Flashie Friday! Er, Saturday and Sunday, too!

Flashies are fun! Bonita Franks, AKA Erin O’Quinn, and I try to do this as often as possible, and y’all are invited to participate! Here are 6 photo prompts. Choose one (or more, if you’re feeling really writerly) and compose us something! Poem, short fiction, maybe even nonfiction memoir. Here’s the catch. 300 word limit. Sorry about that, but there ya go. It wouldn’t be a challenge if there weren’t limits. For those who’ve already written something in the FB thread, if you want to expand (limit there is 100 words, folks!), here’s your chance. Post your contribution in the comments (please identify which image, and give your piece a title), and either this evening or tomorrow, I’ll make individual posts of each of them (under your names of course) UNLESS you request that I not do that. To make it easier to identify the images, they’re captioned.

Ready? Great! Here are the pics! And… GO!!!!

Autumn Stone Bridge

old stone bridge, Scotland, autumn

Golden Chains

Golden Chains

Perth with Frost

Perth with Frost

Red Bridge Winter

Red Bridge in Winter

Here to There

Here to There

 

white bridges

White Bridges

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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10 Responses to Flashie Friday! Er, Saturday and Sunday, too!

  1. laurieboris says:

    Thank you, Suzana.

    —–

    Bridge Closure

    Contractions like an army of fists punched Andrea’s uterus, and she dug her fingers into Dave’s upholstery. Three assaults ago, she’d figured out that her screams did nothing to part the red sea of brake lights stretching from one shore of the Hudson to the other. When her child took his own foot off her internal accelerator, she pulled sweaty hair from her neck and asked Dave to at least open the window. “Can’t,” he said. “Police orders. Lock vehicles, keep windows closed. The guy’s armed and dangerous.”

    “I’m gonna be armed and dangerous soon. Open the fucking window or I’m busting out of here. I am NOT having this baby in a goddamned car in the middle of the goddamned bridge.”

    He cracked it a half inch. “Happy?”

    “Fuck you.”

    “You’d rather get shot by some bank robber on the loose? Yeah. Awesome. Love you, too.”

    “You’d rather sit here with the windows closed while this puddle of amniotic fluid bakes in ninety-degree heat and OUR CHILD falls out of me and onto your Yosemite Sam floor mats, which I don’t think you’ve cleaned in…forever? OWWWWW!!!!”

    “How long was that?”

    “Bite me.”

    “Not a measurement of time.”

    “Not helping.”

    The whup-whup of a police chopper flew overhead. Andrea considered jumping out and flagging it down, but Dave had the goddamned childproof locks on. “I hate you.” She pressed her lips to the centimeter of space at the top of the window. “HEY! WOMAN IN LABOR HERE!”

    Her plea resulted in a ruckus of shouting and honking. Then a soft tap on her door. Andrea peered over. A young, scared-looking man crouched next to the car. When their eyes met, they softened with kindness. “My sister, she had four kids,” he whispered. “I helped deliver two.” Something metallic flashed in the waistband of his jeans. “Look. This was all a big misunderstanding. If I help you…will you help me?”

    “Open the door,” she told Dave.

    “But…”

    Another contraction threatened. She dug her feet into Yosemite Sam’s face. “Open. The. Door. Now.”

  2. erinsromance says:

    Laurie, this is just goddamned amazingly great! It needs to become a short story or a novel. Right away! You have such a handle on metaphor (the sea of red brake lights), on dialogue, on painting a vivid picture with very few words. You’ve left me in a place where my imagination fills in the blanks; but I want to read much more. Brilliant.

  3. mo883mpetersdesires says:

    Oh man! Oh, Laurie, this was AMAZING! I LOVE it! Oh, I have chills all over! This was FABULOUS!

  4. mo883mpetersdesires says:

    Here To There (Pic is second from the bottom)

    He paced, whining, the width of the stone bridge from one side to the next. Beneath him, water chuckled evilly.

    He didn’t *have* to go over the bridge, which stank of Man and something worse. He could go back.

