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
Kathryn peaked through the blinds, being careful not to make any unnecessary movements or open the blinds to far, looking to see if the black sedan was still outside.
“Please Lord,” she whispered in desperation when she saw that the car was still out there, “Make him go away”. But Kathryn knew Bill wouldn’t just leave. Already he had been sitting outside more than half an hour, despite her friends insistence that she had not seen Kathryn in several days. Bill could be quite stubborn like that when he wanted to be.
Glancing into the other room, Kathryn could see that her baby was still sound asleep. Kathryn offered up another quick prayer that little William would stay asleep for now. Soon enough she’d have to wake him up to buckle him into his carseat in the car which Kathryn had been smart enough to park in her friend’s garage earlier. Everything was loaded and ready to go. The only thing to do now was wait till it was safe to leave. God only knew how long that might be. Thankfully William was still sound asleep.
Another quick glance told her Bill was still outside. With a gasp she realized he was, once again heading for the front door. Catherine quickly retreated to the safety of the other room, from her perch by the window.
“I believe you were told she isn’t here”. Kathryn heard her friend’s husband bellow. “Now I suggest you leave before I call the cops”. She heard Bill utter an expletive followed by the sound of the front door slamming. Moments later an engine revved and took off. Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief.
“You should be safe to leave now”. Harold said after awhile.
Jeff watched and waited while streams of people spilled forth from the gateway, his eyes peeled for one particular person. As more and more people exited he began to wonder if he had the right train. Glancing down at the piece of paper on which he had written down the information his friend Tanya had given him, he saw that he had the correct day, correct time, correct train.
He wondered if Molly still remembered him after all these years. It had been a long time since they had last seen each other and even then they had never really been good friends, never really known each other that well. Something Jeff hoped to change this time around.
His thoughts went to some of the memories he had of Molly. She had been young and flighty at the time but still full of life and vivaciousness. Tanya had mentioned that she had been through some tough times recently.
Continuing to watch his eyes fell on a woman that matched with the one in the photo Tanya had shown him.
Suddenly feeling nervous, Jeff slowly approached the woman….
The woman turned around, her lips slowly turning in a soft smile.
“Phewww”. Margaret thought taking a deep breath as she wiped the sweat collecting on her forehead. She knew that cleaning up the studio she had bought would be hard work. She hadn’t realized it would be this hard.
Giving her back a quick stretch to get the kinks out, Margaret got back to work scrubbing the walls. To remove years of dirt and grind.
A loud knock against the door got Margarets attention. Looking up, she saw a uniformed officer standing in the door. “Ohh Hi officer,” Margaret said, “Is everything okay?”
“Sure is. Just stopping by to check on things here.” The officer replied. “Ohhh,” he continued, “We’re doing a coffee chat at the coffee house down the street if you’re interested”
“Sure,” Margaret answered as she set her scrubbing pad down and removed the work apron she had been wearing. “I could use a breather from all this scrubbing and hard work.”
Responding to Patricia’s 5 Line Story challenge – featuring the world “Breather”
Running a week late (my apologies). Been kind of MIA lately. Been dealing with some family stuff (I’ll spare you the boring details) as well as trying to get a few things done… So here’s my story for last week’s challenge (new one comes up tomorrow, I believe). Be sure and check out Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
The photo to inspire us:
And my story….
Molly watched out her kitchen window as her young son, Jason, splashed about in the puddles created by the latest downpour. “So carefree,” she thought.
Molly wanted to capture that moment. She knew it would soon be coming to an end. Soon she’d have to tell her son that they would have to leave their home. With Jason’s father leaving in the middle of the night, a note on her bedside table saying he just couldn’t take being husband and a father anymore, Molly knew there was no way they could continue to stay where they were at. They would have to move – to where she had no idea.
Molly picked up her phone and snapped a picture of her son as he continued to splash, then with a sigh she called her son inside.