Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
never fear they said
just follow the path they said
no defeat they said
straight on to glory they said
only whispers now (they said)
Perhaps it’s my current state of mind, but the photo brought to mind fallen armies and (for you Tolkien fans) barrow-wights so … here we are. Thanks to Sue for the inspiration. And remember all depressing interpretations are my own! 😉
dreaming a new day
the sun rises over still life
awakening spring
Thanks to Sue for a beautifully calm photo. It lifted my spirits. Check her out for more great offerings and the rules of the game.
Apparently this was it: the prison’s law library. One row of ancient books on a rickety cart. Was that smell despair or just mildew? Probably mildew. The stink of despair was coming from—as they say—inside the house.
Did they still call it the Big House? Or was that passé? She much preferred that to slammer or joint. Big House sounded almost genteel. She pictured herself dismounting a sleek black stallion. Handing the reigns to the stable boy. Shaking her hair out and coyly declaring, “I’m headed up to the Big House for a drink. Join me. Won’t you.”
Her daydream was abruptly shut down by the guard’s rough shove. “If ya want somethin’ take it. I aint got all day.”
“Give me one moment please.” She knew her tone irritated the hillbilly guard, but she had spent years smoothing out the rough edges of her accent. If, no—not if—WHEN she got out, she had to fit in with the “right” people. One failed attempt wasn’t going to stop her. She had big plans.
She shook the image of his body from her mind. No time for that. She smiled as she selected a book. Comeback time.
Photo Credit Morguefile
Thanks to Sunday Photo Fiction for the photo inspiration for this 200 word piece of flash fiction. Visit the site for some great writing and the rules of the game.
my imprisoned heart
consecrated by your love
once whole, now broken
This broken shard of pottery embellished with (what looks to me like) hearts immediately brought to mind the end of something—love or perhaps even obsession. All things end. Sometimes that’s not a bad thing. And sometimes it is. Take your pick.
Thanks to Teresa for returning to us! And for your new Daily Prompts.
Flashback post for Fandango’s Flashback Friday
I’d noticed the lights when I left the motel. They never got closer. But they also never dropped back. It was like we were attached by an invisible static line. I told myself I was being paranoid but a line from that movie he loves kept running through my mind.
“Who are those guys”?
Except I knew who it was. It had been two days since I escaped. I thought I was ok. Even stopped to sleep for a few hours before getting back on the road before dawn. But then those damn lights appeared. Nearly 24 hours later and they were still there.
I must be wrong. There’s no way he could have found me. But what if he did. He said he’d kill me if I ever left. I can’t go back. I won’t go back. Those lights felt like his eyes. Glowering. Raging. Unblinking.
I will not go back.
As the bridge loomed ahead, another line ran through my mind.
“The fall’ll probably kill ya.”
And then the lights went out.
(174 words)
Written and inspired by FFfAW ‘s photo prompt (provided by Jodi McKinney) with a little help from Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid.
And remember, domestic violence is NOT just a story or a piece of flash fiction. If you are in danger, please use a safe computer to access info at https://nnedv.org/ or call 911, a local hotline, or the U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 and TTY 1-800-787-3224.
Tina Stewart Brakebill 