#SwiftFicFriday W118 – Vote!

#SwiftFicFriday W118 – Vote!

Another prompt, another round of great stories to choose from. Check the stories out below and vote for your favorite!


A Face with No Name-to be sung in a slow bluesy painful lost love sort of way

She was a face with no name.
I saw her in the morning.
She was catching a train,
In the rush hour of the morning.
She was catching a train
In the rush of the morning

I had places to be,
Things to do, obligations.
But somehow I knew
This would be no flirtation.
Somehow I knew
this would be no flirtation.

She was a face with no name.
No idea where she was going.
But I hopped on that train,
my curiosity growing
I hopped on that train,
curiosity growing.

The train rumbled along.
People coming and going.
Humanities’ throng,
full of ebbing and flowing.
A crowded throng
ebbing and flowing.

She was a face with no name.
I was beyond easygoing,
playing a crazy lover’s game
without really knowing.
A crazy lovers’ game
without knowing.

In the crush of the day,
a clustered crowd all elbowing.
In a flash, she went away-
It was all so mind-blowing.
She went away,
and all so mind-blowing.

She was a face with no name,
and in a flash, she was gone.
I’ll never be the same
but I’ll ride this train ‘til I’m done
I’ll ride this old train
on and on,
‘til I’m done.
I’ll ride this old train
on and on,
‘til I’m done.

232 words by Bill Engleson (@billmelaterplea)

It was easy enough to explain disappearances on the old interstate. The desert road was remote and barely maintained on a two-year cycle. If anyone remembered and the budget allowed it. There was a fair chance that anyone driving this way meant to disappear.

The sudden chill on a sunny summer afternoon suggested something more sinister. Clarisse cursed as her jeep shuddered and rumbled. She pulled over to the shoulder. If some spook had messed with her baby, it would be the last mistake they ever made.

The country blonde stepped out onto the desolate highway and shouldered her shotgun. A fogbank rolled over the road, consuming the recently clear day. A figure formed in the fog ahead.

“Come to me.”

The woman’s choked plea permeated the fog and rang in Clarisse’s ears. Clarisse walked toward the vague vision. All she felt was the fog, and the voice had come from all around. Dark hair and dark eyes. The woman was pretty enough. Though Clarisse didn’t care for the sorrow-red around her eyes.

“Come with me,” the woman spread her arms, relief flooding her eyes of shadow and blood.

The woman’s embrace was soft. Gentle. If Clarisse hadn’t been paying attention, she might have even thought it was warm. The woman pulled them through the mist to the most perfect pastoral paradise Clarisse had ever imagined.

“I can take away all your pain.”

The woman’s sympathetic smile sickened Clarisse. People carried on carefree lives in a small town around the pristine highway. This could have been going on for decades. A little weathered roadside cross didn’t fit the aesthetic. One with a crystal pendant identical to the one the woman was wearing.

“Life is pain, sugar,” Clarisse pointed her shotgun at the cross. “And I’m keepin’ mine.”

297 words by David A Ludwig (@DavidALudwig)

On the day Sunshine left the lake, she headed toward the southern edge of the forest, and the foothills of the Black Mountains. On the second day of her flight, she’d found the remains of a village among the trees. She landed, and explored it.

The houses had been burned to the ground. Something awful had happened there. On the north side of the village she found a cemetery. A row of large rocks, arranged, and spaced, like people were buried there. There were no names. On the south side of the village was a mound, with two stakes, the size of small trees, protruding from the ground in the shape of an X. Attached to the middle were a belt, with a sword attached, and a plaque that read, “Burn.”

“What happened here?”

The machines answered, “We will show you.”

They used their technology to project a hologram into the air before her. She saw a happy village, with families, and children. Fathers that hunted, and farmed under the trees. They lived simple lives, within what the land could support. It was a place with no name.

Until an army showed up. An army that killed them all. That butchered them, brutally, indescribably, and burned everything. Sunshine sank to her knees as she watched.

She saw the army leave, heading toward the next village.

She saw Mystica arrive, and watched the White Magic bury the dead, and give them the respect they deserved. Then, she watched Mystica move to the next village, with the speed of White Magic. There, she waited for that army.

She watched Mystica use the White Magic to wreck that army. Mystica had said one word. “Burn”.

Sunshine cried. She’d never known about that place with no name. Mystica never spoke of it.

298 words by Mark Ethridge (@mysoulstears)

The road is so long and I’m so tired
I just wanna lay this burden down.
Through fires I have walked
when ashes rained down,
my hair grayed before my time.
I’ve carried this load in good times and bad
down winding lanes where cold winds blow
and frost rimes my hair.

The road is so long and I’m so tired
I just wanna lay this burden down.
So many miles I have now walked
I no longer know the score.
How much longer must I keep going
carrying this weight few others will bear?
For the darkness it holds hidden inside
seeps into your soul taking root within
and becomes your very own.

The road is so long and I’m so tired
I just wanna lay this burden down.
The peace at the end will be worth the price
of dragging this weight so far,
knowing I carry the weight of so many
that they don’t walk alone.
Someday this journey of mine will end
and I hope I will have done it justice.

The road is so long and I’m so tired
I just wanna lay this burden down.

191 words by Stacy Overby (@dontpanic2011)

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