Sue Vincent’s #writephoto. Clouded.

Hi everyone just a quick note if anyone would like to re-post any of their old #writephoto prompts please do. While Sue is not posting a photo prompt due to not being well, she would love to see old ones reposted.Now if you would like to join in please use the #writephoto badge

This week’s prompt ~ for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto. Clouded. Written Earlier this year.

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a landscape of green moorland and hills, with a pool of water near rocks in the foreground and a heavy bank of white cloud rolling in and masking the horizon.

The hills rolled on forever, dark foreboding. Clouds rolling in from the west carring rain or worse snow, she could smell it. The whole of the land was shrouded in fear. It had been days since she had seen another living being of her kind and she could not dismiss the feeling that she alone.

There was no way out she had tried. The hills became too steep, the river too fast and the boarder along the eastside too heavily guarded by humans. There was no escape while she was in this wounded condition. Eventually she would run out of places to hide and they would find her.

Slowly she turned and padded back to the cave, she would have her pups in a few weeks and by the time they were grown and strong enough she would be able to lead them out of this place . Her strength would have returned and her wounds healed.

For now this was her prison and her sanctuary , she was safe for now how ever clouded her future .

*******

This is part of #writephoto

From Jane Dougherty.

Progress report

Originally posted on Jan Doherty Writes.

I have a few success stories to crow about, so I’ll let them all go here.

First, I’m proud to have three poems in the anthology As the World Burns published by Indie Blue. I get a special thrill that my third entry is the poem that closes the collection. Yes, my desk is a mess but I can’t tidy it because of the ladybirds hibernating on it.

GetAttachmentThumbnail-8

Read more at Jane Dougherty Writes

Sue Vincent’s #writephoto. Sanctuary.

Hi everyone just a quick note if anyone would like to re-post any of their old #writephoto prompts please do. While Sue is not posting a photo prompt due to not being well, she would love to see old ones reposted.Now if you would like to join in please use the #writephoto badge

Sanctuary

Rachel ran, ran as she had not run for months. The moonlight urging her on she gave her blood lust free range for once . She looked magnificent. By midnight she had killed and disposed of a huge bear and was having her normal internal fight. The werewolf in her craved a human but the tiny but strong human part of her was fighting the craving.

Stopping in a clearing Rachel got the scent of something she craved almost as much as human, Vampire! It was close and it was female and the way she felt right now she could easily take her on. Standing stock still and sniffing the air she located the Vampire. Slowly and silently she crept up to a line of trees, fully aware that she was in the open and at a disadvantage she went carefully and stealthily . As she entered the wood she saw ahead of her a female Vampire bathing in shallow looking pond. Rachel felt a shudder of sheer want pass through her . Closing in, moving silently. The Vampire, at first unaware that she was not alone, suddenly felt Rachel’s hot breath on her neck. In a flash she rounded on Rachel. They stood fang to fang Rachel on the shore the Vampire in the water.

In a flash the Vampire lept out of the water and landed in the snow behind Rachel, who turned on her hind legs and lunged at her victim. Biting the Vampire in the stomach she was spurred on by the taste of flesh. The Vampire let out a scream of anger and dug her nails deep into Rachel’s back. Rachel flicked the Vampire off of her back and pounced on her. The Vampire was trying to bite into Rachel’s neck but Rachel was high from lack of real prey for so long. Biting deep into the Vampire’s chest, Rachel was soon covered by the blood oozing out covering her face and fur. Quickly she ripped out the Vampire’s heart and ate it then just to make sure she ripped off the Vampire’s head , then she quickly lapped up as much blood as she could before the Vampire and her scarlet blood turned to ashes in the snow.

Rachel felt elated she arched her back and throwing back her head she howled at the moon loud and long. As she turned to leave the wood she froze, on the wind she could sense and yes, smell, more Vampires, at least three of them. As she fought madly to clear her mind of moonlight and blood she saw a strange domed building on the far side of the clearing . She ran for the door she had no idea why she was heading to the building… she just felt drawn towards it. Halfway across the clearing to her grateful amazement it started to snow heavily covering her paw prints. As she reached the door her luck was still holding and it was open. As she slunk inside the door closed silently behind her.

