Terror #amwriting

My first attempt at a six word story. Here it is with “terror” as the subject. If you want to join in. Follow this link.

terror

Terror

 

Whisked from sleep. A floorboard creaks.

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Visitations #amwriting

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. June 22, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that involves a dream. This action could have happened while awake, such as daydreaming, or make up a dream when asleep. Go where the prompt leads as it could be a nightmare or just fond memories or ambition.

This is #2 and fictional, although a very similar theme to the first.

dream image.jpg

©Sascha Darlington

Visitations

I feel gentle fingertips caress my temple, wake to his brown eyes fastened on mine, concern etched in them. His breath, hot upon my cheek, once would have been enough.

“Are you getting up?” he asks, a whisper.

“I need a little more sleep,” I say. He nods, kisses my brow. I almost pull him to me, to have him close.

I’ve never told him that sometimes she appears in dreams and her laughter clutches me. I sleep hoping to dream of her.

I think I hear him say: “Please come back to me” before I slide into slumber.

end 6/23/2017

Sascha Darlington

Dream Crashers #amwriting

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. June 22, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that involves a dream. This action could have happened while awake, such as daydreaming, or make up a dream when asleep. Go where the prompt leads as it could be a nightmare or just fond memories or ambition.

This was the first “thought” that came to mind. I will probably try something more fictional as well.

cha

©Sascha Darlington

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I Fall Behind

 

I Fall Behind

I’m wearing my blonde wig, red cowboy boots, denim mini and a tight v-neck red top.

I never have much to set up, just an amplifier and the microphone’s already in place, but I do like to have my guitar plugged in and it’s then that I see him: Callum Johnson, sitting at a front table, his blue jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him, while he draws from a long-neck bottle of some standard American beer. Still no microbrew for Cal.

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Hourglass #amwriting

dale-rogerson4

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

For Friday Fictioneers. Thank you to the wonderful Rochelle for hosting this group. To read the instructions and join in, please visit here.

 

Hourglass

I met a Swedish boy on Christmas Day and kissed him on Boxing Day and felt the earth move at Kamala Bay.

I touched my fingers to my lips and smiled at this boy, my first kiss.

We were still holding hands, not comprehending when an accented man herded us and other tourists toward a packed bus.

“Tsunami,” someone said.

The joy of the kiss evaporated as my emotions unspooled like myriads of delicate thread concentrating on my parents and little sister at the pool. Praying.

The bus bumped up a steep road and the shore behind became ocean.

 

end

Sascha Darlington