The Sands of Time

PHOTO PROMPT – © Sandra Crook

I remember.

Your mocking laugh as you exited the dark dungeon where I was imprisoned.

I was betrayed by my Queen, her laughter embraced you outside.

I ate rats to survive even as you waited for me to die.

You feared that the news of my death would spur my supporters to revolt.  Or did you expect me to strike beyond the grave?

You broke my bones but my spirit grew.  I did what no mortal had done before. I found a way out of that hell.

Beware the passing sands of time.  Fear me now for I am death.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Work has me travelling between two cities again, which might have contributed to my absence from the prompt last week.  So this time to make amends I offer two stories.  One of a softer hue and this one is slightly dark.

To read the other stories churned up by the sands of time click here. 

As Time Goes By

PHOTO PROMPT – © Sandra Crook

You must remember this, that first cake you baked, it had the consistency of rubber and yet I ate it all.  I would have finished it but then you had to have a bite.  Through your stifled tears I explained that no one had made one for me before.

And when two lovers woo there are no instructions to follow.

Moonlight and love songs - never out of date, but the neighbours didn’t concur when I performed a midnight serenade.

It's still the same old story but I am glad to have you by my side as time goes by.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Work has me travelling between two cities again, which might have contributed to my absence from the prompt last week.  So this time to make amends I offer two stories.  This one is of a softer hue and the other slightly dark.

 And those who recognise the song here is the original

To read the other stories churned up by the sands of time click here. 

Paradise Lost

PHOTO PROMPT © Erin Leary

Distant rumbles leave her perturbed.  Is it thunder or guns? One can never tell these days. Chilly gusts of wind swoop in as she draws her shawl closer around her shoulders.

The lake’s shoreline lies under a cover of lotus flowers, water lilies and water chestnuts. In summer it transforms into a floating vegetable garden. In happier times the houseboats would be full of tourists, now only the brave venture here.

She watches the predatory grey herons wade into the water, for them the paradise still lives on. Hers died the day her son stepped on the land mine.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

I confess the picture had me stumped.   The obvious route was to have a dead body or two and submerged under the lilies.  That and bad time management in setting time aside to write makes this probably the last entry.  Yes the story is darker but a tiny reflection of our troubled world.  One day peace will return and it will be paradise regained.

To read the other stories floating around, click here.