Outside she heard the Vampires arrive. They spent what seemed like hours trying to open the door but failing. Walking into the gloom she saw light and felt warmth coming from a fire at the far end of the circular room in which she stood. The fire drew her in and she approached , all the time looking at the writing on the wall above the fireplace.

“This is Sanctuary to all but Vampires”. Feeling exhausted Rachel curled up in front of the fire and slept.

Outside the Vampires tried to enter the Sanctuary without any luck. They then searched for their sister…in vain. Just before dawn they left to seek shelter.

You can read the whole story so far here at The Vampire , the Witch and the Werewolf.

Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt

Not so much a blog tour .

This is not a blog tour but it ought to be! Our Jim has written another book set in Port Naain, is that same Port Naain where Tallis Steelyard lives, it is indeed. Now this book is called Maljie Teaching a Cat To Dance.

In this volume we stand shoulder to shoulder with Maljie as she explores the intricacies of philosophy, marvel at her mastery of pre-paid indemnification plans, and assist her in the design of foundation garments. When you read this, not only will you discover just who wears the trousers, but you can indulge in a spot of fishing and enjoy the quaint fertility rites of our great city. This book contains fashion, honey, orphans and the importance of dipping your money in vinegar to ensure it is safe. Indeed you may even learn how to teach a cat to dance.

Jim Webster is probably still fifty something, his tastes in music are eclectic, and his dress sense is rarely discussed in polite society. In spite of this he has a wife and three daughters. He has managed to make a living from a mixture of agriculture, consultancy, and freelance writing. Previously he has restricted himself to writing about agricultural and rural issues but including enough Ancient Military history to maintain his own sanity. But seemingly he has felt it necessary to branch out into writing fantasy and Sci-Fi novels.” Now with eight much acclaimed fantasy works and two Sci-Fi to my credit it seems I might be getting into the swing of things.

You can find Him Webster’s wordpress Bob here

Jim’s Amozon page is here and you can buy this book there and maybe some of his others, there are plenty and also they really vary in content.

What do I think about Jim’s books on Port Naain I love them , they are a great place to escape these pandemic days. He writes in many other genres too.

Three Things Challenge#360

Welcome to The Three Things Challenge.
For those of you unfamiliar with the challenge, every day Di at pensitivity101 lists three things that may, or may not, be related.
The challenge is to simply read the prompt and see where your creativity takes you, using one, two or all three words in your post. There are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre apart from keeping it family friendly.
You can use the 3TC, #threethingschallenge or TTC as a tag and the logo if you wish

Your three things today are:

TERRIBLE
PRONE
UNLIKELY

“Marm, did you notice the position she is in ” Tim’s voice jolted Corina back to the cold, smelly, damp here and now. “Yes” she replied finishing his coffee, “ugh! That was terrible it had sugar in it!” Tim just pulled a face at her!
They both went back into the forensic tent. There was the body of a female about 15 to 17 years, prone, but deliberately placed to looked as if she was dancing. Arms above her head, and legs bent . Dead flowers scattered all around her. Her hands and feet gone, and her teeth too.
“Well we can rule out suicide” Mark the dower pathologist said as they entered. “You think?” Corina replied.
“Yes whoever did this does not want us to find out who she is, no finger or toe prints to check and dental records are out of the question!” Mark finished talking and went back to checking the body.
What a mess, Corina hated it when the victims were young, and this one looked as if she’d suffered. Shaking that thought from her head she turned to Tom. “Okay she’s young so its unlikely that no one is missing her. Get someone to check missing persons, for any likely matches….” Corina thought for a second, “check and see if there are any matches for this M. O. Somehow it doesn’t look like a one off to me” She paused then added, “Tim , get us some hot black coffee no sugar!”

This is part of pensitivity101’s Three Things Challenge.

