This is my story for Rochelle’s Friday Fiction. Photo Credit for this week’s photo goes to J Hardy Carroll. (Unfortunately, I am not able to save or copy the picture but if you go to the above link you will be able to see it.)
“Who’s out there?” An angry voice growled, “I thought I told you hooligans to leave.”
“Please sir, I’m sorry.” A small voice trembled. “I was trying to get my kite back.”“A likely story. You probably thought you could sneak a peak at a monster, like the other hooligans.”
“No sir, I’m sure you are no monster. You’d sound nice if you weren’t so gruff.”
“That is kind of you to say but I’m sure you wouldn’t be if you could see me.”
“Perhaps if I could…”
A burn-scarred face peeked out.
The girl gasped, then bravely approached the older man.
Quietly, at first, the music played. A soft mournful tune. People flocked to listen not knowing the reason why. They only knew they could not stop. The music entranced them as it entrapped them, the tempo increasing faster and faster still maintaining the mournful melody. Lights flickered and flashed spinning faster and faster as the tempo increased. “Do you think we have them under our power now?” The Young One asked. “Yes” replied The Old One, “I believe we do.” “A Job well done.” admitted The Ancient. Something he rarely did.
“So what will become of them?” The Young One wanted to know.
“We will make them our slaves to do our bidding.” replied The Ancient. “They will serve us well, I’m sure.”
Came across an interesting article about how ones Personality Type (Myers Briggs Type Indicator) has an influence on our writing. Towards the end of the article there is a short quiz you can take that gives you an idea if you are more of an Introverted or more of an extroverted writer. Which one you are may determine a lot about which writing environments work better for you and which aspects of writing you are more comfortable with.
If you want to check out the article, here is the link:
A ladder to the moon… A ridiculous idea they scoffed. No one had faith, no one believed it could be done. But she would have the last laugh when she proved them all wrong. It just took work – hard work, perseverance, and lots and lots and lots of faith. Each time doubt crept into her mind she would look up and imagine herself climbing her ladder all the way to the moon. She would imagine herself laughing at all the naysayers and doubters.
Slowly, bit by bit the ladder reached towards the moon. People began to flock, looking on with surprise and shock. No one was ridiculing now as they looked on in surprise. Some now offered to help wanting a part in the building of tremendous ladder but she politely shook her head. They had not believed in her or her dream before, why should she let them have a part in her venture now that it was obviously a reality. She would do this on her own without the help of others.
A little more, just a few more steps, and her ladder was complete…. She had finished her ladder to the moon. With a smile and a wave she stood on the moon and pushed the ladder away, letting it crash to the ground below. “Let them build their own ladder” she thought. That was if they had the gumption and ability to truly believe it could really be done.
The ladder lays where it had fallen, a reminder of what happens when you don’t believe.No one heard from or saw her again and for years no one else ever tried to build a ladder to the moon, no one had the perseverance or the faith to believe it could be done….
One step at a time, a ladder was built, a ladder to the moon.
Jen sat up suddenly on the couch she had fallen asleep on several minutes earlier. The dream still so fresh in her mind she couldn’t quite be certain if she was truly awake or still in the midst of a dream.
Even with her eyes wide open she could see every detail of the accident, Tom’s face clearly visible in the dream as the motorcycle he was riding skidded across the road.
Shakily, Jen got up from the couch trying to dismiss the dream as nothing more than a simple bad dream with no bearing on reality. After all, the notion that the dream could mean anything at all was ridiculous.
It had been years since Kathy had sat down at a piano. Years since an accidental blow to the head had messed up her hearing. She knew how to play, knew how to make beautiful music at the keys of a piano, but since the accident the attempts made to play sounded hideous to her ears. So much so that she had stopped playing the sounds of her own playing tortuous to her ears. A recent surgery was to fix her hearing and change all that.
Nervously Kathy removed the cover from the piano. Sitting down on the bench, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Trembling fingers hit one key then another… The sounds of beautiful music, like she remembered from before, filled the air. Faster and faster her fingers flew across the keys as joy & happiness at the sounds of music filled her heart.
Join Joy for this week’s Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer – Week of March 07 – 13