At last the tide has turned, term has ended and markings done. Like coming out of a darkened room into the sunshine, my eyes are slowly adjusting to the sunlight, and I’m reclaiming that little bit of me time.

I’ve missed Friday Fictioneers for a few weeks and have felt bereft. If you want to know why, follow the link and have a go. A 100 words of fiction based on the photo prompt provided. Its the greatest bit of entertainment you don’t have to pay for…


Photo Copyright : Stephen Baum

The rain is falling heavily, there is such loneliness about today and everything seems still. In the distance, I see shapes appear then fade: figures on the verge of being. They beckon me over. I stare. They go. Then there’s only me.

Sometimes the figures suggest themselves. They emerge, images of light, fragile images from somewhere past. They come slowly, rising like bubbles from a polluted stretch of water, malodorous and putrid; a magma flow of memories.

They appear without control. With memories, there is little choice. The worst of times are often stronger than the light we fight to reach.

15 thoughts on “Memories

  1. Oh Helen: you’ve hit so many nails on the head here. Control between your ears is control indeed. Just try not thinking about elephants for a minute.

  2. A beautiful prose-poem, Helen! My favorite lines:
    “They come slowly, rising like bubbles … magma flow of memories.”
    “The worst of times are often stronger than the light we fight to reach.”

  3. Very good. Your images are powerful, and capture the nature of unwanted memories – a kind of death in life, a shadowy, ghostly lingering of the past.

  4. Oh, I’ve missed you, Helen! It’s good to have you back. You haven’t missed a beat. Why is that the worst times are always stronger than the light? How I wonder. Great work, as always.

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