Friday Fictioneers – A Walk Through Time

18 04 2013

The sun is shining, maybe winter has finally ended after all. (OK, so ten minutes later it was raining). Either way it’s time for 100 words or thereabouts of fiction based on this weeks photo prompt from Janet Webb. If you would like to join in with the Friday Fictioneers go see Rochelle’s blog. You don’t have to be a writer (I’m not), you just have to enjoy writing.

This week’s photo put me in mind of a short story that I’ve been meaning to write for a while now, so this is a kind of abstract from a story yet to be written!

And of course it’s all based on a true story, and set about a mile from where I live!

(c) Janet Webb

A Walk Through Time

As I walk along the beach, shingle crunches beneath my boots, waves crash in and suck back out again with a death rattle of pebbles.

I see a small wreck pulled up on the beach ahead.

Drawing level with the bare ribs and rotten timbers, a massive shiver runs down my spine as if crossing a powerful threshold. I smell tobacco, feel a presence and hear the whispering in the wind. A few steps further and the feeling fades away like the early morning mist.

Turning around, understanding dawns. I’ve just crossed over the line of the old smugglers path.


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Friday Fictioneers – A Late Night Tale

7 03 2013

Hello all you lovely people! Time for another dose of Friday Fiction, a wonderful opportunity to try out new ideas, themes and styles in a 100 word composition based on a photo prompt. If you’d like to know more, visit Rochelle’s blog. Join in, it’s fun and sometimes even educational!

This week I have mostly been thinking about long-distance hiking. But enough of that, read on … if you dare.

(c) Jennifer Pendergast

A Late Night Tale For Those That Like That Sort Of Thing

Ring-a-ring o’ roses.

The sound of a young child singing echoed down the wide stone stairwell. I edged cautiously upwards, hand sliding along the icy metal handrail. The light crackled, flickered and died.

In total darkness I flattened myself against the wall, hands pressed against cold stone.

The singer started to descend the staircase, edging ever closer. I held my breath and prayed that my pounding heart wouldn’t give me away.

Suddenly the light returned, driving away the shadows. Of the singer, there was no sign. But the last notes of the song lingered in the air.

All fall down.