#SwiftFicFriday – Week 120 Prompt

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 120 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!

The gist:

  • 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, it’s another scenario! Let’s see how your characters deal with uncertainty. Write a piece where they’re faced with a great unknown – whether it’s a surprise thing they didn’t see coming, or they’re purposely setting out to do something new.

Happy writing!

9 thoughts on “#SwiftFicFriday – Week 120 Prompt

  1. It’s Curtains

    It’s Earth Day again. Crikey, every day is Earth Day if you’re still breathing. That’s my mantra anyway. At least until you pack it in and spend the rest of eternity, for however long that is, squirreled away under the earth.
    I hope not to be celebrating Under the Earth Day anytime soon, but you never know.
    Some do, of course. They kind of take the bull by the horns and gore themselves into oblivion.
    More power to them I say. If they can’t handle any more Earth Days, well then, have at it. Just do it right. Privately. Find a peaceful place and pull the plug. And by that I mean, be neat. Don’t leave a mess.
    The Earth is in quite a mess right now. That’s what they’re saying about this war, that the pollution from bombs and destruction and carbon-emitting tanks and such are wreaking havoc on the environment.
    I’m assuming old Vlad Putin is not celebrating Earth Day.
    More like Scorch the Earth Day is his style.
    But I don’t want to natter on about him. Though I have to say, almost everyone is. It’s that big question mark, isn’t it? THE BIG QUESTION MARK. Will someone drop the bomb? You know which bomb I mean. We all know but we’re trying not to think about it.
    Okay, I’m trying not to think about it but crikey, I can’t stop. It’s whirlygigging in my noggin like a maniacal pinball. Déjà viewing all over again. Dr. Strangeloving all over again.
    Okay! Maybe I’m losing it. Take a breath. That’s me telling myself to take a breath. You do what you want to. Earth Day! Birthday! Mirth Day!
    It’s just another day and there’s not much I can do about it.
    Is there?

    297 words
    @billmelaterplea
    http://www.engleson.ca

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “I hate dumping so much power into one spell, but even future me should have trouble tracing that teleport!”

    Kerri’s voice sounded distant. Mirro’s body felt heavy. And her feet hurt.

    “Now we just need one of your portals, and we should be home free. Mirro?”

    Kerri placed a white-gloved hand on Mirro’s shoulder. She seemed stressed.

    “Hm?” Mirro cocked her head. “My feet hurt.”

    “Okay, but we really need you to open a portal to somewhere safe. We can look at your feet after that.”

    Mirro reached out with both hands but only felt the air. She slid one foot over the ground. The rocks were really rough and pointy.

    “Oww…” Mirro moaned.

    “What’s wrong?” Kerri blanched.

    “My powers are gone,” Mirro pouted, placing a finger alongside her chin. “I think I’m mortal now.”

    “What!? Is that even possible?”

    Mirro shrugged. Poor Kerri seemed about to hyperventilate.

    “Okay, well, I doubt any spell of mine can protect us from future me for very long…”

    “I don’t feel future Kerri would want to hurt you,” Mirro offered.

    “No, but she was trying to kill you! If we can’t use your powers, I guess we’ll have to walk,” Kerri raised her mother’s sapphire-tipped wand with teary eyes. “I’m certain future me can sense my magic.”

    “Perhaps we should split up?”

    “No! You’re my best friend, and you always save me. It’s my turn to save you.”

    Kerri straightened herself and poured her remaining magic into the wand, changing it to pure light that flashed and vanished.

    “Come on,” Kerri picked a direction and started walking.

    “Ow, ow, ow…”

    Kerri returned to Mirro and supported the smaller girl’s arm over her shoulders.

    “Why don’t you ever wear shoes?”

    “If you look at them right, feet look sort of like hands.”

    298 Kerri’s Creatures words
    @DavidALudwig

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Putting Harley down for a nap worked great because I hit a wall of exhaustion, and it was only late morning. I pulled off my shoes and crawled back into the bed, closing my eyes when my head hit the pillow.

    What was I going to do? I’d lived “dead” for decades, happy with my anonymity. And I grew as a person and a woman. I learned how to live on my own and stand up for myself, and fend off men.

