Visual Dare – Crumbling

Source Visual Dare

She couldn’t bear the shaving brush and foam on the bathroom windowsill, and his cologne still clung to the sweater gripped between her fingers. Martha buried her anguish within his scent and memories as she clutched his jumper to her face.

Six days was too long, far too long.

She shrugged his sweater over her head and ignored the cawing birds as they flocked beyond the cliffs. Their mournful cries served only to intensify her grief and choking sobs.

Two uniformed figures walked towards her; they’d known she’d still be there, down on the beach. Their gait slowed as the salty gale assailed them and their shoulders sagged. Black boots kicked the sand as they walked and as she watched behind her trembling fingers, the oldest removed his hat. Tears trickled and she knew what they’d say.

Six days was too long, far too long, and now – too late.

(149 Words)

Written for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare – One week, 150 words, one black-and-white photo that could spawn a hundred different stories.

Go take a look at the stories in her comments, each a different take on the picture above!

Visual Dare – Candid

Photo Source and Vis Dare

I remember childhood tinged with yellow. Fields behind my house, long grass with ox-eye daises teetering on the breeze and scratchy corn itching my back as I lay staring up at gold-edged clouds between pages.

Then there were rosy sunsets and flushed cheeks and hands clasped tight as first love blossomed.

I wished for bouquets of red roses and a white wedding dress. I wanted teal bed linen and seafoam walls, and trails of green ivy climbing the brickwork. I wanted pink wine and black coffee, and multi-coloured years, merging into the silver of growing old together.

But life’s palette will be never more than my crayon box colours as I rest in a lost, brambled corner of the field behind my childhood home. My bones are bleached by time and the sanguine pools beneath me long consumed by mother earth as my first love became last.

(147 Words) 

Written for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare – One week, 150 words, one black-and-white photo that could spawn a hundred different stories.

Go take a look at the stories in her comments, each a different take on the picture above!

Visual Dare: Voice

Photo Source

His stomach still turned even after they set foot on land. Nausea rose in waves and he held his hurting belly in his hands. His headache spread right into his eyes and reeled every time he tried to gaze past the dense thickness of bodies. Interminable days and nights squeezed below deck had stiffened him, and now his little legs could barely manage movement.  “It’s good. We’re safe, we’re safe…” he muttered over and over again. No one would ever try and steal his father away again.

His mother’s hand gripped his like a vice and noise overwhelmed him, but he tried to smile and ignore the anguished and tired cry that left his mother’s tight lips. He gazed through the crowd with sunblind, salt-stained eyes. “Where are they taking Papa?” But no one heard his desperate voice above the cacophony of fear and his mother’s hand slipped through his.

I haven’t writen Flash in a while, too busy editing, but this picture from Visual Dare spoke to me, especially with all the news features about European Refugees and Asylum Seekers. Just imagine, for a moment, being a small child escaping a country torn apart by war, dictatorial oppression, and/or religious extremism…then being rejected in the very place you hoped to find sanctuary…
If you’re interested this is a great article: 10 truths about Europe’s migrant crisis.

Please, also, take a look at the other stories, each is very different, but very powerful.

Visual Dare: Burden

Photo Source

It’s heavy, so heavy, a bone-crushing weight that sits squarely on his shoulders. It sleeps within his heart most days, but when it wakes – it screams at him in silence.

He works in the garden, tending, pruning and caring, the same as he does indoors. The wind whispers in the leaves and the soil warms his fingers as he works. He loses himself, out there beneath the sun, heat softly stroking his back.

Indoors, his heart threatens to explode within his ribs, his mind caught within the web of knowledge and his burden growing with every passing moment.

She smiles, and his heart swells and his eyes glisten. Today she knows who he is. Today, he grips her liver-spotted hand within his wrinkled fingers, and kisses her soft skin. He smiles back.

Tomorrow is another day, and he doesn’t know what it will hold. The weight sits heavy, and heart-breaking.

(150 words)

An entry for Visual Dare over at Angela Goff’s Anonymous Legacy…this picture spoke to me of my own father, and a burden of knowledge…

Check out the other stories…

Visual Dare: Clarity and Collapse

Narrows Bridge collapse in Tacoma, Washington on November 7, 1940 – Photo Source

Eleanor swallowed her dreams, and tried not to let them choke as they lingered by a thread.

The bridge on the television screen swayed, moving in waves like a squall on the ocean and Eleanor’s stomach squirmed.

She sat beside George and bit back the words at the rear of her throat. He clasped his hands tightly in his lap, and she threw him a sideways glance.

“That’s what happens when you build on the cheap, no time, no effort.” George shook his head as the bridge on screen collapsed into the churning river below.

Eleanor’s head swam. She gazed at her husband and tears pricked. She loved him so much, but they both stood on that same bridge, teetering and swaying, holding on for dear life, and he had no idea.

“It is,” she said with clarity, “it is…that’s what happens.”

George smiled, squeezed her hand and flicked channels.

