Microfiction #writephoto: A lonely child

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

The child stood on tiptoe to peer through the leaded panes, breathed on a diamond and drew a smiley face in the moisture. It was cold outside, and not much warmer inside. She shivered. The room was high and bare, like most of the castle rooms, but this was even barer than most and tiny, much higher than it was wide. There was nothing in it except a wooden chest pushed against a wall.

Perhaps because it was the only object in the room, perhaps because of some other attraction, the child approached and ran her fingers over the carved flowers and birds.

It’s a girl’s box, she thought, full of some girl’s things.

Pushing with both hands, she raised the lid. Cold air rushed out and around her, lifting the fine locks of hair about her face. With a sharp cry, she let the lid drop and…

View original post 51 more words

Friday Fantasy ~ Mistress of Twilight – #poetry

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

She is the mistress, the start of the night

Blazing blue eyes, that summon twilight

Covering skies, yes, she’s gazing at you

Darkening paths, as the stars become new

Teasing with glimmers, the last of the light

Dreams become real, when she slips out of sight

©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

View original post

The Electric Frying Pan

To Cut a Short Story Short

(500 words)

‘Connect’ 10.05 service from Welwyn to Kings Cross pulled up at New Barnet station. I stood at the open door. It was February 2007, drizzling and cold. Where was Danny?!
Suddenly a small stout figure appeared from nowhere, bundling along the platform. Seeing me, he threw himself through the door, his plump face grinning widely. “Almost missed it!”
“Where’s your jacket?” I noticed spots of rain on his grey shirt.
“I didn’t have time to get it.” Typical Danny, always late for school or his guitar lessons!
“Aren’t you cold?”
“No,” he said, shivering. Then, “Dad gave me some money.” He brandished a couple of tenners.
“You’ll need it where we’re going!”
Half an hour later we passed through the hallowed doors of Harrods, England’s premier department store. There, for a month, was Born to Rock, an exhibition of electric guitars. We wandered past…

View original post 397 more words