Tag Archives: 750 Words

Door #writephoto

Door – Image by KL Caley

Another day, another dozen old buildings.  A lot of them were called “castles”, some “towers” and then there were the ancient manor houses, though anything newer than 15th century was right out.  This struck me as strange since most of the restoration jobs made these places about as authentic as Disneyland.

OK, I’ll admit, my sense of romance had worn a little thin after the first dozen.  As I entered, my first thought went to lack of indoor plumbing and how cold and damp they must have been.  Brrr. 

And let’s face it, it wasn’t just the castles.  I had lost the romance over pretty much everything in life. 

Life.  It had become a bore and a challenge.

No.  Romance was something for children.

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Den #writephoto

Image by KL Caley

What did they always say?  One of us hairless apes needs just water, food, clean air, shelter and clothing to survive?  Something like that?  And what do we do when all of those things become contaminated?

I think they also used to say “man does not live on bread alone”, but, you know, that’s pretty much all that is needed to survive.

Along with water, shelter, etc., etc.

But I am getting a little ahead of myself here.

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The Fairy #writephoto

Fairy – Image by KL Caley

“Mommy, look, a fairy door!”

“Yes, Timmy, someone was very clever putting that so high up and yet so highly visible from the path.  Now let’s go.”

“Not someone, a fairy…”

“Sure, Timmy, a fairy…”

Twinkles left her hiding spot after the humans were out of sight.  She inspected the door.

Sure enough, someone had put a spell on it so the humans could see. 

Not knowing what else she could do, she went over to visit Glower, the sour fairy, to ask his advice.  Much to her shock, his door was visible as well!

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Island #writephoto

Island – Image by KL Caley

“Avast, Matey!”

“Come on, Tom…”

“Captain Tom!”

“…Captain Tom, your honor, sir, I know Matt has been getting pretty fat lately and must out-mass an elephant by now, but isn’t calling him “vast” a little mean spirited?  I mean, just asking…”

“Shut up Kyle.  OK, let’s launch the ship…”

“The SS Sinker.”

“…The Dread Pirate Ship Black Skull!”

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The Fisherman #writephoto

The Fisherman – Image by KL Caley

I came to the top of the little bluff and froze for a second before instinct kicked in.  Had I been seen?  I allowed myself a quick peak at the fisherman.  He was concentrating on his fly and hadn’t turned my direction, not even flinched. I was sure I hadn’t been noticed.

It had been months since there had been any pursuit.  Even the dogs were worthless when I didn’t want to be found. 

On the other hand, just because there was no active search didn’t mean they weren’t still looking for me.  My guess is that I’d either have to figure out how to resurface with a completely new identity or spend the rest of my life out here, on the run.

I loved the wilderness, so no hurry in finding that identity.

And I loved this little patch of relatively still water, a hidden spot far from the casual person’s eyes, the perfect little private trout “pond”.

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Fantasy #writephoto

fantasy

Photo by Sue Vincent

“How have you been doing during the lockdown?”

“Not bad, not bad.  It’s a good thing we are all readers!”

“Even Chad?  I can’t picture a 17-year-old being content to reading all day.”

“Oh, yes, he happily stays locked in his room, book in hand.”

“Really.  What does he read?”

“Fantasy, I think.”

“Fantasy? A modern 17-year-old boy?”

“Yes.  When I was a kid, I couldn’t put down a book if there were dwarves or elves in it.  Anything even slightly medieval and magical, from Merlin’s Britain to Prydain to Middle Earth to Earthsea, I read them all.  I think Chad is really into it, which is great, though I have to say, I haven’t heard of any of these modern authors.”

“Hmmm.  Have you read any of the books, these so called fantasies of his?”

“Well, no, but I’m sure he said ‘Fantasy’, so I know I’m safe. Here, he accidentally left this downstairs.  I’ll open it randomly and show you by reading a few lines.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s see, page 82, ‘Claudio continued to climb the steps of the castle’s tower, gaining strength with each footfall. He could make out the lush, fertile valley through the occasional window, the moist dew dripping off of the wine-yielding grape vines, and the rounded, forest covered hills just a little farther from the little villa. A mist played over the forbidding lake, though not enough to cover the sensual curve of  Maiden’s Isle.’  Sounds right.  I like the name Claudio.”

“It sounds Italian, not Middle Earth… And some of the language, uhm.  Continue reading.”

