#Three Line Tales: Solitude

For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Jeremy Bishop via Unsplash



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



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.




For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Michal Vrba via Unsplash



There is something about the sight of children absorbed in a tactical game of skill, wits and intelligence that gives me the creeps.

I imagine them later, older, sitting together again, but this time around a conference table in a boardroom.

Older, the tactics refined and put to other uses, children who never acted the maggot at school plot with cold, dispassionate moves the fate of millions.

#Three Line Tales: First timer

For Sonya’s Three Line Talesprompt. A topical one this week.

photo by Josh Hild via Unsplash


He had been walking all night, set off from his village at sunset and hit the outskirts of the city just after midnight.

The rain had been falling steadily for hours as he walked like a zombie along silent streets where only foxes were about, going through the bins, and by daybreak, he was dropping with weariness.

He found the signpost, slumped in a tired heap outside the door—just had to wait now for the polling station to open.