Three Line Tales: Blue

For Sonya’s Three Line Tales, on hearing the news from Italy.

photo by NASA via Unsplash

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I had a dream last night that I was floating high above the world, so high I could see oceans and continents, so bright, so blue.

I wanted to spread my wings and soar, but my hands were bound, and something was in front of my face as the blue world slipped away out of my line of vision.

The blue, when my eyes blinked open, was the sterile light of a hospital ward, and I stared through a mask, a tangle of tubes and the blur of tears.

Objectif Lune

For Sonya’sThree Line Tale prompt.

photo by Gabriel Ramos via Unsplash

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We all thought he was a crank, with his homemade rocket, out to prove that the earth was flat, Darwin was wrong, God was a spaceman, and the Loch Ness Monster was actually a flying narwhal spawned among the unicorn and mythological beast hatcheries that fake scientists and blasphemers called the Milky Way.

We watched from a safe distance as the captain of the Starship Hergé turned the ignition, revved the engine, opened the throttle, and deployed the flight fins, giggling as the glorified firework burst into the air.

Our laughter turned to astonishment when, with whinnies of alarm, a school of winged multi-coloured narwhals shot out of the bank of cloud as Hergé roared past on her way to Loch Ness in the Sky.

Three Line Tales: Hope

For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Jorge Flores via Unsplash

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The others had gone, fled homeward, hoping to find something left; she was the only one who had stayed behind to pick through the rubble, also hoping something would be left.

The blasts had blown out all the windows, fire had swept through the rooms, and the art materials had ignited in a huge bonfire of aspirations and talent.

The others believed that saving their skins was more important than saving their work, but she would not leave while there was a shred of hope that not everything had been destroyed, then she would decide if there was any future worth running towards.

#Three line tales: Fashion

Sometimes the answer to the photo prompt riddle comes straight away. This is for Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Klaas via Unspalsh

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Silence fell; the telephone finally stopped its dumb-mutt belling and the typewriter its clattering.

The angle poise bent from its superior height and superior design and addressed the typewriter, “If you can’t keep that thing under control, it will be disconnected, and you can take it with you to the scrap heap.”

The typewriter said nothing, but typed out a reply only the angle poise could see—Don’t mention scrap heaps or you’ll set it off again; it doesn’t know that of the three of us, it’s the only one with no retro appeal whatsoever.”

 

 

#Three Line Tales: Solitude

For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Jeremy Bishop via Unsplash

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Sunset sea, the colours in the sky and on the water, peace and quiet, she could watch it for hours.

Beaches, mountains, forests, there were so many peaceful places, she thought, where it should be possible to be discreet, keep to the sidelines, let the wild things take over, just observe.

Yet wherever she looked, however peaceful and secluded, there was always some fool taking selfies.

Three Line Tales: Sky lights

For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Pablo García Saldaña via Unsplash

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It was only when the last engine gave up the ghost, the last generator pumping out electricity to the last street light died, when the sun went down on the last cold spasm of our disconnected, unplugged world, that we saw the stars.

How many decades since anyone had seen the night sky that hung above our heads, stretching from horizon to horizon, full of glittering, silent beauty?

Our jaws dropped in awe as we wondered how we could have been so stupid to have preferred the ersatz dazzle of flashing neon, big screens and twittering artifice to this majestic skyscape, now that it was too late for wondering.