Just Two Left – #Prosery

‘What did you just say?’ Selwin asked, leaning his body through the open doorframe. He squinted past the greasy smoke and spotted Jak crouched by the hearth, hands out to the spluttering flames.
‘I went out to the hazel wood, because a fire was in my head,’ Jak muttered, his scalp mottled and pink in the gloom.
‘It wasn’t in your head.’ Selwin crossed the room to open the back door. ‘You messed with a bad spell and set the world alight.’
‘It needed to be let out.’
‘It needed you to mind your own business.’ He waved a hand in front of his face, the air clearing slowly. He frowned at the shadows across Jak’s features.
‘New worlds rise from ashes,’ muttered the broken wizard.
‘Not from these.’
Selwin sighed and sagged against the doorframe. ‘Your just lucky enough not to see it.’

Tonight’s DVerse Prosery prompt takes inspiration from the poem ‘The Song of Wandering Aengus’ by Yeats.

‘I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head’.

April Speculative Fiction Prompt

The guidelines for those of you who are new are as follows:

  • Speculative Fiction: a genre of fiction that encompasses works in which the setting is other than the real world, involving supernatural, futuristic, or other imagined elements. [Oxford Dictionary]
  • Use the image below to write a story, poem, perhaps even a script. There are no rules about form or style. If you would like to create a piece of art in response that is also welcome. This prompt is about being artistic and creative in whatever way suits you best.
  • Please keep entries PG as this is open to all. (i.e no erotica)
  • The prompt is open from the first of the month to the end of the month.
  • Use pingbacks to link up to the prompt or leave a link in the comments section. Whichever you prefer.
  • I try to at least read every entry in the prompt and I’d love to encourage anyone taking part to try and check some of the other entries if they can.
  • As always, re-tweets, re-blogs, and shares are gratefully received. We are always open to new participants.

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Image by Victor reinhold from Pixabay

January Speculative Fiction Prompt

The guidelines for those of you who are new are as follows:

  • Speculative Fiction: a genre of fiction that encompasses works in which the setting is other than the real world, involving supernatural, futuristic, or other imagined elements. [Oxford Dictionary]
  • Use the image below to write a story, poem, perhaps even a script. There are no rules about form or style. If you would like to create a piece of art in response that is also welcome. This prompt is about being artistic and creative in whatever way suits you best.
  • Please keep entries PG as this is open to all. (i.e no erotica)
  • The prompt is open from the first of the month to the end of the month.
  • Use pingbacks to link up to the prompt or leave a link in the comments section. Whichever you prefer.
  • I try to at least read every entry in the prompt and I’d love to encourage anyone taking part to try and check some of the other entries if they can.
  • As always, re-tweets, re-blogs, and shares are gratefully received. We are always open to new participants.

Happy New Year and Happy Writing!

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October Speculative Fiction Prompt

Well September is over and October is here in full force. Leaves are on the turn, England has turned grey and rainy (well even more so than usually) and everywhere you look people are prepping for Halloween (or in some cases Christmas).

This is the second month that I’ve had the honour of hosting the Speculative Fiction Prompt  and hopefully this month’s image inspires as much as last month’s. If you want to read the stories for last month then you can check them out at the September Speculative Fiction Prompt.

The guidelines for those of you who are new are as follows:

  • Speculative Fiction: a genre of fiction that encompasses works in which the setting is other than the real world, involving supernatural, futuristic, or other imagined elements. [Oxford Dictionary]
  • Use the image below to write a story, poem, perhaps even a script. There are no rules about form or style. If you would like to create a piece of art in response that is also welcome. This prompt is about being artistic and creative in whatever way suits you best.
  • Please keep entries PG as this is open to all. (i.e no erotica)
  • The prompt is open from the first of the month to the end of the month.
  • You can create a pingback or use the link up below. Whichever method you are more comfortable with.
  • I try to at least read every entry in the prompt and I’d love to encourage anyone taking part to try and check some of the other entries if they can.
  • As always, re-tweets, re-blogs, and shares are gratefully received. We are always open to new participants.

October Speculative Fiction
Image by DarkWorkX from Pixabay

Now that the guidelines are out of the way, it’s over to you. Take a look at the picture above and let loose your creativity. Have fun.

Heart Of The Dead #FlashFiction #SeptemberSpeculativeFictionPrompt

When the bodies washed ashore, the novices were there to pluck them from the mud.

It wasn’t pleasant work. It was a short trip from the edge of the city to the bend in the river. The unfortunates who made it, came out of the silt choked waters heavy and stinking, muscles still locked up by rigour mortise.

‘Another one!’ The cry went up from lower down the bank, further along than the bodies usually travelled.

Flexing her fingers to work some of the feeling back into them, Maradine followed the other novices to the cry and tried to avoid looking as if she was dawdling. She let herself breath when she saw the child, eyes huge and bug like, withered limbs half buried in the mud. It was small, small enough for two of the novices to manhandle inside the temple doors without need of her help. She didn’t try to work out how this one had found its way to them. The monks frowned on questions regarding the vessels.

‘Jamie, Galeth, you take this one,’ said the Thalt. He was the oldest of them and as such was able to avoid the task of ferrying the dead back and forth. He stood and watched until the two younger novices had hefted the child between them, Jamie with his hands under its knees, Galeth at the shoulders. They stumbled in the mud but kept their footing. Dropping one of the vessels always resulting in a beating.

The rest of them lingered as Thalt moved on, casting a careful eye over the banks. He was short for his age, not that any of them were entirely sure of their ages. If Maradine had to guess, she would say he was close to his fifteenth year, almost a man in most circles. Thalt certainly seemed to think so. He had taken to coercing female novices into shadowed corners and empty supply rooms. Told them that it was their duty to serve all those above them in the order.

Maradine had been spared his attentions, but only because of her markings. The ones that her village had said made her a witch.

The wind picked up and Maradine clutched her robes tighter. It was still early and the bodies had been few which meant she was still dry. Soon enough the noon bells would toll in the city and the gallows would begin their daily work of filling the river. By evening she would be as wet and rank as the dead they salvaged.

She glanced up at the temple behind them, its low, squat roof crouching at the foot of the mountains. By evening the dead boy would be sat at a bench with the rest of the novices, fresh robes still stiff with starch on his fragile, little body. She wondered how long it would take him to speak. She had been silent for almost a month before Thalt had beaten words from her throat. It had been the first and the last time he laid hands on her. The only time she had believed her village might have been right about her.

She shivered again and turned her gaze away from the temple.

Once she was old enough she would be sent out on assignment. Then should might have chance to run. Until then she was bound to the will of the monks, and the flow of the river.

She watched Thalt pause at the water’s edge and counted the seconds until he moved on.

Patience was all she needed. Patience and a heart of the dead.

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Flash Fiction written for the September Speculative Fiction Prompt. If you would like to join in then please follow the link and share your own speculative fiction pieces based on the image above. There are no word count limits, no form specifications, just a picture and your imagination.