    Why had he come out here? Why had he left the sanctuary of the Pack, and come to this awful bridge that stank of awful things? If he thought his Pack would have heard him, he might have lifted his muzzle to the sky and howled his fear. Would gladly have given into the shame that would come when they had to rescue him because he, a great wolf, could not cross even the most sluggish of streams without scenting it with the high stink of his fear.

    Oh, whyyyy had he come here?

    “You are a silly wolf, aren’t you? Come on this way. Yes, I know – you can smell the hurt. But it’s only for a second. Like pulling a prickleburr’s quill out of your nose. One, two, and done.”

    Oh.

    *That’s* why he had come.

    Because She had led him here.

    And if She had crossed … well, then he could do it. She had led him on a merry chase, but she had always left more than enough of her scent – and her desire for him – to keep him coming, no matter how many twists and turns she had taken. He had come this far.

    And She was there.

    He scented the air, catching the woman-musk of her. Soon, the moon would rise, and they would hunt.

    And run.

    And mate.

    He felt no pain at all when he crossed that little bridge, leaving his world behind. What need had he for magic now, anyway?

    She was all the magic he had ever needed.

  5. 5th photo down, the old stone bridge: w/c 296:

    “We were told to wait here. On this side. And nary a toe was to go beyond Silvanna.” Renni looked at the smaller girl who had come with her. Her first time to the Portal.

    “Nothing ever happens to Madge when she goes over. And look at the water. Its the same here as it is on the other side. Right? It even looks to flow from there,” reaching down she cupped her hand in the water and flicked it at the older girl, “to here!”

    “Really? Was that necessary?” She wiped her cheek where droplets had landed. “Madge can do whatever is needed to be done. Kind of comes with being our clan leader.” She looked down at her again. “We just do not mix, they and us. Ever Silvanna.”

    “But there was a time when we could go over. Whenever we wanted to.”

    “That was then, not now.”

    “But humans are still humans and fey are still fey. Just yesterday I saw Reginald take his lavender over, soaring above the storm clouds.”

    Renni looked startled. “His lavender— dragon?”

    “Yes! And I’ve heard that things are changing. A new vibration is reemerging. I’ve even heard that —-perhaps, it can be as it was before.” She waited to see what Renni would say. “Maybe we could just— take a little peek?”

    Renni wavered. “Madge said—”

    “Nary a toe. I heard her. But—” she smiled a secret smile. “Reginald is meeting us here. Need I add, —-with his lavender. We could just fly there, over a few clouds, we’d be back before Madge even knew we were gone.”

    Just then a hushing sound could be heard, the beat of muscular wings. “He’s here! He’s here Renni!”

    The older girl looked from approaching dragon back to the Portal—-

  6. Second photo down, the chain: w/c 300:

    “Dwarven Steel. So powerful it is virtually indestructible. Forged from our deepest, most ancient mines.” The instructor turned his back to the newest class laying his hand upon a length of massive chain. “No such thing as a weak link to be found.” Turning back towards the students. “Never, —-in all the eons of forging these. And its a bit of a secret, our steel has been sent over to other realms.”

    A young dwarf in the back of the class raised his hand uncertainly.

    “Yes?”

    “Other realms Sir?”

    Patting the hefty link affectionately he smiled. “Of course. This is no ordinary steel, nor the links in any way are they ordinary. You think this is accomplished with any sort of ease,” he clicked a small remote in his hand. “Say there, in that realm?” He pointed toward a bridge that spanned a bay being projected on the great white board. “Being used everyday for their needs.”

    Another youthful Dwarf pointed toward the bridge. “How does the steel get there?”

    The instructor smiled. “Now that, that is the secret that you will learn after you step into the mines and begin on your noble journey working from below ground up. Literally. Secrets like these, those come after you have earned them. Proved your worth. Any other questions?”

    He scanned the class of the newest lads to head down into the mine and remembered his own first days before heading down as his father’s father had before him. Once more he patted the steel link lovingly. “It’s a good life lads, a very good life. The life we live, it’s in our blood, our bones. It’s who we are. Steel has a feel to it, you’ll find out. It is the heartbeat of our mountains, our land,—of our very souls.”

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