FFfAW – Frozen

Thank you to pixabay.com for your public use photos and our prompt photo.

Thank you to pixabay.com for your public use photos and our prompt photo.

IF you want to read more really great short fiction writes, then please, by all means available to you skip over to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers at:  https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2015/04/14/fffaw-week-of-4-15-2015/  and join in this week’s fun!

Frozen

I never tire of the view, forever frozen on the screen.

See, time stopped. We all knew it would, and it did. Y2K and all that had been blasting the airwaves for months.

12:00 GMT, January 1, 2000; and every monitor in the world froze. Same Image, same time. The world stopped. We stopped. In a million cities we stared at screens, all with this same serene picture.

Was it heaven? Did the rapture come and leave us behind?

12:00 GMT, January 1, 2007… We’re still here. Same image, same time. Did the rapture come and leave us behind?

(94wc)

Y2K = For those who do not remember, the turn of the millenium was believed to be the end of the computerized world as we knew it. People were in a panic believing that our entire electrical and computer related grids would come to a crashing halt just as ball dropped on the new year 2000.

GMT = Greenwich MeanTime. The clock by which most computers of the era were set by.

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The Story is The Story, or is it?

—© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

—© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

“Once upon a time in a land far, far away…”

That’s how the story was supposed to begin, right? Well, it didn’t. So much for fairy tale beginnings… What it should have said was…

Today, right next to her, the world changed. There, now that’s more like it. So, how did that world change? It was all really very simple….

She opened a door.

That door, unbeknownst to her, would lead her into a story that she never would have even have dreamed up. For the door was a portal, and that portal was a door. All things she’d perceived as real were unreal, and all that was unreal was real… That’s how the story was supposed to begin.

(109wc)

If you enjoyed this little story and would like to broaden your horizons by reading other such dazzling tales, then please join all of us out at:   https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/04/06/mondays-finish-the-story-april-6th-2015/

FFAW- Serenity

C. Deborah Miller

Looking at the picture, she couldn’t believe it was so serene a day ago. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue with tiny powder puff clouds. It was surprisingly warm for Spring in the midwest. A welcome relief from winter’s blast. She’d been smiling and  enjoying the wind chimes. A camera flashed; or had it really been a camera, she’d never know for sure. It didn’t matter now, the damage was done.

Beyond the houses, in the small piece of sky she could see, her eyes followed the column of cloud up, up, and up until it branched out like an umbrella, becoming a large mushroom. It’s appearance, the beginning of the end.

It had been all so serene just last week.

C. 2014, Starfire McQuinn. All Rights Reserved.

C. 2014, Starfire McQuinn. All Rights Reserved.

(134 wc, hope that fits within the guidlines, now.)

Appointment

PHOTO PROMPT © Lauren Moscato

PHOTO PROMPT © Lauren Moscato

I stood on the street corner staring. Impossible, and yet, it was there as sure as anything. It remained, a reminder, a warning. Those who entered through the front door at street level, never left by the side door. People entered the building and never returned. I looked down to the business card in my hand. My appointment time… three minutes from now. I’d never been late for an appointment before…

 

This is written for Friday Fictioneers, a 100 word writing challenge presented weekly at:  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  Please, feel free to follow the link for more creative writing fun and festivities.

April Nightmares…

Every April, it seems, I am revisited by the ghosts of days past, storms past, tornadoes past. Every year I hope to be spared, but it’s like my mind has stored this time in my head and will not allow me to forget it.

Nightmare again. Tornado. This time hitting Walton, and on this Thursday of all days. I don’t usually dream about specific dates, but last night, I did.

I’m in a parking lot outside of McD’s right outside the door, my portable Ham radio in hand. I’m looking south-ish over the Kroger’s lot when I see the horizontally twisting clouds forming into a dense pack – Tornado. It’s twisting up into a funnel, it’s vicious finger reaching down, down. It touches Krogers and it explodes. Cars, carts, people, produce… all of it flies up into the sky. Large chunks of concrete walls are spinning through the air. People, screaming and twisting into impossible shapes follow the wicked procession through the spiral. I yell into my radio.

“Callsign”. tornado. walton. tornado. on ground. tornado. buildings demolished. tornado. Mass Casualties. tornado. take cover.

I run inside the restaurant, screaming for everyone to take cover in restrooms. No room left. I return to vestibule, watching the funnel spin down on top of us. Inside the eye for a moment. I hunker down. Repeat call over radio. Tornado on top of us, now. the building begins to scream as pieces and parts explode upward, twisting and spinning along with the bodies of people, bloody bodies, torn bodies. bodies screaming. The air roars. I’m shouting into radio

‘TORNADO. MASS CASUALTIES. EMERGENCY TEAM RESPONSE IMMEDIATE. TORNADO…’

All is silent. I’m covered in blood. There is nothing left around me. Dead bodies lie scattered amid the debri. People screaming, dying, dead.

I wake, soaked in sweat, my heart pounding, my eyes matted with tears.  I dreamed this last night about two days from now. I just felt it needed to be recorded somewhere. It’s just a dream, I keep telling myself, just a flash back dream….

All is in the beholder’s eye…

DSC_0041 DSC_0155

I took the original picture last year while hiking in a local park. Somehow, the solitary little animal shelter sitting in the middle of the huge meadow that had once been a pasture caught my eye. there was a barbed wire fence, old and rusted, between the park and the meadow. Yesterday, that picture fell out of a book and the inspiration to sketch was not to be denied. The quote was one that I had written on the back of the photo.

I wonder what tales this little shed could tell. Who built it, and how long ago? Being a writer, a dozen tales are swimming around in my head. Maybe someday, I’ll use the inspiration in a story.