For months it was dark, the only sounds were the screaming of the wind and roaring of the ocean that used to be distant. Then the sky cleared and filled with a strange luminosity. Silhouettes appeared, stark angles and dead stumps against the light, holding out broken limbs still dripping. Water? Mud? Slime?
“It’s completely silent,” you said.
“No birds,” I replied softly. The broken limbs were empty and I recognised their gesture—imploring.
“And so dark.”
The sky had taken back the light, spread out its colours, safe and high, leaving us all that we deserved—the darkness.
For Sonya’s Three Line Tales. I do like this photo!
photo by Lalo via Unsplash
The ocean is in turmoil, heaving and crashing with a deafening roar, waves whipped by ferocious currents and tempestuous winds.
Nothing but water moves from horizon to horizon except the screaming gulls, hundreds and hundred of gulls, struggling against the gale.
Even the gulls will tire though, need to settle on land, and when their strength gives out and they fall, crumpled feathers and weary wings, into the waves, there will be nothing left at all.
A 170 character story for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales.
Photo by Glamazon at Pixabay.com
So many have gone, so many faces. She could paper a wall with their photos. She places flowers by a single picture frame, leaves it empty. Her memory provides the images.
This is for Sonya’s Three Line Tales photo prompt.
photo by Andre Benz via Unsplash
The forests were getting untidy, they said, people showed little respect, leaving litter, breaking branches, something would have to be done about it.
After taking opinion polls, and a massive nationwide campaign, the government came up with what people really wanted for the wild natural spaces—
scented pink fluff.
A 211 character tale for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales prompt. I know she doesn’t look like a Hippy really, but you get the idea.
Photo by Graehawk at Pixabay.com
We’ve all had that feeling of being the odd one out, the sore thumb, and when you can’t change your clothes from what you were wearing when you fell under a bus leaving Woodstock, you take it beyond the grave.
For Sonya’s Three Line Tales. Sorry, I’m in an aggressive mood today.
photo by Ty Feague via Unsplash
There was once a jetty here, where boats tied up to swap cargoes of grain and dairy produce for cargoes of silks, fine porcelain and exotic fruits.
The peasants produced food to pay the rent so the landowners could buy their luxuries, which was, of course, the natural order of things.
Famine too, was the natural order when the fields, cupboards and stomachs were empty, and so was the uprising that took back the cargo waiting to be shipped and burned the boats full of silks and other inedibles.
A tale in 250 characters for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales prompt.
Photo by dlife88 at Pixabay.com
There are bars at the windows to stop us flying away, but the sisters are waiting. It’s coming, they say, and when the sky is black with crow wings and the sun and moon are eggs cracked open and eaten, their light devoured, no bars will hold us back.