Category Archives: Fiction

12 Days of Christmas: Moon

It’s the final day of 12 Days of Christmas and this is my final offering, with a nod to the lovely @Rowanwolf66…and thanks for hosting this fun and inspirational Blog Hop.

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (from my calendar!)
Moon
Some thought she was a witch, others thought she was gypsy, she didn’t care what anybody thought, as long as people stayed away.
The cabin was out in the back of the woods, and she had few visitors, if any, which was just how she liked it. 
People could gossip and talk as much as they liked, providing they kept themselves out of her business, and they did, on both counts. 
She kept herself to herself, coming into town just twice a week to collect supplies and trade. She grew vegetables that surpassed any grown in the region, and flowers, and made tinctures, tonics and sweet wine.  
The old women watched her with wrinkled wisdom, the middle-aged women with envy and the young with curiosity. The old men, middle-aged and young men…just watched.  
 A young girl living alone was a danger, they’d say…and they should have been right.  
Such was her beauty that some men made it through the forest in the deep of night, just for a sight of the maiden or for other unsavoury reasons, but rarely did any make it back without scratches and wounds and tales of a voracious hound, and some didn’t make it back at all.
She danced as dawn crept over the horizon, sang as she worked, and wandered through the woods in search of plants. As night fell and the moon rose high in the indigo sky she returned home, and nothing worried her. 
They townsfolk were right she should have been vulnerable, but for the wolf that lay across her doorstep every night. 
And every full moon she left her door wide open and the wolf crept up the stairs and into her bedroom, and under the silver rays her husband was hers, just for the night… 
(296 Words)
Day Twelve: December – Moon
The stories have been amazing…check them all out!

12 Days of Christmas: Feast

Today I rebelled…12 Days of Christmas offers up to 300 words to tell our stories and today’s Feast needed eighty-three more in the telling! My OCD usually keeps me to word counts, but today I’m rebelling!

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
Feast
Jamie hated supermarkets. 
His weekly shop was monthly, once a month and his trolley contained ready-meals, Pot Noodles and a bag of apples. 
Two things changed: his mum sent him a cook book, by his namesake, and Joanne started on the checkout.  He knew her name because he studied her name tag every week when he went shopping. 
The frozen meals became meat and, god forbid, actual vegetables. 
Slowly, once a week became twice, and herbs found their way into his basket along with mushrooms and onions, and Joanne smiled at him as he put his groceries into bags, reusable bags. 
Jamie’s cooking expertise did not come naturally and when Joanne commented how much she liked swede as it passed through the till, Jamie blanched, he had no idea what to actually do with the said vegetable, but he smiled and nodded like he did.
Joanne chatted away as he packed and Jamie grinned and nodded in all the right places, knowing that if he spoke, his words would run away with him and trip right over his tongue and he’d never be able to speak to her again! 
“Lamb, my favourite!” she said.
Jamie smiled, tongue-tied.
“So what’re you making? Oh, silly question…lamb, obviously…”
He nodded.
“I’ve got a great lamb recipe I’ve never tried,” she said flushing under his gaze. “I got Jamie Oliver’s book for Christmas…”
“So did I!” he managed.
Her smile grew even brighter. “You did! It’s just…I’ve no one to cook for.”
He knew his grin was stuck and it wasn’t going to move. 
“What about you?” she asked, “Anyone?”
He shook his head and squeezed out the words. “No one, just me.”
“I’m sorry, I’m holding onto these like an idiot!” She placed carrots into his bag. “Well, I hope the lamb tastes good!” Jamie paid and grabbed his bags, his stomach twisting. 
Before he walked away Jamie’s mouth moved of its own accord. “Joanne…I really have no idea how to cook lamb, in fact I’ve got no idea what to do with most of these vegetables…” 
“I can help…” she offered tentatively, “I’m finishing in ten minutes.”
“I’d like that…” Jamie’s stomach flipped, like a burger on a grill, as Joanne’s smile lit up his life. “I think it’s time I opened that recipe book!” 
(383 Words)

Day Eleven: November – Feast
Follow the other writers and stories!

