty years, Master Rotherham was firmly ensconced within their group, enjoying being surrounded by all this ‘money’. He kept talking about selfies with various names she had never heard of, and being ‘liked’ on Insta-chat, or Snap-gram, whatever it was called!
Talking of Master Rotherham, she could hear his voice. He sounded rather high of spirits… probably due to the amount of spirits he had consumed. Never was good with alcohol, that boy…
Ginny went to look out of the window, where she felt the voice was coming from.
Gasping, she took a step back!
Well, that was a part of Master Rotherham’s anatomy that she hadn’t seen since he was a whippersnapper! And now she knew what that ‘leak’ was all about.
Really! Sir Rotherham would be rolling in his grave if he could see this!

I hope you enjoyed my silly tale!

#writephoto

Enigma #writephoto

Sue’s prompt for #writephoto this week was a rather stunning one!

I immediately saw two figures within the stones, and the following story is what came out!

“It won’t do,” Major General Monolith sniffed, “it simply will not do!” He looked down his nose, or as southwards as he could, being a large upright stone, unable to heave his weight around.
Lieutenant Lithotome turned his rather handsome head away from his superior. (Well, when I say turned his head, I mean, it was in the direction it always was!) His rock hand resting under his, perfectly chiselled by nature, jaw.
He knew they would never understand. That Monolith and all the other boulders in charge of their settlement. They could never understand his longing. They had been stood there, staid, old fashioned and unmoving for thousands of years, and so had he.
But instead of remaining there he wanted to go. Be different! He was sick and tired of being stuck in one place. This Lieutenant wanted to see the world!
How? I can hear you asking… Well that is something only Lieutenant Lithotome can answer…
He is still stood there wistfully looking out over the moors. Being the tallest of the crew, he had access to views of the vistas that the others didn’t. He knew it wasn’t all about a small hill and and the green grass around them. He knew there were rolling hills, and strange tracks where he would see vehicles coming and going regularly.
He heard the moveables talking about places they had been to. It wasn’t right, he knew. When any moveables came close, they were meant to turn to stone inside as well as out, unhearing, unseeing, unfeeling. That way when someone gouged out their name on one of the boulders, it didn’t hurt. And those moveables, well they had an awful habit of leaving marks wherever they went!
But Lithotome defied the rules. That was the kinda rock he was. And he heard stories.
But what was amazing was when one family of moveables came back.
A rather portly moveable came over and showed a smaller rotund version of himself a particularly deep almost crevice like hole in the Lieutenant.
“Ere son, see this ‘ere ‘ole? I made that, I did. And managed to knock this chunk of stone off this rock.” He then proceeded to show the mini moveable a piece of stone attached to some leather cord, hanging around the larger form’s neck.
Lithotome almost gasped in shock! A piece of him had come back! And in the moments that the large moveable had held that missing chunk close to him, a gush of information rushed into him.
The small shard from him had almost plugged into him like a memory card, and downloaded images from around the world.
Beaches, farms, deserts, forests. Heat, cold, rain,
So much out there that he couldn’t see.
But he could.
If only he could somehow garner the strength to topple himself over. Then he could roll down the hill, breaking into fragments, and get collected, and taken out into the wide world…
The harumpfh from Major General Monolith bought him out of his daydream. Why had he even bothered sharing his vision with that stuck in the mud old piece of rock?

I do wonder where my mind goes sometimes…..

Deep #writephoto

Sue’s #writephoto prompt this week…

Coming round, I see the light first.
It’s like a beacon, calling me.
Looking around at where I am, I realise that I’ve been living my life wrong, and this warm, cosy place is only going to get hotter, and hotter…
It’s still not too late.
If I can reach the source of the light, I can climb back up, seek redemption, become a better person.
But it’s just so comfortable here.
The climb up looks hard…
Is it worth it?
Saint or Sinner?
My choice.

#writephoto

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