SPF: The protest

It has certainly been a while, but I’m definitely glad to see that this challenge is still going 🙂 check out this great challenge here and read everyone else’s take on the prompt.

Photo courtesy of DB McNicol via Pixabay

The protest

The people began to gather in the courtyard. They were dressed in bright colours, aiming to get themselves noticed so the placards they waved would be read. This was the day that they had been working towards. It was also the day someone was finally going to take notice. Months of hard work and planning had all led to this moment. The atmosphere was electric as everyone waited for the start of the march to Trafalgar Square.

As everybody prepared to leave a solitary crow flew down to the empty pavement in front of them and squawked noisily. It was standing defiantly, as if in protest against what was about to happen. It glowered at the people in the front and squawked again.

People glanced uneasily at each other because they did not know what to do in the event of a crow stopping them moving. They did not wish to harm it, and their attempts to make it fly away were having no effect.

In the end, everyone had to filter by in single file. All the time the bird did not move, only continually squawking indignantly.

Nobody knew about the mothers nest nearby, complete with chicks.

SPF: A time slip

DSCF8715Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

Something slapped the girl very hard in her back making her plunge forwards into the muddy ground head first. However, she ignored the pain and pulled herself back to her feet. She had to warn the Royal bodyguard about the assassination plot that she’d discovered. That, and she needed to get away from the people that were pursuing her. She sucked in a ragged breath jumping into the secret tunnel. As she slipped down into the small space, she heard sounds of her pursuers running above, cracking branches and cursing wildly on their way.
As she turned the corner, her whole body froze. It was not only the sounds of voices that unsettled her but also the changes that she noticed. The roof was somehow different, as was the floor. Strange glowing orbs were pressed into walls illuminating the darkness.
Somebody walked towards her without noticing her presence. “In the entrance here, we discovered the body of a girl we later identified as Emily. She had discovered the assassination plot and was trying to alert the guard. Unfortunately, she was unable to stop what occurred the next day.”
Emily sank down and hugged her knees. Did that mean she’d failed?

Written for Sunday photo fiction

SPF: unanswered questions

It does bring a while since I have taken part in Sunday photo fiction. It is a pity to read that the old host has stepped down. However, I am happy to say that somebody else has taken hold of the reins and kept it going.

Here is my attempt:
ayr6Photo Prompt: C.E. Ayr

The little boy stared up at the very unusual sight of a large grey animal in the museum. He tugged on his mother’s arm as his gaze never wavered; “Mummy, what is that?”

“It’s an elephant, Tommy.”

“Elephant,” Tommy spoke to word slowly, making sure he got the brand-new word right. “Why is it in the museum?” It was very difficult for him to understand why an animal should be presented as an exhibition like that.

Without warning, his mother’s eyes seem to mist with unshed tears. “Remember that mammoth a few rooms ago?” She waited for her son to nod his head. “Well, it is a similar reason because this animal is also extinct. You see those tusks? They made of ivory, and some people believed they were better used in ornaments rather than on the animal. They hunted out of existence in the world a few years ago. That was when the ones in captivity were no longer safe. People broke in to kill the animal and get their prize.”

Tommy stood looking at the unfamiliar creature. “But, mummy, it is beautiful. Why would people destroy something as beautiful with this?”

“Sadly, that question will always remain unanswered.”

Written for Sunday photo fiction

200 word story: Disbelief

In all of his life, it had been safer to disbelieve in everything. God, ghosts, the afterlife, reincarnation, Santa, the tooth fairy, and even down to other people or himself. If you believed in nothing, nothing was ever going to let you down. The disbelief was his way of life. It was safe, it was protective, it felt like the right thing to do.

Now he was an old man.

He had carried on with his mundane job, not really wanting to get promoted and not wanting the risk of getting fired.

He was single because he did not believe that anybody would ever be able to love him, and also because he believed he was unworthy of anyone else.

Disbelief was total.

The doctor told him he was going to die because he was refusing treatment. What was the point in treatment when you didn’t believe in the science behind it? Everybody was born to die.

Sitting in his small room he had nothing surrounding him but his regrets. He suddenly wished he had done more with his existence. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing he had some belief to give some comfort.

SPF: No trespassers

24 Sascha Darlington February 18th 2018© Sascha Darlington

It was the talk of the town.

Overnight, a gate had appeared that blocked access to the end of the road. We all know that that house finally got sold, but there was nothing unusual about the building sitting there. Why did the new owners feel the need to build a gate on that street and add a sign saying no trespassing? Were they even allowed to do that? Undoubtedly the road was public property and not part of any personal boundaries?

Not that it mattered as it was the end of a cul-de-sac, but it just seemed a lot of trouble for anybody.

Everybody was waiting to see these new owners, but we never saw anybody coming in or out of that gate. There did not seem to be any security cameras or guards wandering around the place so, naturally, curiosity got the better of us. There had to be some reason it denied anybody access; something those people wanted to hide.

So, dressed in black a couple of us scaled the fence to investigate everything for ourselves. What we found just beyond left us scratching our heads even more.

The house was gone; demolished. What was going on?

Written for Sunday photo fiction

SPF: Really over

23 J Hardy Carroll 11 February 2018© J Hardy Carroll

It seemed like the door had remained closed for as long as memories existed. This wasn’t the case that nobody was allowed entry apart from one small person encased within the room. The door was only opened to allow food and drinks to be taken inside.
Funnily enough, the person within the room was not a prisoner. They were not forced to stay in the place but it was their choice. It seemed surprising anybody would choose such an existence but, it turns out, there are many people in the world similar to that person inside the room.
The morning the door cracked open was something that people would never forget. The person staggered outside revealing space covered in sticky notes, crumpled paper, and long forgotten cups of beverage. They ran a hand through the tangled mass of hair and blinked in the morning sunlight. “It is over; really over.” The voice was full of what sounded like disbelief.
They disappeared down that hallway and, out of curiosity, the children put their heads inside of the room to find out what the commotion was about. On the computer the words ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – final draft’ shone prominently.

Written for Sunday photo fiction

I would love it if you read my story that I just published on @inkitt https://www.inkitt.com/stories/199891?utm_source=share_author_reminder #amwriting #inkitt


















SPF: Cartoons aren’t always fun

20 CEAyr January 21st 2018© C E Ayr

It was early evening, and Duncan myself had been drinking since the pubs had opened that morning. We had been celebrating because today was Duncan’s birthday and he was finally allowed to have a drink legally.

Staggering home, we had to go past the Windmill was in old man Barney’s field. It was right by the Windmill where Duncan tripped over nothing at all. Naturally, we both had a bit of a giggle about this before ending up sitting on the floor looking at this thing.

“You know, I have always wanted to try that thing happens in cartoons.” Duncan turned to look at my blank expression. He sighed; “you know, that thing where the sails pick up a person and carry them around full circle.”

“Oh, that thing. Well, what harm could it possibly do?”

Of course, that was the question I was always going to regret. Drunkenly, Duncan started towards the Windmill holding up the back of his shirt. The sail came round and picked him up making us cheer. The cheer died away when he reached the top, and the sail turned downwards, so the shirt slid away dropping Duncan to his death.

Apparently, plenty of harm.

Written for Sunday photo fiction