12 Days of Christmas: Spirit

A tale of possession awaits Day Ten of 12 Days of Christmas:

Spirit
She didn’t know what thrust her towards the cemetery, an unusual shortcut home, but she saw him kneeling at the grave, unaware, as she hurried through the church gates. Unwilling to disturb him, she walked quickly down the York flagstone path. As she passed the grave she shivered and her face tingled in the cold chill of winter’s evening. At home, she barely glanced in the mirror before settling for the night with a hot chocolate and book, so her green eyes turned blue, was a surprise the next morning.
It was a perverse desire to see the grieving man again that took her through the graveyard another night, but he was gone and the chill that surged through her was one of guilty disappointment.
Two more nights, and the shortcut became an obsession, but he was never there. 
Cold nights played havoc with her hair, curls loosened and her locks darkened almost as black as the raven watching on a nearby tomb.
The cemetery became familiar and the grieving man a memory until two weeks later when she bumped into him, dropping her bag, as he wandered down the cobbled path. He raised his head, stepped aside and paused as their eyes met. His eyes lit up his tearstained face as he stared at her, and his hand reached out to touch her arm and shivers twisted down her spine. 
His apology coffee became a meal and two weeks later she crossed his threshold. She shivered and glanced in the mirror by the door; she’d lost weight and grown taller. Then she noticed the portrait, ebony hair and blue eyes, and she suddenly knew why he adored her. He watched as the silent raven landed on her shoulder, shivered possessively and vanished…and his love was finally home. 
(298 Words)
Day Ten: October – Spirit
Take time to read all the other stories…

55 Words #40: Never Forget

His lack of memory, they said it was genetic, an unknown mutation, but there was nothing more they could do. They didn’t want any more experimental drugs, scans and tests; they wanted to try something new.
Nellie had been cheap on the black market, something about the demise of the circus…and since, he never forgot.

(55 Words)
@LastKrystallos

Written for 55 Word Challenge…go read the rest! 

12 Days of Christmas: Stories

Day Nine of 12 Days of Christmas …and it’s: Stories, we all love stories!
Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)
Stories
“Could you stay behind please Cara.” Cara sat back down at her desk and spent the next few minutes pulling fluff bobbles from her school jumper. 
“I wish you’d foster that kind of attention on your school work, rather than your uniform Miss Langston.” Cara jumped as Mr Lewis approached. “It’s been noted you’re withdrawn, that maybe, you’re not happy…that maybe…”
There was a knock at the door and his face relaxed. Mrs Taylor walked in. “Sorry I’m late, bit of a rush!”
They both regarded Cara with such seriousness she wanted to laugh.
Mrs Taylor spoke softly. “Cara, we’ve had some concerns and just wanted to be sure you’re okay?” Cara’s shoulders relaxed, maybe they were about to address the bullying. Mrs Taylor continued. “It’s obvious you haven’t been happy this term…” 
Only this term, thought Cara, they haven’t watched me that closely then!
“If we can help…” Mr Lewis flicked through her English exercise book.
“Is this because of my story?”  Cara stared straight at her English tutor. Mr Lewis cast a sideways glance at Mrs Taylor.
“It is isn’t it? It’s fiction you know! All made up!”
“Of course it is!” Mrs Taylor smiled, “Just that if it wasn’t…”
“It is.” Cara rubbed her forehead, “I have an overactive imagination.”
“It’s very lifelike, very real…”
“But it’s not,” insisted Cara.
“But you understand why we’re concerned?”
Cara flushed. “They’re just stories, things I make up and write down…”
Is there anything you’d like to tell us? We’ll always be here.”
Cara shook her head and after a moment Mr Lewis dismissed her.
The school was so intuitive…fiction had raised alarms, whilst her reclusive state at the hands of bullies was missed. Cara didn’t trust the school to put a plaster on her finger, even less a psychiatric overhaul!
(301 Words)
Day Nine: September – Stories
And there are more great stories to read…