    Which totally prepared you for Trigger – not.

    At least he was sticking with me for “the long haul,” whatever that meant. I frowned even with my eyes closed. I thought that meant he’d stick with me until we cleared up the problem with the hitman.

    And now we have to deal with Laurie Stratton, the bounty hunter buddy.

    I couldn’t imagine Laurie actually doing the dirty work himself. He couldn’t be bothered to even pick up after himself when we were married. Hunting someone down took effort and patience he’d never had.

    It’s been twenty years since I saw him. He might have matured.

    I swallowed a laugh and rolled onto my side. No way in hell. That guy made sloths look frenetic.

    But he also never shied away from making a buck and getting back what he thought was his. And I qualified as “his” in his mind. I’d been declared dead so we weren’t married any longer, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t insist we were. I could choose to pretend I didn’t know him or anything about him, but it wouldn’t stop him from coming after me.

    Though if someone could insist on being Anastasia Romanov for decades, I can insist I’m Aeryn Carter as I’d told the police.

    294 #ConcreteAngelsMC words
    @SiobhanMuir

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Rose watched the woman recklessly run through the forest, breaking small limbs off trees, pounding her feet in the leaves and debris on the ground. She wasn’t the least bit interested in being quiet. As she watched, she noticed the woman carried a knife in her right hand.She swung it at anything in her path. Clearly, she was desperate to keep moving.

    “Stop her,” she whispered. The trees ahead of the woman began to move together, closing off her forward path. The trees behind her closed instantly, as did the trees to either side. They forced the woman to stop running, as she realized the trees had trapped her in a small circle, and left her nowhere to run.

    Rose floated into that circle, out of reach of the woman. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

    The woman screamed, and lunged at Rose with the knife. Rose floated up, out of reach. “You’re not nice, are you?”

    The woman sank to the ground, on her knees, as she tried to catch her breath. “I have to escape! They’ll kill me!”

    “Why?”

    The woman didn’t answer Rose. Instead, she stood, and started attacking the trees with the knife. “If they find me, they’ll kill me!”

    “Keep her here,” Rose ordered the forest. “And show me where she came from.”

    Once more, the trees shifted, leaving the woman trapped inside that small circle, and opening up a clear path that showed where the woman had run. Rose took flight once more, and followed the path. The sun sank below the horizon, and Rose still followed the path. When the sun rose in the East the next morning, Rose was still following the path.

    “Where did she come from, and what happened?” Rose intended to find out.

    297 Words
    @mysoulstears

    Liked by 2 people

  5. The Chosen One

    Two men rode through the rain into the village. The village, more of a wide spot in the road, comprised ten small cottages and a tavern. A blacksmith’s shop sat on the far edge, as if it was not quite part of the village.

    “Mordecai, are you certain The Chosen One is here?”

    The older man glanced at his heavily armed companion. “Yes, Norris. As I have already explained, the portents pointed to this village. The Chosen One will be in a house with white flowers.”

    They reined in and looked around for a house with flowers, which just one in the cluster had.

    Norris arched an eyebrow at Mordecai as the older man shrugged and dismounted, Norris trailing him to the door. The two men froze. A woman’s voice carried through the mud-chinked walls as young children shouted and cried. With a worried look and a shrug, Mordecai rapped his staff against the door. The commotion inside ceased, and the door flew open. A dark-haired girl blinked up at them.

    After a pause, the girl called back inside. “Two strange men are here!”

    “Yes, I can see that, Lorali. Come help with dinner and I’ll be right there.”

    The girl spun from the door and disappeared inside. Mordecai and Norris again exchanged concerned glances. Then a woman in her mid-forties appeared at the door, her slightly gray-streaked dark hair pulled into a bun and flour on her apron.

    “Yes?”

    A scar on her cheek, an off-kilter star, drew Mordecai’s attention, just as the portents told. “Madam, we need your help; you have a great destiny calling you.”

    Mother Esmae put her hands on her hips. “I have dinner and four children calling me. Now, may I help you or are we done?”

    293 words
    @dontpanic2011

    Liked by 2 people

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