When the silence comes,
And all the music fades,
When the darkness falls,
And all the light cascades,
When the laughter dies,
And all the smiles expire,
When your name is called,
And all the fates conspire.
Back from a few days away and time to blow the writing cobwebs. Where better than the fab Friday Fictioneers. A 100 words (you’re not shot for going over) of fiction based on the weekly photo prompt. Follow the link and give it a go.
Photo Copyright : G.L. MacMillan
Certain places, like certain people, can instantly announce their character. In the case of the living, no particular feature need betray them; on the surface an open expression or an innocent smile and yet there’s a certainty that somethings amiss. Perhaps the same could be said of places. A feeling so intense that it tingles the nerves.
Moira ran from the tent clutching the love potion to her chest. The sky grew darker and the wind grew stronger as the old gypsy cackled in the background,
“Change those labels Fred, ‘Madam Ruby’s Love Elixir’ is going to sell way better than ‘Mrs Ruby’s Lemonade’ ever did”.
Back on track and into the land of the living. So here’s this weeks attempt for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word piece of fiction for the weekly changing photo prompt. It’s a pain free addiction.
I broke my journey today. Just on a whim, simply because the sun was shining. I walked through the streets, here and there. A passage of moments, here and there.
I knew the place, or I thought I did. But maybe I didn’t know it all. Maybe I recognised it from a film or a photograph in a book. Is that what I fear?
A fear that beneath the recognition, beneath the stones and mortar and the familiar scented breeze, that there is really just a hollowness. An emptiness disguised.
I thought I knew the place. Perhaps I’ll know it now.