Tales in twenty five words or less…
The wind whistled through the ruins like whispers of the long-dead ghosts who haunted them. I never saw them. But I knew they were there.
Written for Day 1 of A Month of Mini Writing Challenges 2017: Write a story in 25 words or less set in your favourite place. My favourite place, or at least, one of them, is Moreton Corbet castle in Shropshire, UK.
I thought that I didn’t mind.
I thought that it didn’t matter.
I was wrong.
I minded.
And it mattered.
But it was too late.
She never noticed him until the day he was no longer there, his absence more notable than his presence ever was…
Her eyes were dark like slate, or a stormy sea, and they either told you everything about her, or nothing at all.
The tarot conceals as much as reveals.
Beware novice, and the one who thinks it a game…
They hold truths you don’t dare to name.
This was written for Day 7 of “A Month of Mini Writing Challenges“. See this page here for more details and a list of prompts.
(photo credit: wikipedia)
Carefully she etched her curse on to the lead sheet, before folding it over and casting it into the hot spring.
That’ll teach her.
This was written for Day 1 of “A Month of Mini Writing Challenges“. See this page here for more details and a list of prompts.
So it’s that time of year again…and it also happens to be one of the highlights of my blogging existence…What am I talking about? Sindy’s Spooky Writing Challenge of course! Here’s the first of my stories for this year’s event. It’s a Tale in Twenty Five (a story in twenty five words or less), so it’s really short…
Don’t forget to visit Sindy’s site to check out other offerings for the challenge, from past years as well as this one…
The Necromancers
Darkness fell. As the moon rose, the witches gathered.
Then, by candlelight, the rite was wrought…
…the spirits summoned…
…and the dead walked once more…
The soil churned. A shrivelled hand burst through and wrapped its bony fingers around her ankle and pulled.
The dead always reclaim their own.
Swiftly, the water flowed, cascading over stones and around boulders, oblivious to all and with one goal in mind: getting downstream.
The tarot reader looked at the cards facing her, aghast.
Doom
Destruction.
Death.
At least prophesying misery for a client earned her a fee.
Sammi Cox 