Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge: Day Five

Vulpes_zerda_sleeping

In the dry leaves and brittle twigs of the last of the trees, the fox curls and sleeps. Nothing moves, except what is nudged by the erratic breeze. No mice stir, no birds. The fox dreams of scurrying rodent feet, the trickle of rain water running into a stream. She dreams of soft grass beneath her dry, cracked pads, and a cool dark night sky glittering with stars. She dreams of a tiny cry, and the sound is almost real enough to wake her, but her cubs are long since dead, forgotten except in an instinctive memory.

She curls tighter against the dust, bitter and dead, that fills the air that used to be full of the smell of the rain, rabbits, and warm blood. Night is falling, cold comes. She should find her earth and shelter. But she lies still, uncaring. There is nothing left to care for. The cold bites, deeper than a dog bites. Warm blood slows, heart’s pulse falters and stills. The last fox sighs and lets her soul go free.

Last day, last story. I pass the challenge on to Peter Bouchier. I can’t find a blog address for you, Kyra Thomas, but please consider yourself nominated too.

The rules of the Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge are:

1) Post a photo each day for five consecutive days.
2) Attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, or a short paragraph. It’s entirely up to the individual.
3) Nominate another blogger to carry on the challenge. Your nominee is free to accept or decline the invitation. This is fun, not a command performance!

Five photos, Five stories Challenge: Day Four

A NASA photograph today, not mine of First Stars. This kind of thing makes my mind boggle. Same rules apply:

1) Post a photo each day for five consecutive days.
2) Attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, or a short paragraph. It’s entirely up to the individual.
3) Nominate another blogger to carry on the challenge. Your nominee is free to accept or decline the invitation. This is fun, not a command performance!

My nominee is Nat Hall, the Nordic Blackbird.

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Light falls faint from first stars,
So far away, so long dead,
Dark and cold before ever we were born.
Light held in space, aeons old,
Falls into my hands,
With a scattering of dust
And the tinkling music of the night.

Microstory Challenge #2: the winner is…

Mihály_Zichy_Falling_Stars

I wish I hadn’t said I’d pick a winner. If I like something, I like it and tend not to have degrees of likeness. However, I will say that I liked Bill’s offering because it seemed to me to fit the tone of the painting so well. I can’t get a link to his blog, but if he calls back with one, I’ll post it.
Edit: He did, and here it is http://www.engleson.ca

‘Extended once, sweet glory, brilliant glows of light, seraphiming in the sea of sky, suspended on the cusp of glistening dark, glimmering, twice extended in dreadful repose, and then, as if tis’ that recurring dream that will never be revealed, lost.’

I liked Ashen’s (Course of Mirrors) because it is so concise, and I love the idea of soulmaking

‘So each story begins, with the fall – into the valley of soulmaking.’

And I like Laurie’s because it is so irreverent and it made me smile.

‘Just let her go Bernice, she’s nothing but a drama queen at the best of times.’

And bacause it’s my blog and because I like the painting, this is what I came up with.

The time comes for even stars to die, to fall from the firmament in a blaze of glory, while we watch in wonder and awe, and somewhere, someone makes a wish.

Thanks everybody who participated; there wasn’t one entry I didn’t think was a good one. I’ll post e new challenge tomorrow.

Five Photos Five Stories Challenge: Day One.

Ali Isaac, writer, blogger and supermum has nominated me to join in the Five Photos Five Stories Challenge.

The rules of the Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge are:

1) Post a photo each day for five consecutive days.
2) Attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, or a short paragraph. It’s entirely up to the individual.
3) Nominate another blogger to carry on the challenge. Your nominee is free to accept or decline the invitation. This is fun, not a command performance!

I nominate the Aussie with the camera, Laurie Smith. If he’s too busy annoying roos, I’ll let him off.

Here’s my offering for day one: fiction or non-fiction, I’m not certain.

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His street, the one he knew, was filled with the frightening bulk of a monstrous lorry. Men laboured with pieces of furniture that looked unsettlingly familiar, even out of context outside in the street. His family milled about, excited. The biggest one shouted directions at the sweating, labouring men. The other one twittered and fussed with smaller boxes. He looked longingly at the boxes. He had sat in many of them and was disoriented watching them disappear into the shadows inside the lorry.

He waited for someone to remember about lunchtime, but they didn’t. He wandered off, creeping along window ledges and gutterings, down to the street where there were often cat biscuits left out for emergencies like this. He found a few, sniffed them and passed by. Dirty. A car snarled past and he dashed for cover. People on the pavement, a pushchair. Another car pulling out. The street wasn’t safe. He squeezed under a garden door, scuttled through a yard and onto a roof. Birds. Lots of birds. He hunted birds until suppertime.

He ran across the roofs, almost missing the way. When he found his house it was different, empty. The lorry was gone and it had taken everything with it, his people and their noise too. He sat on the wall and wailed at the closed window, but the smells and the echoes were all wrong. There was nobody there.

He slept on top of the shed and waited, waited for days, drinking from the gutter and scavenging in the rubbish the people had left. Then more people came. He perched on the shed roof to watch. They had a lorry full of boxes. He wondered if they were the same. There was a young person too who saw him on the roof and shouted something. The big people came to look and one of them waved her arms and hurled sharp, pointed words. The other one strode towards the shed with anger in his voice.

Cat ran across the rooftops away from the noise and the bewildering anger. He ran until he came to a place he’d never visited before, a wild tangled place where wild cats lived and a rooster. There was food there and company so he stayed, watching and waiting. He watched the door that opened sometimes. A person left food in a bowl and called the cats. The other cats and the rooster watched the food. He watched the person, the door. One day he came when he was called, and the person scratched his ears. The door stayed open, the person waited, so he followed her inside.

That is the story of how Branwell found a new name and a new home.

Microstory challenge #2

Since the idea seems to please, I will make this a regular feature as long as there’s interest. This second challenge is to write a story in one, or if you want to be verbose, two sentences, inspired by the painting,’Falling Stars’ by Mihály Zichy.

Mihály_Zichy_Falling_StarsYou can post your story in the comments box below and leave a link to your blog so that other readers can visit. You can post your story on your blog and leave a link so we can all visit. Either way, it helps us all to get to know one another. I might pick a favourite, and insist that everybody visits the winner’s blog. Then again, I might chicken out, so don’t count on it.

Do pass the word along though. The more participants, the more interesting the challenge.