12 Days of Christmas: Sea

Day eight and we’re at the sea…

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use)
Sea
Alice went to the beach with one intention.
Not to return.
She walked to the beach, wiping tears away as she approached the dunes, and stood for a moment as the breeze lifted her hair from her face. 
The ocean rolled in, wave after wave, never ending, and she tightened her resolve with a deep sigh.
 She knelt and untied her trainers, kicking them off and leaving them behind as she stepped, barefoot, across the soft, hot sand. 
Her toes wriggled and sand trickled through them, raising a momentary smile, but her legs, now heavy though single-minded, still propelled her towards the shore. The sand kicked up behind her and drifted across the dune, and her feet stepped across the tide line, across the mounds of wet seaweed, and the sand firmed beneath her toes.
She stopped and closed her eyes, allowing the gentle gusts of wind to caress her face, one last pleasantry…and she tried to calm her hammering heart. She braced and breathed in salty ocean air, tasting the salt tracing her lips. She listened to her brain, to her grief, to her despair and stepped forward. 
She opened her eyes as a young girl raced past.
The girl ran into the water, leaping over waves and giggling, she hitched up her shorts, already darkened by splashing water, and stopped. Alice watched as the girl in the orange shirt threw out her arms in abandon and turned her face towards the glorious evening sun, enjoying the simple delight of waves at her feet, wind on her arms and the warmth of the sun on her face.  
Alice sank to the wet sand, tears rolling down her cheeks, and a newfound innocence engulfed her, and her hand gently trailed across her newly rounded stomach.
(295 Words)
Day Eight: August – Sea
Read more…

12 Days of Christmas: Storms

Day seven and we reach storms in our 12 Days of Christmas Bop…and mine’s an ice storm:

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook and Streamzoo (Please do not use without permission)
Storms
They knew it was coming, but they were so far out, so cut off, there was nothing to do but wait.
So they battened down the hatches, like the government had advised, and watched the crazy exodus on the television all cosied up on the sofa. 
The storm was coming, coming from the north and they were the north. 
The television signal vanished as the storm arrived. They glanced at each other, smiling nervously, and he took her hand in his, squeezed it, then urgently pulled her off the sofa and led her upstairs.
She gazed out of the window and smiled at the blanket of snow. The trees, silhouettes against the brooding skyline, barely moved and the world was silent except for the heavy patter of falling snow. She fell into his arms and his mouth hungrily devoured hers.
In the afterglow, his arm cradled her and his hand gently stroked her bare thigh as she lie with her back against his stomach and she sighed. The snow had stopped and the room lightened, a cold brightness filled the air and she clasped his hand in hers. 
It was silent when it came.
They watched Jack Frost’s masterpiece overlay the window, outside and in, and they followed the frost as it bathed the walls. She watched it spread across the sheets and their entwined hands and she felt her toes disappear. Ice travelled up her body in exquisite contrast to the fiery heat enveloping her just a few minutes ago. Feathers of rime patterned her arms and her face grew tight as it froze. She felt his heart beat against her back and closed her eyes as the ice danced across her frigid eyelids, and moments later their heartbeats vanished as the storm quickly passed.
(296 Words)
Day Seven: July – Storms
And there are more great stories to read…

Flood

FLOOD in its entirety: 
The first 301 words are a 12 Days of Christmas Blog Hop prequel to the further 26 days of Blogflash 2012:

Flood 


Sun
“I don’t like this dear…”
“Nor me…”
“When do we go back to land?”
“I don’t know sweetheart.”
“Should we navigate back to shore now, to the marina?”
“Well that was my first idea, but the instruments are playing up…”
“How do you mean?”
“I can’t get anything on screen, and the radio’s not doing anything, it’s just dead. No, stay here, I’m not sure we should go up on deck.”
“Why not? I’ve got a torch.”
“What time would you put us at? Or even what day? The sun’s been gone for days, and all it’s doing is raining…”
“I’ve lost track of the days…”

“It’s Thursday, sweetie. We made it to the boat ahead of the water and we’ve been on the ocean for three days…”
“In darkness.”
“Yes.”
“So where’s the sun?”
“Maybe it decided to stay on the other side of the world…”
“That would explain a lot dear! Three days of darkness…that sounds biblical to me…”
“I don’t think we’ve hit the Armageddon…not yet sweetheart, well I don’t think so, I think there’d be more than just rain, you know fire and brimstone spring to mind…”
“But, three days of darkness…”
“It’s fine, it’ll pass.”
“But why, what’s happened, and why can’t we contact anyone?”
“We did, on Tuesday honey, but the Port Authorities just said stay away from the marina, and conserve fuel, then we lost contact.”
Rain hammered down on the cabin roof and the small boat rocked on the waves.
“So we’re just drifting?”
“We are now…have been for two days.”
“Where are we darling?”
“I just said the panel doesn’t work, I’m getting nothing…”
“Then I’m going up on deck…”
“Careful…”
“Look! I see rays, through the rainclouds, rays!”
“My word! God bless the sunshine!”
“We’re going to live darling!”