“OK, where was I?  ‘Heart pounding in his chest like a war drum, Claudio finally arrived on the top floor. A window stood open allowing the fragrant breeze to tousle his long, chestnut hair, though it did little to cool his sinewy, pulsating muscles. The one door at the top of the tower was closed. Claudio took a confident step towards the closed door, walking like a well oiled machine. It was locked.  He flung himself into it, shoulder first. Nothing.  He took two more steps back, and readied himself for the onslaught, every muscle of his strong, masculine body tensing. But then, a soft word was heard from within, and the door silently slid open with a whiff of perfume.  He didn’t know what destiny had in store for him, yet the feminine scent portended good fortune.  He stopped just inside of the doorway, his rock-hard muscles glistening in the sweat of his effort. Princess Morgan was on the bed, covered only in a translucent silk. He could see the naked form of her body, guess at the treasures hidden beneath. Princess Morgan waved a hand, inviting the daring knight forward. Her hungry eyes devoured him. “Quick, Claudio, before they find you,” she said in a husky voice. He took three large steps towards the bed, shedding his leather armor and armament as he strode towards the princess.  “Yes, my lady.” She smiled and threw the sheet off, revealing her ivory skin.  Claudio feasted his eyes in delight on the soft curves. He raised his weapon of love as his gaze landed on her uncovered…’ Chad! Get you butt down here now!! And I mean now, Mister! Move it!”

“Yep, just what I thought, a fantasy.  Got to go. Bye!”

***

This was written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top is Sue’s and she gave a key word, Fantasy.

Social Distancing Strictly Enforced!

Photo by Shari Marshall

It was so great to finally be out of quarantine and able to visit the tropical paradise that I had spent so much money to go see.  I had been going bonkers, particularly since there was no Internet access and the phones were out of service.  I know it was part of the back to nature appeal, but when sequestered to your room for two weeks, it was terrible!

It didn’t take me long to find my best friend, Mort.  He had arrived with his wife, Peg, and my girlfriend, Cheryl, almost a full week before I did, so was already nicely tanned.  Me?  If I was pale when I reached the island, I was absolutely pasty after 14 days locked inside.

Our initial greeting surprisingly cold and formal, I asked Mort about Peg and Cheryl.  He stared at me for a minute before saying, “Uhm, yeah, well, we’ll see them soon enough…” Continue reading

Darkness #writephoto

dark-clouds-on-a-sunny-day-darkness

Photo by Sue Vincent

A cosmic switch went from “on” to “off” and the darkness followed.

Of course it didn’t feel that way to the people living at the time.  To them, the race to the end was an imperceptible crawl. The Final Event, the “switch”, had been decades in the making and many years in the execution.  Even after the “switch”, the light still hung on for decades and the people were deluded into thinking all was fine as they slowly died out.

But to the planet Earth itself, the span of a few human lifetimes was as nothing, less than a cosmic blink of the eye.

The remaining crew of the spaceship Endeavor, having aged less than five years in the over three centuries of travel at close to the speed of light, looked over the barren landscape of what was once home. Continue reading

Secret #writephoto

secret

Photo by Sue Vincent

“I have tried to understand…” There were tears at the edge of his eyes.

She kept her face as impassive as possible, still as stone.  “Have you?”  She crossed her arms.

“If you ask, perhaps not.  My failing.  I just thought… I felt… You…” His head dropped; he broke the eye contact.

“I assume you are moving on then?”

He raised his glaze, locked his eyes on hers once again.

“That seems to be your wish.”

She nodded once.

He shook his head.  “If only you would show some emotion, anything; anger, sadness, joy that I’m leaving; anything.”

She just stared, her face as emotionless as the door.

“Fine.  Goodbye.”  He turned, looked at the door for a second, and then left.

It was a relief when door closed.  He was close to discovering her secret.

She had long ago closed her heart, locked it up and threw away the key.  He thought that he could reach her, find her, but the days for that were over long ago, when…

She regained her composure, her secret safe once again. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

Dinner out was in order.

She checked that thought and smiled.

Dinner out alone was in order.

***

This was written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top is Sue’s and she also provided the key word “Secret”.

The Guardian #writephoto

Guardian

Photo by Sue Vincent

Stan stopped the little procession at the observation point. From here the sea could be seen stretching to the horizon, but it was the cliffs that caught his attention.

A few faces of rock stared with menace at the sea, the Guardians.  He set off towards those faces, towards the cliffs, without saying a word.

Most would stay at the observation point.  Only two guards followed, two guards and her.

Her presence, a warm welcoming feel, like a fire on a cold night, made Stan frown as he picked his way through the flowers across the steep, path.

Why couldn’t she stay here, a flower amongst other flowers? Continue reading