100 Words: Inspired by a story told by our guide during a walking tour of Cambridge

Silence.

All he knew was silence.

Long,

hard;

though not cold.

He did not regret his vow, indeed he believed in its importance; but sometimes he felt a bitterness while remembering speech; or song.

That is why when the choir came, everything changed.

As he sat listening, the sounds filled the air around him, embracing him as an old friend.  Tears streamed from his eyes and left his cheeks sodden.  

Without ever having been unhappy he was the happiest he had been since his vow.

A week later he left all habits and vows behind to serve God through song.

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Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word Habit.

100 Words: While you are alive, you are never out of time

The hourglass drained away to nothing and I ran out of time.

Having been found in the master’s daughter’s bed, offering an explanation could have meant death.  I kept silent and was banished.  

Initially I wandered aimlessly, wishing we’d been caught the first time... until I learned she was sticking by me and had been locked away.  

I got it together, spent my time selling hourglasses and learning swordplay.  

Our legend grew and people started to gather.  

Soon, with the hourglass as our sigil, we will move on the castle.  

While you are alive, you are never out of time.

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Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT – © Sandra Crook

An InLinkz Link-up

100 Words: Ghost Writer

The report was due before the weekend and I sat at my desk, an empty piece of paper in front of me, trying to summon words from within.  

Nothing would come, though, and I started to get frustrated at the thought of working late or, worse, through the weekend.  

In trying to calm myself down and gain focus I said out loud, “Come on, James, this report won’t write itself!”  

When, lo and behold, writing began to appear on the paper.  

I have done no work since.  

Really, I couldn’t recommend them more.  Everyone should have a benevolent helper ghost.

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Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word Luck.

100 Words: On Luck

Luck’s all in the mind, of course.  As anyone who’s narrowly avoided death will confirm.   “I wasn't lucky to have been in the accident,”  they might say.  

Yet, if you win the lottery, you will be also be considered lucky; for luck has nothing to do with action.

Even if it was manufactured, luck would not be guaranteed; it would only increase your chances, surely- a hipflask in your breast pocket will only save your life if you are shot there.  
So, really, when you look at, all you can say is I couldn’t think of a story this week.

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Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word Luck.

My lack of a proper story shall be blamed on my having already written something that would have worked for the old 100 Word Challenge when the prompt was Clover ;)

100 Words: Idea

An idea is a seed planted in the earth of the mind, whose waters and light help it to germinate, take root and grow.  Sometimes that earth, and those roots, may be spread through many heads before birthing plants, flowers and fruit.


Love is not an idea, it is much more than that.  An intricate structure built together by individuals to stand against earthquakes, storms and, most of all, the greatest eroder: time.


Ideas and love can join and they can divide- cause war and destruction as much as evolution, marriage and children.  For nothing in this world is perfect.

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Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word Idea.

100 Words: Once peculiar scenes after the end of the world

Trafalgar Square empty of humans and pigeons alike.

Disneyland lawns overgrown and irregular, weeds dotted here and there.

The Eiffel Tower invisible against the night sky.

Motorways and freeways, junctions and turnpikes, clear from beginning to end.

Church and tower bells ring for no one, bring nothing at all to congregate.

The Sphinx once more buried in sand.

A single flower sprouts from the centre of a pathway on the Great Wall of China.


CCTV cameras stare blindly across these once peculiar scenes; and all that remains waits for evolution to start up once more. 

Until then, their world crumbles.

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Written for 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebookhttp://thinspiralnotebook.com/; the prompt was the word Peculiar.

Testimony and Statement

It had been so well barricaded that it took us a few minutes to get through the door.  The inside was was dark throughout as they’d cut the power from the inside so even though we’d had the power company hook them up again, we were forced to use torches and uncover the horrors piece by piece.

We entered through a small utility room that took us through to the staff rest room.  That’s where we found the enamel mugs.  A great big pile of old and chipped mugs, the metal showing in patches all over.

I thought little of it at the time, figured they’d been forced to stop washing-up and started to pile everything up.  Even when I looked closely at one, though, and saw a name scratched onto the bottom, I didn’t think much of it.  Just shrugged and thought they were a bit possessive of the company’s mugs.  

Guess that was a part of the reason they were protesting, I suppose, to try and gain back a little something to call their own.

Anyway, that’s irrelevant and I apologise.

We carried on through to the packing area and found it completely empty of people.  Of its goods, though, it was teeming.  Every machine had finished... < products >... placed all the way along; and they were stacked up at either end too, and along the walls.  

There were no... < raw parts >..., nothing in a semi fashioned state.  Not even boxes of... < raw parts >... or ... < raw parts >....  

It was very strange and unnerving.  I think because it was all so deliberate.  We expected to find an abandoned plant, not a modern art piece from before.  

I think the fact that there were no raw parts surprised me the most.  They had clearly not stopped work during the strike.  Which was just weird in a creepy way.

Anyway, sorry, what they did has clearly affected me too much.  

I led my team on toward the warehouse, where all these things should have been boxed up and ready to ship.  

It was there that we found what remained of them.  On every shelf in every bay their remains lay, eaten from the inside out.  Just the bones, albeit collapsed and eaten at, bubbled.  No one recognisable at all.  

We believe that they each drank this new poison from the mug bearing their name, and then added it to the pile before walking through to the warehouse and taking their place in on a shelf, turning the whole place into a tomb.  

Later found we their ID cards shredded and burned.  For whatever reason, those mugs were meant to be their epitaph.    


Officer Jones is now recuperating at the new luxury holiday home meant for the workers he found.

The mugs and the bones have been removed, everything has been cleaned and made new.  

Production will never stop again.  

Do not think that we are weak and can be fooled anew.  

We know the source of this poison and have stopped it.

We will stop every further attempt at insurrection.

Just as we did the nepenthe.  Just as we have this new poison.

You harm only yourselves when you struggle.

We Give You Life.  Do not take it away.

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Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the following picture prompt:

Image from Wiki Commons taken by Steve Evans and used under the Creative Commons Agreement