Colour
“Didn’t God promise Noah he’d never flood the earth again?”
“He meant the entire world.”
“Well I can’t see nothing but blue from where I’m standing.”
The boat rocked gently on the huge millpond of an ocean.
“I think you have to blame the indigenous for this one…and we have to keep looking. There’s land, there’s definitely land.”
“Just not here.”
“So we keep sailing.” Crystal green waves splashed the hull. “And we follow that!”
The vessel altered course to follow the bow and its exquisite scarlet, apricot, saffron, emerald, cobalt, indigo and lavender colours arcing far across the horizon.

Frustration
“I still think it’s biblical, forty days and nights…”
“Only it wasn’t forty days or nights, dear.”
“No it was more!”
“Typical old British Summer then.”
Water slapped the side of the boat.
“What d’you think happened to those in charge?”
“No idea…it was all a bit of a rush in the end wasn’t it?”
“You think they saw it coming?”
“No…or they’d never have done it.”
“Hmmm, bit more than a rain dance wasn’t it. Think they’d have known drought-ridden soil wouldn’t take that much…” Ominous swirling clouds darkened. “And here it comes again…will it ever stop?”

Sunset
“I’m finding it hard to recall the last sunset we saw on land…”
“Cwtch in closer sweetheart, wasn’t that long ago.”
“Tell me, mmm you’re warm…and it’s getting so cold.”
Beams of sunlight threw a path across the endless expanse of ocean.
“I like being on watch this time of night… It was that evening on the beach, before we lost the beaches and panic set in.”
“Don’t go there, not tonight.”
“Okay, the beach was still clear of debris, just that branch, remember? We watched the sun turn orange then red…then it disappeared into the sea.”
“Just like we have…”

Relaxing
“I’m so bored.”
“Why don’t you go beneath deck and relax? You do look tired dear.”
“There’s nothing to do and the last time I sat watching the damned ocean I was in a deck chair…and we’re running out of supplies…”
“Our supplies are fine dear. Didn’t you take a look at the stuff we picked up the other day?”
“Oh, the box with the parachute? Yes, I s’pose we’ll last a bit longer…and the parachute does mean we’re not out here alone…”
“There you go then, go down below and take a nap. I’m going to catch some rays…”

Journey
“So, how’re you doing down there in the baby boat?”
“Just fine…reclining like a mermaid and dragging my hand through the water. Just keep me attached, don’t let me drift away…”
“There’s only you and me on this boat, only you and me on this whole damned ocean, I’m not letting you go anywhere!” Rippling waves lapped at the sides of the rowing boat and salty tears dripped from the taut, thick rope between both vessels. A light breeze fluttered across the deck. “Couldn’t, wouldn’t do this on my own, we started this journey together and we’ll end it the same.”

Success
“No really, I can see something…”
“Where? All I can see is mist…”
“Over there…I told you we needed a dove!”
“A dove dear?”
“To send out and check for land.”
The wind whistled across the stern and the engine’s soft hum groaned, and coughed and spluttered then was gone.
“That’s that then.”
“We knew the fuel wouldn’t last…”
“Then let’s hope that’s land.”
The boat rocked, silently.
“Do we drop anchor or drift? Or lick your finger and stick it in the air?”
“I’m checking the wind…and that is definitely land…I’m positive! Oh for a dove!”

Greed
“Come now sweetheart, stop crying…it could’ve been worse…”
“I don’t see how!”
“I’m okay, you’re okay…”
“What’s your definition of ‘okay’? Look at these bruises and you’ve got a horrible cut on your head and I can’t get you to hospital to see if…”
“I’m fine!  Bruises will go, at least we’re still here.”
“But with no food, no fuel and they took tools too! That wasn’t land you saw in the distance…”
“Civilian pirates and no scruples. That’s what the world is now. Dog-eat-dog.”
“…and we’re the little dog.”
“Come on, please…don’t cry, please don’t cry…”

Celebration
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“It’s just got really scary, when we saw the other boat I thought we’d be safe, you know…other people…”
“I know.”
“…but they weren’t, they didn’t want to help…they just…”
“I know, it wasn’t what we expected.”
“Not at all! And look at me, I’m shivering!”
“It’s foggy and cold, zip up your jacket.”
“And that makes me more scared; we can’t see anything out there…”
“Please don’t cry…”
Fog coiled around the gently rocking boat.
“Come back here darling, don’t leave me!”
“I’m not, but look; I hid some of the food…chocolate?”

