Horse Justice – Sunday Photo Fiction – April 26th 2015

Every Sunday a new photo is added as a prompt to see what kind of a story the image inspires in you. You should make your story / poem etc around 200 words. Follow the link to for more info
One of my sister's horses. This was just after she rescued it and it was heavily in foal at the time.
Olive stood at the door looking out to the green pastures outside,
”so close and yet so far” she said to herself.
She used to be one of them, running freely in the sun, smelling the flowers and sipping from the fresh stream that ran through  the pasture.
Now she was stick in this dark and stuffy stable, with water that was nothing like the fresh running water in the pasture.
She longed for the refreshing taste of fresh grass and a run, oh what she would give for a run.
For years she had been a favorite of the master.
He took her for a gallop in the fields every morning and every Saturday they would take a trek through the forest and up the mountains.
Oh she missed that.
But she hadn’t seen the master in some time now.
She was older now, had been replaced, by Ruby.
Ruby took everything from her.
Yesterday she saw her chance, some of the younger ones were racing over fences, Olive joined at the last and bumped Ruby in mid air, she took a bad tumble.
The doc was called but it was no good. She had broken her back. She was put to sleep.
Olive suddenly looks excited, the master is coming to visit, perhaps he will let her out to the pasture now.
She whinnies in excitment.
But the doc is there too, he has his gun.
”Oh Olive, what have you done”
244 words
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Why did I do it?

Why

Why did i do it? What was the purpose?

Last year I started to take my whole ‘Writing thing’ quite serious.
I know that I have a book in me, I have the idea, and, without sounding big headed, I think its a Darned fine story. It sounds great in my head, in my imagination it looks even better, movie script sort of stuff.
So after getting my desk and pens and paper and laptop all organized, my mind started to wander, as it does. I started to do what I am sure (or at least I hope) that all aspiring writers have done at some point, I Googled ‘How to be a successful writer’.
Pages and pages and pages of mostly useless information put a halt to any notion I had of writing on that particular day.
The one thing that stuck with me though, was the idea that a blog would help me to get the word out about my impending masterpiece.
So I started this blog, but I have no idea exactly how to make it work for me?
Seeing as this is the first post I have put up about my reason behind the blog and the first mention of my work, then it certainly is not keeping the general population up to date with my progress, which by the way has been pretty slow of late. After an initial mad burst of writing it has slowed to a trickle. Finding time to write in between working and getting the children sorted is proving quite difficult. Maybe this is a project that I need to put aside until retirement? But that could be 25+ years! No I have to find a way.
If anyone has any tips on making the time to get my words down on paper please pass them on.
The one thing that this blog has brought me is creativity. The vast number of challenges that you can undertake, Friday Fictioners, Photo Prompt, Finish the story etc. Wow, there were times when I was stuck on the creative end but they can really get you thinking again and I enjoy reading other writers work and the way the can have a different idea of the same picture. So if nothing else this blog will keep me entertained and thinking, while I am supposed to be working!
Well, I must go and do some work, some of the office colleagues are wondering why I am not on the sales calls so gotta run.
It was good to talk.

Sunday Photo Fiction – Fall of the City

Each week a photo is used as a prompt to get your creative juices flowing. Write a story of around 200 words with inspiration coming from that photo.

This weeks inspired photo is below.

For more info or to take part, follow the link here

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2015/04/19/sunday-photo-fiction-april-19th-2015/

Pewter dragon ornament

Fall of the City

Agranola Fled down the steps of the Banqueting hall, running in the direction of the dungeons.

The city around her was crumbling. The Agracian army was strong and the cities defenses could not repel their attacks.

The only person who could help was Mustella, her love..

Suddenly there was a deafening roar from above, as Cerpi, the agracian attack dragon, swooped from the sky, destroying everything in his path with fire.

The house of worship was split in two with an earth shattering crash, people fled in every direction trying to get to safety, but there would be no safe place in the city on this night.

Agranola ran faster, her heart beating so hard she thought it may explode. She reached the entrance to the dungeon just as another blast of fire illuminated the night sky, the castle watchtower crashed to the ground.

The entrance was unguarded; all the soldiers had been called to defend their king.

She stopped briefly inside the dungeon hallway to let her eyes adjust to the darkness,

“Mustella” she called “where are you?”

She heard him, a faint mumble from the end cell. As she made her way long the row, she noticed that the other cells had been emptied of their prisoners. The stench of damp and dirty flesh was unbearable but she carried on.

Mustella was in the end Cell, the door lay open, but he sat huddled in the corner.

She ran to him and threw her arms around his broad shoulders. “Mustella, we must flee, we must leave now, before its too late”

She lifted his head towards her eyes, she did not recognize the man looking back at her, blood and tears stained his once handsome face, his hair was chopped short and his eyes were sunken in his head,

“Agranola” he said, with a sadness in his voice “It is already too late”

Hope you enjoyed it

Went a bit over with the word count

Buffalo Soldier – Mondays Finish The Story

Buffalo Soldier

They followed the buffaloes and their babies along the trail heading into the woods

The herd was moving at pace and Emmet was struggling to keep up with the weight of the camera and all the gear in the backpack. The sun was high in the sky and the heat was intense. He paused for a second to wipe sweat from his eyes,

Ruth turned and shot him a dirty look ”’come on Emmet, we are gonna lose them” she whispered loudly.

