The Huntress’ narrow prow cuts through darkness,
The only sound a plashing single paddle.
Destination known, she’s grateful to see nothing
Below the river’s surface. Continue reading
death
For Now
©I Goodheir
From Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr’s photo prompt, The Unicorn Challenge(10/13/23). No more than 250 words in length. Otherwise, let your creative flag fly!
She stretched and struggled, pecking around the edges. Cradled between clumps of late season grasses, partially protected from the bitter wind, Cora stretched her damp, thin neck toward the fretful sun’s warmth. Late-born, her chances of survival were slim. Continue reading
New Traditions
From Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr’s photo prompt, The Unicorn Challenge(08/26/23). No more than 250 words in length. Otherwise, let your creative flag fly!
“Hey Emil, where ya headed?” Olaf cycled like Old Nick himself, trying to catch up with his childhood friend.
Emil slowed his bicycle and halted, gingerly slipping off the extra-wide seat that Dorothea had gifted him to encourage his getting in shape, on account of his tricky ticker. He sorely missed her dark black coffee, her cardamom buns, even her often sharp tongue. But she’d made him promise before she died, and two years later, he was fit enough to give Olaf a run for his money. Continue reading
Solo Farewell
From Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr’s photo prompt. The Unicorn Challenge (06/23/23). No more than 250 words in length.
(And no, this is not murder, but death by cancer)
The last rock is placed. She stands back to evaluate her work. One hundred stones, enough to trace an outline. It’ll do. Her father’s body had become wasted, crumpled like a…a croissant! A little repose, in straightening out this depiction of his form. A little humor to remind her to breathe. Continue reading
Nightshift Vision
Source: Matt Fraser
The challenge? Write a story in 6 sentences, no more & no less, and if you’d like, share your own creation or just visit and comment on others’ ideas, with GirlieOnTheEdge, Denise. The prompt is “PETRICHOR”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Stories
The soft pad of toughened feet on damp forest floor is the rhythm that drives the night onward.
Animals hush at her sensed presence then resume their own individual calls and clicks, but only after the shrubbery ceases to dance at her swift passage; scents of the otherworld momentarily mask the steady, calming perfume of petrichor. Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 