Forest
 “How long does it take to drift anywhere?”
“How long does it take to drown a planet?”
“Do you know what I miss most?”
“Steak and chips?”
“Ha ha, that’s a man’s answer! You fed up with fish eh? No, I miss trees…”
“Hmmm, that worries me.”
“It does? Why?”
“Look around…no trees, the only vegetation is seaweed. What does that mean for the world? I meant it when I said the planet’s been drowned. No trees, no oxygen, no life.”
On the tranquil ocean only the light splash of rippling waves against the hull broke the imposing silence.

Children
“What are you doing down here? Thought I’d lost you!”
“Yeah right…this boat is soooo big!”
“What you looking at? Oh…”
“At least they didn’t take these.”
Album pages slowly turned in the dim corner of the cabin and a framed photograph was held in shaking hands. Tears dripped and splashed onto the inset glass, soft sobs echoed and a heavy sniff, poorly disguised as a sigh, reverberated in the claustrophobic room.
A cloak of grief encompassed the reluctant sailors.
“Do you think we’ve lost them?”
A kiss on a wet cheek was all that could fill the wordless moment.

Books
“Hold on! Hold on tight!”
“I am!”
The boat swayed violently and the squealing wind screamed across the fierce, churning waves.
“Go down below!”
The wind whipped words away. “…not leaving…”
“Then hold on to me…don’t you dare let go!”
Sea-spray soaked the deck and words had to be shouted to be heard above the crash of the ocean.
“I’m expecting a sea-serpent or the Kraken to rise out of this squall!”
“What was that sweetheart?”
“I’m waiting for a Leviathan or the Kraken!”
“Sorry dear, your literary references are going way over my head…much like this storm!”

Different World
“See it?”
“Yes, I see it, but it’s too choppy to reach…”
“We have to reach it!”
“I know, but how? I don’t want to slip overboard…”
“Is there no way you can reach it, even with the pole? What about the row boat?”
“Too choppy, too rough!”
“But we need it, it’ll contain water and we’re on our last bottle…” Waves slapped the hull and sent stinging spray across the deck. “Life didn’t used to be this difficult!”
“Things aren’t what they used to be…”
And the crate, swathed in parachute silk, floated just out of reach…

Graveyard
“Have you thought much about what’s below us?”
“I’m trying not to sweetheart.”
“I feel like a ghost…with bad hair…”
“Look at me, no look at me…in my eyes. We’re alive…barely right now, I know, but we’re alive. No, don’t sigh or shake your head. We’re not down there, we’re not amongst the ruins, we’re here!”
“I can’t even cry…look no tears left, not even salty ones. My hair’s straw, my lips chapped and sore, and we’ve both lost more than a few pounds…we’re ghosts lost at sea.”
“Listen to me!  We’re not dead…yet! We’re still among the living!”

Wild at Heart
“We live! We survive! We’re here!”
“Careful dear, I want to keep you here! Please not so close to the rails!”
“I’m on the edge, quite literally, I’m on the edge, right there, right now!” The boat rode the swell. “I’m right on the edge, see?”
“Yes, I got your meaning the first time you said it, come down, you’re going quite mad…and I’m giggling, so we’re both going bonkers!”
“Then let’s go slightly crazy together…on this foaming-at-the-mouth ocean! Join me, I’m King of the World!”
“Mentioning Titanic might be foolish…”
“Then let us be fools!”

Fireworks
“What the… Did you hear that? Darling? Did you…where are you?”
Clumping footfalls resounded up on deck and a huge bang echoed throughout the darkness.
“Oh hello dear…what are you doing out of bed?”
“Looking for you! What on earth are you doing?”
“Fireworks!”
“They’re not fireworks. They’re flares…emergency flares!”
“But they’re pretty! Have you come to enjoy the party?”
“You woke me. Give me those, I mean it, now! Right now!”
“They’re mine! Watch this!”
“It’s the last one!”
The flare whooshed and erupted flooding the night sky with an eerie cherry-red glow…

Sports
The still cabin air could be sliced by the proverbial knife.
“I’m really mad! I hope you’re happy…no, don’t answer, that wasn’t an actual question. Don’t talk dear, this is my moment you had yours last night. I can’t believe you let off ALL the flares…have you really no idea what you’ve done…no, still not a question.”
“Maybe I just don’t care anymore.”
“Well you should! We had a sporting chance with those flares…you could at least look at me…”
“No, look out the porthole…just look, a buoy! If we can see buoys the water must be receding…”