You can read part one of this story here.

Three things Challenge. #352

Welcome to The Three Things Challenge.
For those of you unfamiliar with the challenge, every day Di at pensitivity101 list s three things that may, or may not, be related.
The challenge is to simply read the prompt and see where your creativity takes you, using one, two or all three words in your post. There are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre apart from keeping it family friendly.
You can use the 3TC, #threethingschallenge or TTC as a tag and the logo if you wish.

Your three things today are:
CASH
ENVELOPE
MOBILE

Tom’s mobile buzz as it danced around the worktop. His eyes opened wide as he read the text. “£4000 in an envelope by noon”
Tom was stunned, unbelieving of what he’d read. Who would be threatening him and why?
The phone buzz again, “Sorry predicted text, I meant £40. pounds in cash, in an envelope. Need it by noon, the guys dropping the tickets off and will only take cash”
Tom looked again and recognise it was his brother’s number. In his panic he’d not looked at the number.
Excellent he said to himself he got those tickets to the match. He’d drop his n money round immediately. Phew!!

This is part of pensitivity101’s 3 things challenge.

Sue Vincent’s #writephoto Serenity. 4/9/20

This week’s prompt ~ Serenity

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a blue-lit landscape, land and calm water mirroring the cloudy, silver-lit sky.

My feet are cold, but I am past caring there is nothing left for me here. I step forward water rises up my legs, it’s no longer cold. My dress billows and the silver light touches my face. I am no longer tired, the pain is lifted from me as if I am cutting the ties that bind me. I move even further from the shore my steps unsteady now as the water reaches my chest. I am warm, I am rested I am happy. I slip beneath the waves and all I see is blue , as I look up I see the last of the silver light in the sky.

All of a sudden he is there his long red hair, his blue eyes and his beautiful silver fish tail. Wrapping me in his arms around me he whispers, “I told you I would wait for you, all you had to do was come to me.”

In the ICU the doctor shook his head , “We’ve lost her” he said, “Time of death 21.27″…the long whistle of the machine stopped as he turned it off leaving the low but determined beeps of the other patient’s machines in the background.

Her assigned nurse said quietly, “She really tried she kept on fighting, why did she just give up like that?” The team looked at her in silence then one of them said, “She looks amazing, there is a real aura of serenity about her”

This is part of Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt: Clouded #writephoto

This week’s prompt ~

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a landscape of green moorland and hills, with a pool of water near rocks in the foreground and a heavy bank of white cloud rolling in and masking the horizon.

The hills rolled on forever, dark foreboding. Clouds rolling in from the west carried rain or worse, snow, she could smell it. The whole of the land was shrouded in fear. It had been days since she had seen another living being of her kind and she could not dismiss the feeling that she alone.

There was no way out she had tried. The hills became too steep, the river too fast and the boarder along the eastside too heavily guarded by humans. There was no escape while she was in this wounded condition. Eventually she would run out of places to hide and they would find her.

Slowly she turned and padded back to the cave, she would have her pups in a few weeks and by the time they were grown and strong enough she would be able to lead them out of this place . Her strength would have returned and her wounds healed.

For now this was her prison and her sanctuary , she was safe for now how ever clouded her future .

*******

This is part of Sue Vincent’s #witephoto.

Thursday photo prompt: Fantasy #writephoto

To day it’s time for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a green landscape of rolling hills and an island in a bay. In the foreground, pastel-painted buildings and a tall clock tower are surrounded by summer trees.

This week’s prompt ~ Fantasy

Vlad was as usual showing off, knowing that all the staff would be on the look out for his arrival he decided to give them a show. Circling the castle twice getting lowered each time Vlad  went into a fast dive pulling up at the last minute and soaring up into a barrel roll spiralling back and forth across the courtyard he was indeed putting on an impressive show.

Unfortunately as he started to perform a Triple Sulko, the formidable figure of the Grandmother with the Invisible cape appeared at one of the windows and loudly commanded Vlad to “Cease thid Tom Foolery’.

