#SwiftFicFriday – Week 83 Prompt

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 83 Prompt

Welcome to the new and improved flash fiction writing prompt series – #SwiftFicFriday!

I’ve changed the rules, so if you didn’t see my tweet, check them out!

Rules to keep in mind:

  •  You have THREE DAYS (AM Friday-PM Sunday on the east coast) to submit your entry.
  • Include social media links/handles/anything you want to promote (Twitter, FB, etc) & word count in the comment with your submission.
  • Submission must be between 150-300 words.
  • All stories are property of the authors.
  • Winner will be determined via reader votes on Mondays.

Ready, set, write!

Prompt: This week, you get an image prompt! A couple of weeks back I visited Longwood Gardens with my husband and took some great pictures. Here’s one of my favorites to inspire you:

Happy writing!

6 thoughts on “#SwiftFicFriday – Week 83 Prompt

  1. Departures
    Mick stood by the grave as Lizelle was lowered down. A few select friends had come. A few others had declined. Travel was still a challenge, a mental block if nothing else.

    Covid being what it was, what it might be, because it seemed to Mick that each day brought a new variation on the message, not that he was quibbling about the fluctuating messages or the beleaguered messenger, it was just too confusing.

    He and Lizelle had discussed how she wanted to exit. “No frills, Mickey. I have never been a frilly gal. You know that.”

    He had known. Plain and straightforward. Never a wasted word, an extra motion. And her dreams had always been the manageable ones. A new appliance, only if they had the money.

    No debt.

    Never an extravagance.

    Salt of the earth.

    One day, a few weeks before she departed, still strong of voice even as her body weakened, weakened to the point that a walker was needed for any limited movement, she asked a favor of Mick.

    “Darling, as you stand by my grave, as whatever words are spoken, I would like it, love it, love you to close your eyes and imagine a small pond, a soft green stretch of water, perhaps a tiny waterfall tumbling into the pond, and a moss-covered tower off in the distance, and somewhere in that tower, you and I wrapped in each other’s arms, there forever, our love, our dreams…”

    She had drifted off to sleep at that point…but the image had stayed with him, the image and the ever so easy to accommodate request, to close his eyes and embrace her forever in that imagined tower.

    281 words (with title)
    @billmelaterplea
    http://www.engleson.ca

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Karl Victorien paused at the water’s edge. Sun-drenched summer days like these were his favorite. The heat radiating from sky and stone penetrated even his thick skin and made him feel alive. The castle pond rippled melodically, stimulated by the little waterfall under the bridge leading to the forest below. Such peace was his greatest pleasure and always too short-lived.

    Wolves shattered the serenity with a howling snarling cacophony driven by unnatural purpose. He could almost hear the wind of the lupines rushing to surround him. There was only one he had to be concerned with. He turned toward her wearily.

    “You should not have come.”

    The lithe girl in the grey wolf pelts snarled and responded with an obscene gesture. Karl barely rolled his shoulders before Wenona Grey flung herself foot first for his solar plexus. Catching her kick, Karl arced Wenona over his head to smash against the stones ringing the pond. Then the lawn and stones again, for good measure.

    His nemesis was a storm of spinning limbs and swirling water tinged with blood as she recovered from the pond. Karl shielded himself with shackled arms and calloused palms as ancient wolf spirits tore into him in a spectral hunt dragging him back from their master. Wenona emerged dripping, but before she could rush again a shrill whistle interrupted their fight from the base of one of the castle towers.

    “Hey! Can you two cut it out long enough to help me save the world?!”

    A grey-haired drifter in a red trench coat approached from the tower. Wenona and Karl looked dubiously at one another, then back to the stranger.

    “Why would you want us?”

    The drifter lit a cigarette and took a drag before indicating their battered battlefield.

    “’Cause you can do that.”

    297 Fantasy Fighter words
    @DavidALudwig

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Still Waters

    “Mom?”

    “Yes?”

    “How come you never talk about what you do at work?”

    S______. Totally not expecting this. I don’t talk about work on purpose.

    Who knew what was going on in her mind? She thinks deeply but reveals little. She’s straightforward and so much smarter than I sometimes give her credit for and generally placid. And now, for some reason, this topic is on her mind.

    She knows I work in the intelligence field. She’s known for many years to always keep our upcoming plans, whatever they may be, off Facebook. She knows why. What can I say that will satisfy her curiosity and give her something to share with her classmates, but not compromise what I do?

    “Well, I’ll tell you what I can.”

    She nods. Someone in high school said something, I think. She’s shy; she’s been bullied too much over the years because of her slow speech development. That and her autism enables her to shield her thoughts. But, as a single mom, I need to supply an answer.

    I tell her about my work without doing into detail. I give her examples of the types of support I provide to others.

    She nods, asks a few questions. Then she looks out the window, bored.

    She never asks me about my work again.

    She doesn’t have to. I start to tell her things regularly. She always nods and I can tell she appreciates my efforts. But…then and now, years later…I seldom know what she thinks about most things, unless she asks.

    (254 words)

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Walking the streets for days got me nowhere. I didn’t even have dreams at night that helped me find her. That’s the trouble with my gift, I suppose. How random it is, how it suddenly puts something in my head, out of the blue, and changes everything.

    After a week of walking, I needed a break. Deborah told me to go watch the water in the lake at the park, and to walk among the trees and flowers. She knew me, and knew how much that would restore me, rebuild me, so I could keep looking.

    If I’d ever learned what my own feelings were, I would have known my heart was telling me I needed that visit. But, I never was able to figure out what I felt. Sometimes, Deborah had to figure it out for me.

    I’d walked among the trees, and spent hours touching them, their bark, their leaves, the ground they grew from. Sometimes, I thought they talked with me, told me about all the time they’d seen pass, the people that came and went, some who came frequently, and grew old, and stopped coming. Others, who came once, like they were checking a box on a bucket list, and never came back.

    “You know, anyone else would call me a Fruit Loop. Listening to the trees.” I swear they laughed.

    Eventually, I found my way to the lake, fake as it was, just a hole dug in the ground, surrounded by rocks, to help it keep its shape. It had a little man made waterfall on one end. The trees had taken a liking to it. Made the entire place look more real.

    I sat on the grass, and watched the water, and trees.

    And just like that, I knew where she was.

    298 Words
    @mysoulstears

    Liked by 1 person

Tell me what you think!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.