Night
“Hope runs eternal…”
“‘Springs eternal’ dear. Alexander Pope.”
“Who? Don’t sigh…”
“‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast; man never is, but always…blest. The soul, uneasy, and confined from home, rests and…’ can’t remember the word… ‘in a life to come.’”
“By who?”
“Alexander Pope, an eighteenth century poet. You’re right, hope springs eternal…if the water’s going down we have hope, at last!”
“Come here sweetheart, snuggle closer…”
“Oooh, hope is definitely springing eternal!”
“Give us a kiss!”
Indigo night enveloped the little boat bobbing and drifting on the water and unabashed moonlight streamed in, uninvited, through the tiny porthole.

On Holiday
“You know that feeling? You know the one where you finally see your holiday destination in the distance? That’s it…that’s the feeling. Sweetheart, look over there…this time I know it’s land, there’s nothing else that can be. We’re there, here…look!”
“Wooooah! Don’t drop me! Wow…it really is, it’s really there…land at last!”
“You okay? You cold? You’re shivering.”
“Not cold, just a bit scared…”
“Wipe that tear away, it’s finally over…”
“I know…I know, but I’m still scared at what we’re going to find…”
“It doesn’t matter what we find.”
“And look…right on the horizon…your dove dear! There’s your dove!”

Cooking
“For the love of a dove! I can’t believe it! Honey, kiss me again!”
“Love you darling, I knew things would work out!”
“We’re cooking with gas now!”
“Oooh, I wish we were…bet you’d like that steak now!”
“Food…no more fish…”
“Now I’m drooling, I know that’s not attractive, but I am!”
“Sooo hungry. What are you looking so worried about now sweetheart?”
“Well, we don’t know how high the water rose, we don’t know what we’re going to find on land…”
“Well, that seagull on those rocks over there…that’ll do…”
“Tell me you wouldn’t eat your dove?”
“I would!”

In the woods
“You seeing much with those binoculars dear?”
“There’s a lot of debris…”
“Do you have any idea where we are?”
The boat rose and fell on the waves and an inconspicuous twisted branch narrowly missed the bow as it floated by.
“I think so, I’m looking for landmarks…we’ve definitely been out on the ocean, not inland. There are woods up there across the headland…”
“And in the sea too dear…look, flotsam and jetsam…”
“Aren’t they eels in Disney?”
“I’ll ignore that dear. So how do we get closer?”
“Well we’re still drifting, so we’re not out of the woods yet…”

Blue
“Look at the sky dear…”
“Beautiful blue isn’t it?”
“No, I mean up in the sky…”
“Later, will you help me with the anchor? I think we should drop anchor, there’s no point drifting anymore. If we wait long enough…the water will go down enough for us to actually be on land…”
“No, look! Listen!”
Gulls squawked and the ocean lapped, and a distant rotary hum broke the monotony.
“Is that..?”
“It is! It is! Look…up there, look!”
“You’re kidding me! Shout! Wave your arms, SCREAM!”
“I AM, I AM! Hey, Hey, WE’RE HERE, DOWN HERE!”
“Rescue…at last”

Seeing
“I can barely hear you above the rotors dear…these headsets aren’t easy!”
“LOOK BELOW…”
“I got that! You don’t have to point…or shout!”
Below the scenery was breath-taking. The landscape, known and loved, was gone, vanquished by the ocean in an almost endless expanse of water. The wooded headland jutted out, a high point on the brand new coast, but the newly formed ocean spread wide leaving only small pockets of green; small islands in a sea of blue.
The helicopter’s rotors clacked, trees bent in broken submission, the little boat bobbed below and unspoken words fell as tears…

History
“Storms knocked out communications…”
“Like the lightning did on our boat, losing the radio?”
“Yes, but satellites are pretty much fine now the rain’s stopped and communications around the world are rebuilding via links from ships with satellite equipment.”
“So where’s the government dear?”
“The Major said that when ‘Rainburst’ trials started to deviate from plans they fled to the best military ships. They disappeared when the TV networks went down.”
“That figures, so where are they now?”
“Out on the ocean somewhere. The likes of us left to fend for ourselves…”
“So what of ‘Rainburst’?”
“Torpedoed…to stop the floods…”

Frog
“What’s wrong sweetheart?”
“Everything! This isn’t what I expected…”
“No, but we were out at sea…we couldn’t see what was going on here!”
“Careful where you step dear…mind that, that’s glass…” Fragments of glass splintered beneath planks of wood, razor-sharp sheets of corrugated iron threatened to serrate anything that passed close enough and crushed, fractured homes disintegrated beneath survivors feet. “…everything’s gone…trees down like matchsticks, homes lost…”
“We’ll be okay sweetie…”
“…and illness, we should get our jabs in the Red Cross tent…and Eeeewwww!”
“What else?”
“Frogs…all these frogs!”
“Well, at least it was good for the amphibians!”

