Memories

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…

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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.