Tag: #FOWC

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

Nothing

Tina Stewart Brakebill

Nothing could have prepared Sue for the surge. She had always known she was different but this …. This was more than different. This was some freak level stuff.

She could feel the agitated hum of the crowd as they realized something wasn’t right.

And then a shift. Subtle at first. Agitation turning into fear. Swelling.

Could they smell it? Or did panic spread like a wave?

No one looked her way. No one knew it was her.

She felt the power surging again. But this time instead of fearing it, she embraced it.

Nothing could stop her now.

jhardy-image

Photo prompt courtesy of J Hardy Carroll

Well … my positive writing outlook lasted two days! Maybe later I’ll try to reclaim it. Meanwhile, thanks to  Rochelle’s Friday Fictioners Challenge and Fandango’s WOTD Challenge (nothing) for giving me inspiration to channel my-always-present dark side.

Haiku & Other Poetry, tutto e niente

bliss

Tina Stewart Brakebill

somewhere far from now

we’ll wake to dance again

blissfully alive 

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Day Two: Once again, choosing to look for hope in the midst of everything. We’ll see how long this lasts!

Thanks to Fandango’s WOTD Challenge (somewhere) and Sadje’s What Do You See Challenge for the inspiration. Photo credit to Joel Valve- Unsplash.

Haiku & Other Poetry, tutto e niente

about last night …

Tina Stewart Brakebill

Smickering strangers:

A prophesy for shame or    

Arbitrary love?

person in black pants sitting on white chair
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Thanks for the flirty inspiration to Fandango (arbitrary) and to Tales from the Mind (smicker) 

And for those of you (like myself) that need to know, one of the the definitions of smicker is “to ogle and smile amorously.” So go forth and SMICKER! You never know were it might lead 😉

Flash Fiction, tutto e niente

Someday I’ll Get There

Tina Stewart Brakebill

“Someday I’ll get there.” No one could hear her, but she screamed the words. Trying to drown out the cynical voice in her head.

But that voice always echoed louder: “You’re making a fool of yourself. Just stop. Stop painting. Stop running. Just stop.”

She knew that voice was right. Everyone was gone. Not hiding out in Atlanta. Not waiting for her. Gone. All of them.  

Still … she almost had captured his essence. She just needed to finish before she forgot his face. A few more strokes. That’s all. She couldn’t stop. Not now.  

“Someday I’ll get there.”

palettes

This 99 word bit of optimistic delusion was inspired by Rochelle’s Friday Fictioners Challenge (photo credit to her as well) with a cynical boost from Fandango’s FOWC and a great opening line from Putting My Feet in the Dirt.