(150 Words)

My Vis Dare…for a wobbly bridge – the  Narrows Bridge collapse in Tacoma, Washington on November 7, 1940. If you want to see footage of the collapse pop over to Angela’s blog here. And for some great stories inspired by this event and the photo above, check out the Visual Dare prompt.

Visual Dare: Elite

Photo Source

She carved and built, delicately working her fingers, all month, barely stopping. This time she could help, she could do more than hold a banner, or be chained to a gate, this time she could really make a difference!

They laughed at her, the others, but they’d see.

When Maggie scoffed at the idea of a tree house, River bit her lip and bided her time. When Maggie chained herself to the old oak, River kept working. When they cut Maggie’s chains and the bulldozers moved in, River set down her tools and waited.

They laughed, when they saw it, they howled and snickered, but River watched as the engines growled.

It was the faces at the windows, tiny faces, peaked ears and delicate fingers pressed against River’s tiny panes of glass that stopped the laughter.

No motorway would ever cut through the ancient wood that housed fabled little folk…

(150 words)

A tale of survival and whimsy…read the others at Anonymous Legacy’s Visual Dare, and enjoy x

Visual Dare: Tempest

Photo Source Lisa Falzon

He shivered and she slowly turned her soft gaze to meet his. “Sorry,” he whispered, the words barely leaving his mouth as he leaned down to meet her lips. Her lips were pale and cold, and her eyes tired and dark with shadows. He shivered again.

Her lips moved and he strained to hear the words that hid behind them. “Tell me…”

Goosebumps spread across his arms and he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I love you.” He nuzzled her wispy hair, the stray blond curl that escaped the scarf around her head. “I will love you now, today, tomorrow and forever.”

He wished fervently that he could extract the tempest that threatened to explode through his chest. He wished his vitality, his life, could feed through the tubes and perform the job that chemotherapy couldn’t.

He wished.

(150 Words)

I adored this picture, who wouldn’t? We all have tempests within, and this spoke to me of love. Written for Anonymous Legacy and Visual Dare 86, pop over and read the other tales inspired by this beautiful picture.

Visual Dare: Precocious Spirit

Photo Source – Photo by Juliana Manara

Mists swirled and danced, and Qilaq kept moving despite the sugared ice flurries that numbed her nose. The road was long and she tightened her fingers around the wagon’s rope. Her arms burned, but her snowy white llama sat as still as could be. She moved steadfastly on, followed, as always, by her faithful animals.

A hawk swept by, disturbing the roiling mists, crying as it circled, “Keee-arr, keee-arr…follow, follow…”

Qilaq glanced up and grinned.

A tear slipped down her cheek, turning crystalline, and for a moment she paused. Her heart ached – especially where the bear’s claws had torn through so many layers – and sorrow filled her, but her journey was almost finished. The next life was within sight and as her spirit-guide, her beloved hawk, soared through the narrow mountain pass, Qilaq quickened her pace, heading for the light that beckoned her. Heading for Spring as her Winter passed.

(150 words)

 

I loved this picture as soon as I saw it and wanted to write…take a look at the other few tales over at Anonymous Legacy and Visual Dare.

Visual Dare: Enamoured

Source: Getty Images: by Constance Bannister Corp

Molly’s tangled mop of curls shook as she pirouetted beside the car. She jumped and twirled, and I couldn’t help but smile. She bounced and leaped with outstretched arms and balanced on her toes. Another spin with fingers extended, and then off balance, and she landed in a heap on the floor.

Giggles erupted and Molly gazed up at me. She rocked onto her feet and the glinting wheel hub caught her eye as she leaned against it to stand. Her fingerprints faded as she gazed at her reflection. Her mirror image grinned back and her delighted laugh rang out.

“Mummy, look, boo-ti-full me!”

“Yes, sweetheart, you’re beautiful, always beautiful.” My smile crinkled my eyes and warmed my soul. Tears prickled as her innocent recognition of beauty and confidence far surpassed my own, and I hoped it would last her lifetime.

(141 Words)

Enamour – verb: past participle: enamoured be filled with love for…

My first VisDare for Angela Goff in a while…go see the others, enjoy!

Visual Dare: Precarious

Photo Source: Anonymous Legacy Visual Dare

A thin line runs between safety and peril, a narrow path between hitting the right or the wrong note.
Sadie’s thumb throbbed as she stubbed it whilst closing the kitchen cupboard. She took a moment and cocooned it in her hand, clasped to her heart then she continued serving up dinner.
Sadie’s thumb rubbed up and down her arm as she held her arms across her chest, and watched Alec eat. Her eyes followed every mouthful and she studied his hands as he gripped his knife and fork.
Sadie’s thumb moved lightly across her lips as he pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. He smiled, and she scooped up his plate and hurried to the kitchen.
Sadie’s thumb tapped nervously on the edge of the sink as she rested for a moment, relief flooding her tension. Today she is safe.

(144 Words)

Written for Anonymous Legacy’s Visual Dare Week 25: Precarious.
Go look at the other great stories!