The horse flew ahead, eyes half-blinded by the fog. The exhausted soldier was in no position to command, though he led the horse with a weak hand. They had travelled for days, braving heat, storm and hunger. “Just an hour more” pleaded the soldier to a God he did not believe in. They reached the land of exile, at last. The horse slowed down at the sight of a boy. “Our country is free”, shouted the soldier with a last burst of energy, as he fell down, fatigued.
Thank you, Rochelle, for hosting Friday Fictioneers and thanks to Erin for the photo.
He stared at the ship, called Victoria. Now was the time to attack, he felt. The ship was surrounded by fog and his men were ready with weapons, just waiting for a word from him. He was about to turn when a moment caught his attention. An elegant woman, aboard Victoria’s deck, was examining something. He, with an eye for these things, could clearly see that the ‘something’ was diamond. Then she carelessly tossed it to the river, as he stared. Now she held a chain, examining it. In a thoughtless frame of mind, he jumped into the sea to retrieve precious jewellery.
The next moment, a squad from Victoria jumped into the nameless ship. “You are under arrest.” thundered the commander. He called a number as the dumbfounded pirates were handcuffed.
“Task done, ma’am”
The elegant lady smiled, “All for some trinklets.”
This was written for Alastair’s photo fiction.
“This is our gift to the crown prince.” the sage told the king, beckoning to the men who carried three boxes. The king signalled to the prince to open the red box. It revealed a beautiful woman with reddish blond hair and gentle blue eyes. The prince’s eyes shone as he walked over to the blue one. It opened to a svelte Eastern beauty with raven hair and wild dark eyes.
The smitten prince strolled to the white box, his eyes shining with greed. Upon finding the box empty, he went inside. He was calm when he emerged two minutes later. He removed his crown and handed them to his father, “I renounce everything.” he said as he walked barefoot to the forest.
This was written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rich Voza for the photo.
Mr Burns reached the shore and saw the disarray in his immediate neighbourhood. He quickly took a shovel and began to work. After he was satisfied, he went inside the house to see his old books scattered around. He dusted and arranged them in order. It was amazing that he was able to accomplish so much in a short period of time.
Mr Burns proceeded to dust his photo on the wall. Below his picture was the inscription, Simon Burns, 1920-1949. The housekeeper entered his room and fainted with a scream.
‘Never does her job, but faints and spreads stories.’ thought Simon Burns, disgruntled, as he floated out of the house.
Written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.
Johnson peered inside, ‘Mary, are you done?
“No, dear. I just saw a beautiful silk gown. I will be back.”
She disappeared. Johnson looked inside, but Mary was nowhere to be found. He looked forlorn.
“Who is that?” a surprised customer asked the saleswoman, Joan.
“Oh! He is old Mr Johnson. His spendthrift wife died while shopping here and left him with a credit card debt of $50,000. He has been that way ever since.”
The customer looked dumb-struck while another salesgirl suppressed her giggle. Joan was so good at telling stories.
Meanwhile, Mary, alive and well, was shopping in the other part of the store.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and John Nixon for the photo.
Tom’s thoughts were elsewhere as he rode his bicycle. Rose refused to speak to him. In addition to that, she had taken to ridiculing him. She knew that he was devoted to her. Then, why this attitude, he wondered.
As Tom sped, he did not notice his small tennis ball slipping down. Then he saw it sliding down the hill. Tom hurried to locate the ball, but it was lost in the muddy water below. He considered going after the ball, but did not make the effort. He sat on the edge, lost in thought. Was it worth it? Should he reach for a ball lost in dirt? Another thought struck him. Why was he devoted to someone who did not care for him? If Rose could not spot his merits, it was her problem. He would wait for the right girl, but never give up his self-esteem for anything or anyone.
Tom got up and confidently walked to his cycle. He whistled now as the world looked new.
Written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write
“Why didn’t you tell me all of it?” asked Jessica, coldly.
“All of what?” asked Phil, as they walked to the beach.
“You didn’t clarify that your family property is to be donated to charities and you are not going to inherit anything.”
“How does it matter? I am an accountant and have a regular salary..” said Phil.
Jessica tried to swallow her disappointment as she looked at the floor. Then, she took a deep breath.
“Phil, I am sorry. I cannot marry you.”
“Why, is it….”
“No, it is not the money. I feel that you have not been honest with me. You misled me. This is not what I am looking for.”
Phil stared after her. He was surprised that relief was his uppermost feeling. He looked at the glass beside him. The glass looked empty and unattractive without the wine. But, it was in peace as it reflected the sand and the sun. He felt like the glass.
This was written for Ermilia’s Picture it & Write. To read the first part, click here.