From Sonya’s 3LineTales at Only100Words.
You can find the original prompt here. Thank you, Sonya
Photo by Prescott Horn via Unsplash
Lilith invited the serpent to coil around her legs, encouraged his undulating form to embrace her waist and hiss secrets into her ear.
Neither angels nor demons could dissuade her from the truth in her soul.
Fierce independence was the unpopular narrative, and she wore their scorn with pride
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Title: Fountain of Youth
Source: 100 Word Wednesday: Week 137
Word count: 100 words
Image by Cyranny
Christopher was an ordinary boy who lived in an otherwise ordinary neighborhood. Like most little boys he loved playing outdoors and discovering secret gardens, talking animals, and harrowing adventures. His mother indulged his interests and read him bedtime stories. One storybook developed the telltale signs of the favored status, but that story couldn’t contain his imagination. He created his own fantastical stories about a boy named Chris and his giant tortoise named Bulldozer.
Nestled into his otherwise unremarkable neighborhood, sat a fountain. It drew the curious who always read the plaque. To my darling Christopher, who never outgrew his dreams.
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Title: Rarefied Society
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr
James caressed and cradled the book against his chest. It had taken months to locate. Local libraries no longer hunted and delivered your desired tomes. They were relics, dismantled by the Device and digital data proliferation. The Quest was difficult, part of the grueling initiation process qualifying worthy inductees for the Ambassadors Club.
He unfolded blue spectacles and positioned them above page forty-five. He played with the focal length until it snapped into focus. The lenses illuminated the glorious words between the words. With his heart pounding in his ears, James began the laborious task of transcribing his next clue.
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Title: Accidental Friends
Source: 100 Word Wednesday: Week 136
Word count: 100 words
Image by Cyranny
It materialized, and I had missed her. Again. I said ‘her’ although it could be a man. My gut confirmed it was her. Why did she torment me? Why did I obsess?
Her story grew in my mind. With the consistency of each sunrise, her bicycle arrived, parked at my door by one o’clock and by three it was gone. She was meeting her lover; she was a spy stalking her mark. She was my aberration, my ghost, my diversion.
Then her bicycle wasn’t there. Weeks passed. I feared she wouldn’t return. Months later, I cried for my lost friend.
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Title: Gritty Gray Hope
Source: Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story that shows true grit.
Word count: 99 words
Photo by Matt Hoffman on Unsplash
Walking the city streets, I choke on the summer heat as it boils the simmering stench. Gray skies descend, reflecting the hell rising all around me. Everything lays dead or dying, and the devils threaten to consume the little I have left. This is my creation.
Time killed the last honest man. There is no way to wash away the rain. My black hole life ensures I cannot move past this singularity.
A warm wind blows, prying the cold, damp dread from my heart. I grit my teeth, grasp a sliver of hope and dare to reinvent my future.
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Title: Tree Museum
Source: Weekend Writing Prompt #122 – Museum
Objective: Write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 147 words.
Photo by Caleb Riston on Unsplash
***Description on Caleb’s photo: The Boardman Tree farm in northern Oregon was an incredible place to visit. The 25,000 acres of poplar trees made for an almost otherworldly experience in the fall. The farm was sold in January of 2016 to be cut down and used for cow pastures and agriculture. This photo was taken during during the autumn of 2016 before the bulk of the man made forest was removed. Small sections reportedly still remain, but not at the mind blowing scale of a few years ago. ***
“They once grew like this?” Ro let his fingers touch the rough tree trunk.
“Not exactly. Forests were much denser. There were multiple layers, areas of undergrowth so thick you couldn’t walk. The ground wasn’t level. There were countless rivulets, streams, they merged, forming great rivers which ran into oceans. And animals.” I paused, letting images develop in Ro’s mind. “The books describe deer, bear, fox, squirrels, and a multitude of birds all roaming wild.”
“Wild?”
“They claim there were no fences or cages. Some beasts had a yearly migration. They travel, on their own, thousands of miles, searching for food or breeding grounds.”
