Flashie Friday, Anyone?

Here are 9 stone images. Choose one, write a poem or a piece of short fiction (on FB we hold it to 100 words, but here we’ll go up to 250) using the image as inspiration. Post that in a comment. Please give it a title. It does help. 🙂 I’ll keep an eye on the comments and pull your writing into a separate post so that it doesn’t get lost.

Everyone got their keyboards sharpened? Good! Here are the pics. Go!

_DSC4205 102_0221 IMG_1081_1 IMG_6216a NZAUS trip 689 stone-face DSC09057 PICT3617 _DSC6540-01

23 thoughts on “Flashie Friday, Anyone?

  1. The Ammonite.
    The stone woke and the spirit of the Ammonite broke free and surveyed the beach that had become its home. I was once King of the seas and roamed at will. All creatures paid homage to me and now I am frozen in stone! I curse the coming of the comet and the ending of my world. I was supreme amongst my kind and now reduced to this. The pattern of the rings of growth have calcified into stone, but stone endures and my soul remains trapped in the debris along with it. I feel the long gone touch of the sea and sunlight upon my substance. “I am here,” I call out to the empty beaches and wait for some reply.
    A hand made of flesh reaches for me and I am placed into a sack, gathered with others of my kind. I find that I am destined to be displayed in a glass case and put on show!
    I was once mighty and feared.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Wren, when I put your lovely poem next to Susan’s, I get a picture that fills my heart. For her, the beast is crumbling, giving way to forces beyond human control. For you, he may be reborn. For both of you, he is a colossus, a reminder of all that was and will remain powerful and positive in this universe. xxErin


    1. Thank you Erin for your wonderful response. When I saw that photo on my wall, immediately I saw the lonely, the forlorn, the forgotten, and too the hope of redemption and rebirth. That inner beauty being discovered and reawakened. There is a duality in it, with so many people. So much is unseen. Each of us have felt moments like this, were we are the unseen, and too, we have been the discoverers of all that is inwardly beauteous. ~~~ ❤


  3. Top left photo. ‘The Forgotten One’

    His kind had been many, once, a long time ago.
    Forgotten alone, upon wind swept, grassy hill.
    Time has flowed past him, lonely sentinel in stone.
    Many wander by, never seeing what once was.

    His tears now long since immortalized forever.
    A worn, wind hewn expression, tired and forlorn.
    Watching with eyes far removed from this times river.
    Waiting for his hardened heart to become reborn.


  4. Shell I be your Valentine?

    The tide receded and the door in the centre of the ammonite popped open. A head darted out, followed by a slithery body and silver tail. The creature shook itself and spotted a glistening shell on its front door step.
    “For you, my Love.” The creature read on the attached label. With a swift shudder and shake, the creature changed form, legs becoming tail and upper limbs appearing where none had been, reaching out to the shell.
    Which grew legs itself and scuttled away.
    “A pet? Or a hunt?” the Sea Pixie asked the air.
    Nothing answered her, apart from the scrape of claws as the shell got further away. She scrambled over the outer edge of the ammonite and followed it. The label blew away in an errant gust which rocked both shell and Pixie.
    At the edge of a rock pool, the shell made good its escape, dropping into the depths with a tiny squeak of happiness.
    The Pixie sat down and stared after it. “Now what do I do?”
    “Nothing.” A face poked up out of the water and another Sea Pixie climbed out of the pool. “I sent it to you.”
    “Why?” She asked.
    “To bring you here.” He held out one hand.
    She smiled and took his hand. “You could have just knocked.”
    “After all these years, I thought you might want a replay of our first meeting.”
    She giggled and kissed him. “Let’s go then.”
    They slipped into the rock pool and disappeared.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Shieling

    He’d found a dolmen, its linteled roof now shingled with grass and moss, and he’d called it his own. Aye, a shieling, a place of refuge from winter’s raw wind. A place to bring his fractured spirit whenever the loneliness began to sink deeper into the creases of his face.

    Squatting, he built a fire in the stone-ringed pit and listened to the harsh cries of his father, whose gruff breath stirred the flames, and he spoke to him.

    “Father Wind, nae sate your hunger in the marrow of me bones.”

    With a charred stick, he stirred the crying mouths of flame until they licked at the skin of his bare legs.

    The heat was good. And he was very tired. Tomorrow perhaps the hunt would bring peace to his knotted belly.

    His head drooped, then fell on his chest.

    Outside the rude door, a footfall he never heard. The hunt had come to him.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The Messenger of Spring actually appears in another short of mine – “The Promise of Spring” – which, incidentally was a reaction to another flash fiction challenge on Zoetrope… and yes, that one got away from me too.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. The sun rose, coating the standing stone with golden light, melting the last few ice crystals lodged in the ancient carvings. Inside the granite monolith, the spirit stretched and yawned. “Your turn.” It called out as it curled up. “Winter’s over.”

    The breeze took up the spirit’s voice and delivered it to a nearby Apple Tree. The dryad stuck her head out of the trunk and took a deep breath of fresh air. “It’s time. Everyone wake up!”
    The buds on the apple tree began to shed their fuzzy coating, the Snowdrops scattered in the grass at the tree’s roots burst into bright white flowers. The Snowdrop fairy tidied the petals and then dropped to the ground to check on her sister, the Camellia Fairy who was having trouble persuading the flowers to open on her bush.

    As the sun rose, the camellia blooms popped open. From a nearby burrow, a young rabbit poked his nose out of the front door, then hopped out onto the grass, sniffing at the Snowdrop fairy as she flew past him.
    “Stop that.” She scolded. “I haven’t got time to play at the moment.”
    The dryad stepped out of her tree and stretched, before bending down and scooping the rabbit up into her arms. “You’ve grown a lot over the winter.” She said, scratching behind his ears.
    “What do you expect him to do? Shrink?” A voice said and she turned around.
    The Messenger of Spring sat behind her, washing his long ears.

    Liked by 1 person

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