A Creation Experiment

A word lit the flame. Hooded figures chanted. The fire grew, and smoke billowed. This world, a failed experiment, would burn to start anew.

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– Written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #19. Photo prompt. CC 139. Photo from Pixabay.com.

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Awakening

Waves lap beneath. Meteors rain. An unassuming girl in an unassuming house extends an inhuman mind across galaxies to a long forgotten home.

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– Written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #18. Photo prompt. CC 140. Photo from Pixabay.com.

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Just a Little Chat

Mother chose a magazine from the stack. She flipped pages and sipped her juice. My tail twitched uncontrollably. The pigeon stared at me. I remained calm. I couldn’t get to him this time with the window closed between us. “I only want to talk!” I meowed and my claws popped out involuntarily.

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– Written for Sacha Black’s Writespiration #101 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 5. Prompt words were “time, stack, juice, pigeon.” WC 52. Photo from simple pimple.

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The Tracks

Watching the past pass away with its lights and shadows, I leave it all behind. I leave them all behind. Down these tracks, a new life waits.

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– Written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #15. Photo prompt. CC 140. Photo from Pexels.com.

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Mayday

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Burnt Toast

The smell of burnt toast permeated the air between us. The smoke detector blared in case I wasn’t aware our relationship was going down in flames.

– Written for Grammar Ghoul Press Shapeshifting 13 #91. Photo prompt. WC 26. Photo by Rick Warren.
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November

“Love this time of year.” He said.

“What, fall?” She questioned.

“Election season.” He replied wryly.

“Are you being facetious?” She asked, unsure.

“Obviously!” He shouted.

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– Written for Grammar Ghoul Press Shapeshifting 13 #78. Prompt was “facetious.” WC 26. Photo by Noisecult.

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Isle of the Dead

I shivered from my place at the back of the boat, though it was not cold. The fog hung thick and low above the water. A tall robed figure stood at the front pushing us along with a narrow oar.

Silently we glided through the mist. Something looming in the distance came into view. I saw flames dancing and heard barely audible chanting, but could not see from whom the voices raised.

Soon, an island appeared clearly in front of me, a large fire reaching toward the sky in its center. Amidst the flames, contorted bodies writhed and voices became louder. I understood a few words.

“Death eternal, soul’s inferno, deep into darkness, days abolished,” was interspersed with indiscernible words.

I shifted uncomfortably. We neared the shore, and the figure turned to me. I could not see his face, only darkness where it should have been.

The boat bumped against the sand, he reached a long arm toward the land in a gesture I understood to be a command, and I was compelled to move forward.

The chorus ceased. My insides burned.

With arms spread wide, I leaped into the blaze.

The chanting resumed, now with my voice among them.

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Isle of the Dead by Arnold Böcklin

– Written for Jane Dougherty Writes, Microfiction Challenge #20: Isle of the Dead. Painting prompt by Arnold Böcklin. WC 200.