“Not anymore?”
“No. They only exist in museums. Most animal and tree species are extinct.”
“What does that mean?”
“They don’t grow or live anywhere. We, your ancestors saved, nurtured these. When I am gone, it will be your responsibility to guard them.”
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Title: Honor Games
Source: #SwiftFicFriday – Week 5 Prompt
Word count: 300 words
Photo by Mehrdad Haghighi on Unsplash
Theo’s palms were moist with dread, and they trembled as he rubbed them on his trousers.
“I must be crazy,” he said to himself. The god sitting across from him snickered.
“Perhaps you are…” he paused amused by Theo’s squirming, “or maybe you seek to restore honor to your family name.” He pressed his ashen-grey fingertips together in front of his hood shrouded face. Pale eyelids slowly closed, hiding the deep ebony pits of his demon tortured soul.
“Will you help me?”
“You want me to intervene with the daughters of Night?” Scorching fire flashed when his eyes opened. “The Erinyes do not yield once they accept the curse. I am afraid he is doomed to suffer every misery and misfortunes they see fit to heap upon him.”
“My brother is not responsible for my mother’s death. His only crime was not being able to protect her from my uncle’s greed. My uncle killed her. He seeks to destroy everything he cannot own.”
Theo imagined Hades smiled.
“Tisiphone, Alecto, and Megaera play an elaborate game, but you hold a winning move.”
As he spoke their names three Furies appeared behind him, black robes fluttering with their lamentations. Serpents writhed, coiling in their hair and twisting around their arms as crimson blood oozed from their dead eyes.
“You wish to invoke the burden of persecution?” they asked in unison.
Theo’s mouth gaped and his skin paled making him resemble Hades.
Hades lifted his hand, and a stifled chuckle passed his lips.
“Ladies. Ladies. There is no need for invocation tonight, Theo wants to right a wrong. Someone has duped you three.”
The Furies’ wails fell silent, and they looked from one to the other.
“Duped? Pray, tell us more. We must hunt the miscreant and administer the fate that he deserves.”
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Jo Hawk The Writer
If you missed anything you can read
Part I, Here.
Part II, Here.
Part III, Here.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
“Uzair… Uzair, come quickly. I need you,” D’ArtAnna called, sprinting under the pergola. It was encased with gnarled, twining wisteria vines.
Ralph ran behind her. The dense stems, thicker than his thigh, created an impenetrable wall forcing them to follow the flagstones laid in intricate patterns on the path’s floor. A hundred yards further, the tunnel ended in a circular courtyard bathed in sunlight. Ralph slowed, blinking, surprised by the size and the light, the fortress was larger than he had expected. Overhead a cheerful, cloudless blue sky greeted them. Along the perimeter were stone structures that towered four stories up the side of the constricting mountain. They gave the appearance of being carved from the black granite cliff by a brilliant stonemason.
D’ArtAnna’s pace had not slowed. She led them left, crossing the yard toward a shorter structure that seemed separated from the rest of the buildings.
“Uzair, help me,” she called.
To Ralph’s right, a door opened, and a massive, bulking figure ducked under a low lintel.
“I’m coming. What’s the…” his voice trailed off as he straightened, taking in the scene unfolding in front of him. Without thinking, he pivoted and charged at Ralph.
Standing tall, Uzair reached his full height. He was a giant. Ralph froze in his tracks to face him head-on. Uzair’s eyes burned with rage, his long, coal-black hair fanning out behind him as he ran. He stretched his arms wide revealing a broad well-muscled chest with strange tattoos. Ralph guessed this guy could squash his skull with a single massive hand.
“Great, this monster means to kill me,” Ralph muttered. The space between them was closing fast. Ralph held his ground, quelling his instinct to run, he knew he faced certain death. The earth shook with Uzair approach, his intention to protect D’ArtAnna was clear. Ralph’s calculations told him he had only one advantage.