They had been tracking this particular herd across Yellowstone for the past 2 days.Emmet still had not acclimatized to the heat, only arriving from Ireland 6 hours before the two of them had embarked on their journey, Ruth had moved here from Ireland with her dad when she was 5.

Ruth stopped so suddenly that Emmet ran right into her back and they both ended up in a heap on the ground.

“What the Hell Emmet, watch where you are going will you” she yelled, picking herself up of the ground.

“Jeez, Ruth. No point yelling at me, I’m running to try and keep up and you just suddenly”

He looked up at her and stopped talking, Ruth was standing staring out into the clearing where the Buffalo had went.

She had a look of pure terror on her face, frozen to the spot.

“What’s going on?” he had started to say but Ruth suddenly turned around and jumped to the ground, dragging him down with her,

“Don’t say a word” she whispered, “don’t move a muscle”

Emmet crawled towards the edge of the clearing to see what had scared Ruth so badly.

The last of the buffalo were making there way forward into the trees. But that’s not what caught his eye. At the tree line on the other side of the clearing, Barely 50 meters away, Emmet could make out a man, dressed in a police uniform, there was another person lying at his feet.

The man in the uniform held a knife in his hand,

He raised the knife above his head and brought it crashing down into the body. Emmet recoiled in horror.

“Ruth, we have to get out of here” he whispered

“He saw me Emmet, he saw me.” She was obviously in shock

“Who saw you Ruth? Who is that?” Emmet had her by the shoulders now, trying to get her to speak.

“It’s my Father Emmet, that’s my Father”

Emmet began to crawl back in the direction they had come, “We have to tell someone, I have to get to a phone”.

Suddenly Ruth grabbed his leg,

Emmet stopped and turned his head “Ruth!! What the hell?”

Ruth lay on the ground, a gun pointed at him

“You can’t tell anyone Emmet, that’s my Father”

****************

Well over the 200 words,but I got carried away

Each Monday, it’s time to finish the story. The photo from Barbara Beacham above is the media prompt. This week, stories must begin with, “They followed the buffaloes and their babies along the trail heading into the woods.” It’s up to us writers to run with it from there. This is my answer to the challenge. Look here to find what others wrote: https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/04/20/mondays-finish-the-story-april-20th-2015/

Aftermath of a hectic day

Its 6pm.

I stand alone,

Its quiet.

I look around and survey the damage.

Cars are lying everywhere, some upside down, some broken.

One sticking out the front window of the fire-station.

But its quiet,

Oh so quiet.

Hard to believe the mayhem that surrounded me just up to an hour ago.,

It had all started this morning,

Just after 8am, the first gentle sounds that would soon grow to the deafening roar of an ensuing cyclone, ripping up everything in its path.

But its quiet now,

I survey the damage,

The kitchen is filled with unwashed dishes and the remains of an uneaten meal, a cupboard door hangs by one hinge, The floor in the hallway still wet from the flooding, soaking wet towels lay in the bath, a reminder of the massive clean up job earlier.

But its oh so quiet.

I tiptoe around debris, making my way down the hallway.

Listening, I hear the peaceful sounds of slumber emanating from the bedroom.

How could it happen, how could she do it.
Leaving me with the 3 of them, all day.
But its oh so quiet now.
I sit, quietly on the bed.
Its been a hell of a day
I don’t know how she does it
***************
This story is dedicated to my wonderful wife.
Working full time, I don’t think I fully appreciated the work that my wife does on a daily basis.
Yesterday, herself and our eldest daughter went for a day out, leaving me with the younger 3, an 8 year old with special needs, 3 year old and 2 month old, and I didn’t even have to get them organized to leave the house at all. It was a hectic day.

James Mc Niff : VisDare 94: Splice

Here is my take on Angela Goff‘s Visdare Challenge.

https://anonymouslegacy1.wordpress.com/2015/04/14/visdare-94-splice/

Water Way to Go

Hannah stood at the edge of the lake. The bank on the other side was hidden from view by the mist that seemed to surround her all of a sudden. She suddenly felt cold, her wet clothes stuck to her and her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

”Petra” she called out ”this isn’t funny”

”Where are you”

She clambered across the sharp rocks on the waterline, trying to make her way to dry ground, trying desperately to see clearly through the mist.

Petra had begged her for a picnic by the Lake,

”Please” she had said, ”it will be fun”

Hannah knew she shouldn’t leave the castle grounds. Her father, the King had warned her about the danger these times presented. Hannah eventually gave in, it was a hot day after all. Perhaps a dip in the cool water would be nice.

Then Petra disappeared.

Hannah turned as she heard footsteps behind her….

Word Count 152

Friday Fictioneers – Neighbours

Smoke poured from the house next door.
People ran, screaming from the building, women clutching small children to their breast, men running with buckets, blood and dust covering their bodies, desperately trying to extinguish a fire that already had taken a strong hold.
Another bang as the gas tank exploded, glass shattering, more screams from the women as the reality hit, their home would not last the night.
Calum turned away from his window, pulling the blind shut as he did.
He made his way to the kitchen, turning up the volume on the radio to drown out the noise.
“Bloody Neighbours” he muttered, “that’ll teach them”.