#FridayPictureShow is a 100 word exactly challenge
Week 14
“There it is,” the oldest girl said. She pointed with her makeshift spear towards a bleached out automobile half buried in the field, one end sticking up.
After the war, people were scarce. Finding two girls alone was surprising. When they told her they had a car she could have, she dared to hope.
Jenny looked at the two girls.
“Why are you here alone?” she asked.
“Mommy went to town,” the girl said, “and told us to stay ‘til she got back.”
“When did she leave?” Jenny asked.
“When the sky fell.”
The bombings, Jenny thought. Eight years ago.
Week 13
Milandra stared out over the waves towards the light house. She had seen it many times; first in her dreams and then in her ethereal travels. In both realms it shone as a beacon, but only in this realm did it guide travelers to safety.
She closed her eyes and internally recited the ritual phrases. Her spirit took flight, rising above her physical form and once again, the lighthouse shone bright on the horizon. But this time something was different, she could feel it, the ether trembled.
As she rose, the light flared. At its very heart was a darkness.
Week 12
“W- Where am I?” Melissa said. She found herself standing in front of a service window like those in some banks. Behind the glass was a shabby old… man? Woman? Melissa couldn’t tell.
“What?” the shabby person began, then, “oh for Christ’s sake.” She turned and yelled, “Somebody tell the boys in ID-Ego-Interface we got another one!”
She turned towards Melissa. “This is the Dream Department, honey. New guy in Subconscious keeps flubbing the process. Now,” smiling, she indicated a sign post with names of places Melissa had read about as a child. “Where would you like to go tonight?”
Week 11
“What the hell is going on here?” the tuxedo clad Police Commissioner roared as he exited the limousine.
“Another victim, Sir,” Detective Farthing said.
“I’m missing the second act to <i>Don Giovanni</i> for this? What’s your problem, Farthing? The Locksmith sends you a key each time he kills! You should have caught him by now.”
“Thought you should see this, Sir.”
“This better be good, Farthing, or your pension and your ass are mine.”
Detective Farthing led the Commissioner to a picnic table a few feet from the body. On it was a plate containing seventeen keys and a button.
“Another victim, Sir,” Detective Farthing said.
“I’m missing the second act to <i>Don Giovanni</i> for this? What’s your problem, Farthing? The Locksmith sends you a key each time he kills! You should have caught him by now.”
“Thought you should see this, Sir.”
“This better be good, Farthing, or your pension and your ass are mine.”
Detective Farthing led the Commissioner to a picnic table a few feet from the body. On it was a plate containing seventeen keys and a button.
Week 8
Madison Harwell panicked as soon as he opened the front door to the apartment building. The stairwell was filled with flashing, streaking light!
Someone or something had triggered the ward he had set that morning.
Reflexively he stepped back out onto the landing and moved to the side of the entranceway, pressing himself against the building.
“Perge liber,” he intoned with a wave of his hand to free the sprites. “Benedictiones de lumine.”
I am getting careless.
Looking around to see if anyone had noticed, he entered the building and began to climb the stairs wondering what might await him.
Week 2
For many years, when I went there in my mind, there was no one. It was a place of retreat and solitude. I could describe it to you but of course it isn’t a real place. Or, at least I didn’t think it was real. Until she was there, waiting.
At a single touch I was hers: The feel of her skin, her thighs brushing against my cheek, the taste of her moist warmth.
I go back each night and she is there. In the mornings I wake weakened and drained but how can I resist?
She rules my soul.
At a single touch I was hers: The feel of her skin, her thighs brushing against my cheek, the taste of her moist warmth.
I go back each night and she is there. In the mornings I wake weakened and drained but how can I resist?
She rules my soul.
Week 3, Entry 1
It was the last thing she could remember. For her eighth birthday, she and her friends were taken to the amusement park. The latest attraction was a new roller coaster.
The cars had left the track at the highest peak. Law suits had closed the park forever.
Bringing her back here was the only way I could get her to understand about the coma and why she was so different now.
She stared at the ruins for a long time.
“How long?” she asked, quietly.
My throat tightened.
“Forty-,” I stammered, “forty-three years.”
The wind blew her gray, streaked hair.
Week 4
Malcolm Murdoch stood in the middle of the room and stared at the walls. The six women were hovering there. He could hear them murmuring and quietly crying.
This was the part of his job he hated. He hated knowing. He hated being right when he had a hunch.
In the hallway outside he heard voices and footsteps. Detective Allens stepped into the room followed by several police officers.
“Alright, Mr. Murdoch,” he began. “What have we got?”
“Six,” Malcolm said. He pointed at the wall. “All along here.”
Maybe now, he thought, their spirits would be able to rest.