Vlad was so shocked that he lost concentration and White Ted who luckily for him fell onto a soft mattress that had for whatever reason had been thrown out into the courtyard. Stunned and shocked Vlad misjudged the height of one of the castle ramparts and smashed into the stone wall with some force. As he lay on the stone floor of the courtyard watching little stars dance around his head Vlad could hear the harsh voice of the Grandmother with the Invisible Cape Saying. “Boris, will you kindly go and collect the creature that landed on the mattress and while you are out there scrape up young master Vladimir and bring him to me in the great hall!”

The Great hall was just that, a huge long room with a stone floor and high stone walls decorated with richly coloured tapestries and painting of Vlads’ ancestors, along the left side there was the most impressive display of medieval weaponry that you could ever expect to see! The centre of the room was taken up with the longest table you had ever seen it could sit thirty people or more, though it was not set for a meal it did have several large candle sticks and silver and gold bowls dotted about on it. The hall was dominated by a huge fire place above which was Vlad’s family coat of arms, the fire was alight and warming the top end of the hall. Next to the fireplace was a huge black chair upholstered in red and edged in gold, and sitting in this chair, dressed in black was the Grandmother with the Invisible Cape. She was sitting facing down the long hall and had a perfect view of the huge wooden, double doors at the entrance to the hall tapping her toes and fingers, and she was not a patient Bat….

White Ted, meanwhile, had had a soft landing and had been pleased to meet Boris who had gently scooped him up in his massive hand and carried him into the warmth of the castle kitchen. He had set him down on the kitchen table and then left him to take in his surroundings while he went out again to fetch, as he had put it ‘the Master’ as he went out into the courtyard he looked back over his shoulder and said to White Ted “Help yourself to the food and drink, my wife has prepared it especially for you.” And then he was gone. Left alone white Ted looked around him and could hardly believe what he saw, everything was so large, he was used to human large but this was different, this was huge! The room itself seemed endless and the ceiling as high as the mountains outside. Luckily though it was much warmer in here than it was outside and there was no snow falling that had to be a plus.

Moving along the table, which was long and broad White Ted was shocked at how far he was from the floor and decided that it would be prudent to keep away from the edge. Venturing further up the table, which was set with all manner of cooking utensils and food and bowls all bigger and richer than he had ever seen in his life White Ted eventually found a plate of food and a steaming hot drink set out on china that was just the right size for him. He was starving all that flying had given him an appetite, though in truth it was not really that long since he and Vlad had stopped for a snack on route. He was not one to waste food so he picked up the silver knife and fork laid out for him and began to eat. He had not had many mouthfuls when he noticed a large face smiling at him. This was Olga, the wife of Boris, she was also larger than anyone White Ted had seen before but he was not afraid of her, he could tell instinctively that this was a kind and gentle being. “Hello little teddy, what is your name?” she asked her face lit up by her smile. “You seem very hungry, would you like some more food?” she enquired, “No thank you.” replied White Ted, he was nothing if not polite. “The food was absolutely delicious, thank you. My name is White Ted.” He then took a step backwards and in true bearmanly form, with a flourish of his cape he bowed a deep bow to Olga. As he straightened up he asked. “And may I have the privilege of knowing your name Madame?” “Of course you may it is Olga and I am the wife of Boris who bought you in here.” With this she held out a finger to White Ted which he took and shook, which was no mean feat when the finger in question is the biggest he had ever seen. “I see that you have accompanied the young master and from the state of you I can see it has been an eventful time for you.” Olga said, straightening White Ted’s cape. “Yes it was rather” replied White Ted. “I have not travelled so far or so fast before and I can tell you though it was very exciting I hope the return journey is a little less rushed!”

Olga smiled at the little white bear and felt touched by the innocence in his eyes. “yes she said let’s hope it is” as she turned away for a second she added under her breath, “If return you do.” Then taking a deep breath she cleared her throat and was just about to add something when she was stopped before she could speak by the huge kitchen door swinging open with a resounding bang! White Ted and Olga swung round to see what had caused the commotion.