A moment before they collided, Ralph danced sideways, ducking under the giant’s outstretched arms, he extended his foot to catch the man’s ankle in mid-stride. The palms of Ralph’s hands kissed the stones, and he tumbled past Uzair. Off-balance, grasping at thin air, Uzair stumbled, landing hard on his face, he howled. The noise echoed through the complex.
Ralph jumped to his feet, his gaze never leaving Uzair, he peddled backward, inching closer to the prince.
“Hey. Wanna call off your dog?” Ralph yelled as the big man began to rise from the pavement.
D’ArtAnna had reached the entrance and unbolted the door. She swung to look at them, groaning when she realized what had happened.
“Damm it, Uzair. Leave him alone, he won’t hurt anyone. I require your help to get him inside. Now Uzair,” she commanded, and she returned to access the prince’s condition.
Confused, Uzair stood motionless, his eyes darting from his mistress to Ralph.
Ralph raised his arms, both palms facing Uzair, he continued moving in the prince’s direction.
“Uzair, if Prince Kennward dies, it will be your fault,” she said over her shoulder.
“Prince Kennward?”
The name prodded Uzair to action, he sprinted to D’ArtAnna, pushing her out of his way. He grabbed the prince and in a fluid movement, rolled him off the horse. He cradled the limp prince against his chest like a small child.
“Where?”
“The cot in the middle of the infirmary,” she said, pointing at the opening. Uzair strode past her, stooped down and twisted his body sideways, making sure he didn’t bang the prince’s head against the doorjamb, he disappeared inside. D’ArtAnna followed. Pausing in the doorway, she glanced back at Ralph.
“Sire, I will need your services too,” she said then vanished. The scent of gardenias remained.
Looking around the empty courtyard, Ralph heard birds singing, the stallion moved, shifting his weight. He patted the animal’s neck.
“I’m not sure who she thinks she’s talking to, but I’ll see to you soon, boy. Thanks for getting us to safety. Pray he lives. Okay?”
The stallion bobbed his head as Ralph stepped through another doorway.
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Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer
Photo by Marc Schaefer on Unsplash
“My God, Charlene… He’s barely alive.” Contempt tainted Haley’s voice.
I didn’t respond. She dug in her tool bag, grabbed a long silver instrument, then she peeled back her palm, revealing the gaping hole in his chest.
I watched her frantic movements, letting the gun spin in my hands. She clamped lines, sopped ooze, trying to save him. I began to question my decision to call Haley. She was the best in her field. Maybe too good. I mean, what would happen if he lived?
“Charlene, will you give me a hand?”
I could tell by her tone, she wasn’t asking. She expected me to jump and do her bidding. She was my friend, but her only concern was saving him, not helping me.
“Charlene?”
“Doesn’t he deserve to die?”
“I can fix him,” she offered, almost pleading.
“Like you did last time?” My voice sounded harsh even to me.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I’ve heard that before. I’d be a fool to help.”
A scenario flickered, then exploded in my mind.
“It’s been you all along, hasn’t it? You’re in love with your creation, your darling automaton. His devotion to me is killing you. You’re programming him to kill me.”
Haley’s face crinkled and felt her simmering hate.
“Yes, when you’re dead, he will love me.”
I saw his processor flicker, and his right hand grabbed her throat. He didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry,” were his last words, as I placed the gun in Haley’s lifeless hand.
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Title: Green Monsters
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words
PHOTO PROMPT © Penny Gadd
I screamed when Mom showed me her newest houseplant. Barely bigger than my thumb, I begged her to destroy it. She laughed.
Each time I visited; it was larger, more menacing. It developed tendrils, and under each leaf, were sharp, curved barbs. They reminded me of claws. Mom was unconcerned.
I tried to enlist my brother’s help. She would listen to him. He called me crazy.
One day Mom didn’t answer her phone. In a panic, I drove her house. A green vine opened the door, invited me inside. I ran, with the sound of laughter ringing in my ears.
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Jo Hawk The Writer
Jo Hawk 