Masquerade
“Why’re you sitting down here on your own sweetie?”
“I don’t know what’s left for us…for anyone…”
“Please don’t cry sweetheart.”
“I just don’t think I can keep up this façade, constantly smiling, I’d rather be back on the boat!”
“No you wouldn’t, we have food, water and shelter here…”
“Not enough water but too much water!”
“Got that right, but we’ve got to keep going. You don’t need to smile all the time, nobody expects us to be overjoyed, and life is going to be hard from now on.”
“Hold me darling, just hold me, please just hold me.”

Winning
The ocean retreated, military posts swelled and strengthened with every rediscovered survivor, and the reclamation effort thrived whilst encompassing feelings of both shock and joy.
“Would a rainbow be another promise?”
“For what dear?”
“Not to flood again…”
“God forbid!”
Golden skies threw diamond sparkles over the sea and a path of light across the sand.
“Come on then sweetheart…it’s time to get all hands on deck…off to work…”
“There’s a lot to do, isn’t there?”
“It’s a brave new world out there, and we’re part of it!”
Adam took Evi’s hand and they walked together across the vast shore…

All photographs on this page were taken by and manipulated by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission) 

12 Days of Christmas: Sun

Going for something different today in the 12 Days of Christmas Blog Hop…back in August I did a 30 day Blogflash and I ended up writing a serial called Flood (See next post for the entire Flood). With today’s prompt: Sun, I’ve gone back to write a prequel:

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)
Sun
“I don’t like this dear…”
“Nor me…”
“When do we go back to land?”
“I don’t know sweetheart.”
“Should we navigate back to shore now, to the marina?”
“Well that was my first idea, but the instruments are playing up…”
“How do you mean?”
“I can’t get anything on screen, and the radio’s not doing anything, it’s just dead. No, stay here, I’m not sure we should go up on deck.”
“Why not? I’ve got a torch.”
“What time would you put us at? Or even what day? The sun’s been gone for days, and all it’s doing is raining…”
“I’ve lost track of the days…”
“It’s Thursday, sweetie. We made it to the boat ahead of the water and we’ve been on the ocean for three days…”
“In darkness.”
“Yes.”
“So where’s the sun?”
“Maybe it decided to stay on the other side of the world…”
“That would explain a lot dear! Three days of darkness…that sounds biblical to me…”
“I don’t think we’ve hit the Armageddon…not yet sweetheart, well I don’t think so, I think there’d be more than just rain, you know fire and brimstone spring to mind…”
“But, three days of darkness…”
“It’s fine, it’ll pass.”
“But why, what’s happened, and why can’t we contact anyone?”
“We did, on Tuesday honey, but the Port Authorities just said stay away from the marina, and conserve fuel, then we lost contact.”
Rain hammered down on the cabin roof and the small boat rocked on the waves.
“So we’re just drifting?”
“We are now…have been for two days.”
“Where are we darling?”
“I just said the panel doesn’t work, I’m getting nothing…”
“Then I’m going up on deck…”
“Careful…”
“Look! I see rays, through the rainclouds, rays!”
“My word! God bless the sunshine!”
“We’re going to live darling!”
(301 words)
Day Six: June – Sun
Read the rest…you won’t regret it!

Five Sentence Fiction: Ending

Photograph by Bekah Shambrook (please do not use without permission)

She watched him walk away.
Forget those Princess dreams, forget those ‘love will conquer all’ quotes, forget the ‘happily ever after’, life just doesn’t play those games.
She watched him glance back with pain in his blue eyes and a single tear slipping down his cheek. Her own heart threatened to crack, but the ice was too thick, and she quickly hugged her arms around her shivering body, locked her heart deep down in the icy cavern and walked away.
She refused to look back.

Written for Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction,
take a look at the other entries…