52 word story: Myths

This tiny story is for Sacha Black’s writespiration prompt. 52 words about what lies behind the waterfall.

the_bewitched_mill_by_franz_marc_1913

Everyone knows that behind every waterfall lies a door to a smugglers’ cave, a magical realm, a fugitives’ escape route, or a parallel universe. The last thing Jason was expecting was an avalanche of water, which is why he persisted in sidling along the narrow ledge until the avalanche washed him away.

Microfiction #writespiration: Holiday

This 52 word story is for Sacha Black’s prompt—The Holiday.

Garonne

She sat on the last bench of the promenade with her back to the shops, the cafés and the big square with the fountain, watching the river as it flowed beneath a huge sky filled with white clouds. Tourists cast a casual eye before turning back to the shops. Holidays. She smiled.

Microfiction #Writespiration: Treasure

This is for Sacha Black’s writespiration challenge—52 words on the subject of: The secret you just discovered.

 

The letter slipped out of the book like a dry leaf veined with spidery writing of a bygone age. It was like unfolding a map to hidden treasure,

Forgive me, Gran,

treasure I was not intended to find.

Grandad. Written from his new life—the address obliterated by slashes of angry ink.

 

 

Microfiction #writespiration: All gone

Sacha wants us to explain, in 52 words, why this room is empty. I don’t think it is. Not quite.

photo-1444419988131-046ed4e5ffd6

He said he was leaving despite the dreams we shared, the home we had started to build, the family we planned. Didn’t think he could live with my ‘mood swings’. So I unleashed my anger, filling the apartment with fury and hatred and destruction—dreams obliterated. He won’t be leaving after all.

microfiction #writespiration: It stared at me…

For Sacha Black’s writespiration prompt, a 52 word story continuing from the intro words in bold.

 

It stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes through the gap between two planks of decking. We’d only been in the new house a week and already it was giving me the willies.

“I don’t know what it is, Jeff, just bring the crowbar, quick.”

The decking was old. The planks lifted easily.

“Oh my God!”

Asimah

This 52 word story is for Sacha Black’s writespiration prompt, to write about ‘the girl that wore the black hood’. It came out as a poem. I found the illustration after I had written the words.

Photo©Nóra Bartóki-Gönczy

Asimah

She drapes her head in black,

so no one sees her eyes,

there is no going back,

seawater never dries.

 

She left him in the waves,

eyelids and lips turned blue,

no prayer ever saves,

no pious words are true.

 

She sees no hope no light,

just one

long,

bitter,

endless

night.

Microfiction: Catering for all sorts

A bit of fun for Sacha Black’s 52 word story. This week the 52 words must include:

stack, juice, pigeon, time

It was time to make the pigeon juice and stack the crow nuggets in the back of the van with the stuffed sea gulls. The buffet was due to begin at noon, and I had at least an hour’s drive ahead of me. These themed lunch parties were getting weirder and weirder.