What a sight met their eyes, Boris was covered with snow and soaking wet, his coat and boots were covered with mud and his scarf, which was usually wound around his neck in three neat pleats was hanging down by his knees giving him an overall bedraggled look!!! “Oh my, what happened to you?” Asked a shocked Olga. “Hum” replied the miserable looking Boris. To White Ted’s surprise he noticed that Boris was actually smiling; despite his bedraggled appearance he looked happy?? Olga smiled a knowing smile and asked “Did you find the Master?” “Yes I did and here he is!!!!”

This is part of my story Vlad and the summons .

Thursday photo prompt: Worn #writephoto

This week’s prompt for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto ~ Worn

For visually challenged writers, the image shows deeply worn stone steps, scattered with plants growing in the cracks, leading up to a blue-painted door.

Before Cissey died she stood in the ginnel looking up at doors. Nothing had changed. The steps they used to climb up and down to school, to work to home. Still there worn and full of stories. When babies the pram would be stood at the bottom of the steps and the door was left open so a watchful eye was kept.

As Children they’d perch on the steps and shell the peas and peel carrots and potatoes. Each would have a job. The house was small for a family of ten so often they spilled over on to the steps. Noisy, rowdy, quiet pensive, laughing crying all life flowed out of the two up two down housr on to the steps.

One by one they left the safety of the home, walked down the steps either with Dad or Mum or alone to set up a new life. Some went far some just to another street.

They always came back, for birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, christenings, Christmas and funerals. Always at any event they spilled out on to the steps.

As time past the traffic on the steps become less yet somehow the indents looked accentuated deeper worn. Over the years the generations grew until there was no one left to truly know the significance of the worn steps. Who’s feet had left their mark on history.

Sell it the young ones said, not knowing the reasons for the worn steps. They painted the door, they painted the railings, they thought about repairing the steps but left them.

The for sale sign went up, people came to see the house. They saw the potential, they saw the new paint, the newly added kitchen and bathroom. They didn’t see the generations of family on the steps so many joys and dramas.

Nobody saw them but a special few felt them on the worn out steps. One couple saw them too and they bought the house and the steps.

Previous Older Entries

Follow me on Twitter

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart

Trent's World (the Blog)

Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald

Marsha Ingrao - Always Write

Promoting Hobby Blogging

Chel Owens

A Wife, My Verse, and Every Little Thing

Sacred SoulSongs

Sacred Paths and Detours

Mr. Ohh!'s Sideways View

For those of you who aren't me...and I've noticed a surprisingly large number of people who aren't.

The Small Dog

Life from the Tail End

USUAL MUTTWITS

DOG TAILS by ZoZo and Jools

kimbladeswriting

poetry and short stories

Ben Naga

Gifts from the Musey Lady and Me. "Laissez-moi vous raconter ma vraie histoire."

About the Jez of It

Poetry, stories and strange odds and ends from the desk of a writer

The Sound of One Hand Typing

Music, Musings, Memoir, and Madness

"LIFE" ( You like it, I love it! )

"LOVE"-Keeping it real, and keeping it simple!

Our Eyes Open

Come along on an adventure with us!

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

J-Dubs Grin and Bear It

As Always, More to Come

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Blog magazine for lovers of health, food, books, music, humour and life in general

Colline's Blog

a potpourri of thoughts and experiences

pensitivity101

An onion has many layers. So have I!

lynz real cooking

lynz real life

Darswords

Musings about Havenverse

From Cave Walls

The Journey Home

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Echoes of Life, Love and Laughter

like mercury colliding...

...moments of unexpected clarity

G-Bears Blog

Real Life - Hard Facts !

All in a Day's Breath

Art, Love of Life, Philosophy, Writing, Spirituality

Kevin Parish

Poetry, lyrics and other words...

Claire Ladds

Crime and dark fiction author

adamdixonfiction

Short stories from a fiction addict

Write to Inspire

Lance Greenfield - Night Writer