Flash Friday Fiction: The Tracks of Time

Posted on by — No Comments ↓
Gare du Nord, Paris. CC Photo by Elliot Gilfix.
Gare du Nord, Paris. CC Photo by Elliot Gilfix.

The Tracks of Time – 160 words

It always comes back to this. This place, that time, those memories.

No matter how far I go, no matter how fast I flee, I’m drawn back here, time and again. A moth to the flame, a half to its whole. Two sides of the same coin.

Age has changed me, changed the landscape, changed reality. Gone are the lush green pastures, the stone, the sword. Gone are the robes, the flowing hair. Gone is the magic.

All lies covered now by a different kind of steel, a different kind of power. A path to nowhere, never changing, forever the same. When the bells ring out, they call people to board, not to prayer.

But I come back, always. For where your treasure is, so will your heart be, also.

Perhaps today you will rise from the belly of the beast. Perhaps today your promise will be fulfilled.

I remain your faithful servant. I am waiting for you, Arthur.

Always.

————————————————————————————————-

This week’s Flash Friday Fiction challenge required us to fit “treasure” into our 150 word limit (+/- 10) in some way. Perhaps because it’s Good Friday in the Christian world, my mind immediately flew to the Bible verse from Matthew, “For where your treasure is, so will your heart be, also.” That, combined with Easter-ly thoughts of resurrection and promise, led me again to the myths and legends that tell of another iconic figure who is promised to return again when our need is greatest.

What do you think of this week’s tale? When I can combine my love for writing with my love for Merlin, I am one happy Flasher.

Er, you know what I mean.

Throwback Thursday: A Winter’s Walk – 1990

Posted on by — No Comments ↓

This little bit of writing may pre-date Chandler Bing by a few years, but could it BE anymore dramatic (especially my Use of Capital Letters)? What can I say – I’ve always been, erm, highly in touch with my emotions.

I drafted this while away at college for the first time. I spent my freshman year at Ripon College in Wisconsin, eight hours away from my home. As I struggled with some of the adjustments we all face moving from teenage-hood to adulthood, I started walking around the streets of Ripon to clear my head. This, apparently, was one day’s result:

bench-under-a-snowy-tree-524-600x340A Winter’s Walk

I went soul-searching today, and found what I had lost. Unto the world I may be trivial, but that makes my problems mere trivialities. I may have no impact on the world but the world has an impact on me, and that is why I’m alive. That is why I LIVE.

Walking across endless fields of decaying corn standing withered but facing the wind proudly, I breathe in the scent of nature. The finger cracks in the black of the street reach out, beckon, lure…The glory of the magnificent sky blue overhead with streaks of white weaving across it in asymmetrical symmetry draws my eyes upward.

A tiny plane floats above, breaking the purity of the heights, and I wonder with quiet apathy where it is flying and who is on it and what kind of lives do they live? My eyes drift downward and my mind falls on a house. It is a box, an enclosing, encroaching structure, but in its own way beauty, too, for behind the window lurks a heart. The houses come alive, begging me to admire them in their cold facades. But here a flower drawn by childish hands hangs in the window and the paint on the pane is chipping off. The houses are not perfect either in their detached loneliness.

The street fingers lead me on, my closed mind opening up to the signs of life around me, and what life there is! How Wonderful it is to be Alive Today! Hand in hand with the icicle stream, the barren trees twisting their mystical lore around me I walk on and silent nature speaks through the rustling of the rushes, the distant chuckling of the winter water, the whistling of the boughs over me. I breathe in air, new air, filling me with inner peace, serenity, insight into myself. Today I went soul-searching and Found what I had Lost.

Flash Friday Fiction: Crossroads

Posted on by — No Comments ↓
Mill Creek Watershed 1949. Public domain photo by Helmut Buechner.
Mill Creek Watershed 1949. Public domain photo by Helmut Buechner.

Crossroads – 165 words

“My wife was right. We should have asked for directions.”

“The devil is in the doubting, my man.”

“But we’re not dressed for this.”

“You have gloves on. What’s the problem?”

“I…I…I was supposed to be home hours ago to help my son with his algebra.”

“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of adventure? It’s not like opportunities like this come along every day.”

“You call wading around in the snow without food, water, or proper outerwear opportunity? I can’t even feel my ears anymore.”

“Good God. You’re such a baby.”

“Fine. What do you see? Are we close?”

“Just over that mountain.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure moving forward beats going backward. The devil is in the doubting.”

He paused for a moment, settling his weight onto his left leg as he squinted into the distance, trying to see the promise his companion saw. He thought of his disapproving wife, his whiny children, his monotonous dead-end job.

“Lead on, Beezlebub. Lead on.”

——————————————————————————————

Ever have one of those moments where you think you know what you’re doing, only to realize a split second too late that you don’t? Yeah, that’s what happened to me this week – for some reason I was thinking I could go up to 165 words. Nope. The limit is 150, +/- 10. Can you tell I wasn’t a math major?

Well, even though I disqualified myself from the competition before it even began, I hope you enjoy the story. Perhaps you can hop on over to Flash Friday Fiction and show you’re more with it today than I am by submitting your own tale. Within the proper word limit, of course.