Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 3) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #7.
Today I’m featuring contributions from entry 5) By D.G.Kaye 6)a Haiku By Gwen Plano and our final entry for this week 7) By John Maberry.
Last week I set the following Challenge:
Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing. Maximum word count: 750 words.
Here is the image prompt.
Entry #5 Contributed by D.G.Kaye
Casualties of a Silent War
Suspended in wait while idling in neutral, nothing is certain, nor will ever be the same. The Mother Goddess reveals the consequences of our decisions. A cruel awakening descends upon us, throwing us a glimpse, an acrid taste of what we’ve missed along the way – or perhaps, what we’ve forgotten.
In the bliss of ignorance, choosing not to hear the call, happy to remain invisible contributing to the noise, happy not attracting attention from the powers that be, a desperate attempt to dodge the path of ominous events to come.
I choose to stay in the now and the know, rather than gripping on to the unknown, writhing with fear, camouflaged under nature’s cover where I observe from.
She watches us, hidden and inconspicuous to the naked eye and the passerby. But the all-knowing sees all and straddles in wait for the world to respond.
Mother Nature awaits us
To make the right move
D.G.Kaye may be found here:
#6 This Contribution from Gwen Plano
As I studied the prompt, I thought of storms at sea and sailors helped to safety. Then I thought of you and me, finding our way through a squall of threats and conspiracies. Not so surprisingly, I found hope in the one Light that is never dimmed completely.
I hope you enjoy my Haiku contribution:
Gwen may be contacted … here
#7 … This contribution by Wendy D. Smith (Pen name Wendy D. Gillespie.
UNDER THE SEA
Wendy D. Gillespie
Sunlight sparkled brightly off the whitecaps, the waves crashing almost casually onto the shore. A lone gull hovered overhead, waiting for just the right moment to plunge beneath the waves and claim his catch. The rumble of the breakers was the only sound above the rustle of the dune grass in the breeze. The beach stretched out for half a mile along the waterfront, before disappearing into the rocky cliffs downwind. A family of sandpipers made its way along the surf, darting in and out of the surf line, always just evading the advancing water by a talon’s width.
The waves darkened suddenly with the shadow of a large mass, and a spotted blue tail slapped the surface as a tremendous hulk breached the waves and sank back down into the depths. A cool mist lingered a moment in the morning air before dissipating in the sunlight and all was quiet once more.
A thousand or so years ago, this very shoreline was teeming with college students on spring break, its own sea of blue beach umbrellas on the sand. Perhaps in another ten million years, something resembling Homo sapiens would again populate this stretch of sand with its drunken youth. Perhaps not. The gull screeched four times and circled higher into the sky, as if mourning mankind’s passing. But the sun paid no heed, shining on as it had been doing for five billion years already, and would continue doing for another five. Time enough. Time enough for anything to crawl up from the sea bottom, and claim its foothold on the planet. Anything at all.
Wendy can be reached …
And our final entry for this week’s prompt is number 7) By John Maberry.
Of all the times they’d gone to the Outer Banks, they had never strayed far from shore. They snorkeled. They beachcombed. They took the sailboard lessons but never hang gliding or parasailing. She wanted to try surfing.
“Not for me,” he said, “the channels and the sandbars constantly changing—too risky.”
“Don’t be a wuss, Eddy,” she laughed, “I’m doing it.”
“All right, you go. Just stay away from the fishing piers and the inlets.”
Lighthouses. They loved the lighthouses. Especially the one that had to be moved inland as the shore eroded. It’s the image he saw that reminded him. How she got careless. Careless at that rocky, dangerous shore. The sun between clouds and a high barrier dune, blinded her. She looked away—the wrong way, avoiding the sun’s glare only to catch the flash of the automated lighthouse. She veered too late. Out of the channel onto the rocks emerging at low tide.
Thanks so much for stopping by! The image PROMPT for WEEK #8 will be posted later today.
Find me at …