Yesterday’s sad news of Queen Elizabeth’s death seems to have further disrupted to my concentration; I’ve wandered around the house unable to settle to anything.
However, I promised words for today and am offering you:
duty London mourn
I hope to find time to comment on this week’s entries in the next couple of days
Usual rules: 100 words maximum (excluding title) of
flash fiction or poetry using all three words above in the genres of horror,
fantasy, science fiction or noir. Serialised fiction is, as always, welcome.
All variants and uses of the words and stems are fine. Feel free to post links
to your stories on Twitter or Facebook or whichever
Change of focus [484]
ReplyDeletePettinger, both mourning his inability to protect Aleks’ and angry about betrayals – and an invasion – he did not know the extent of, addressed Philly’s insolent brother, ‘Al, Where is–‘
‘Not Al! It’s L. For London –’
‘Where you were conceived I suppose. Like Philly is Philadelphia. But I’m more concerned for Aleks. My son. For whom I have a duty of care. Whose survival is uppermost in my mind. God knows he’s survived enough horror in his thirteen years – and he trusted Philly –‘
‘More than you did?’
‘I’ve more experience of the many ways trust can be broken.’
Aleks certainty enjoys a unique childhood. Nicely done.
DeleteImpasse [Threshold 406]
ReplyDeleteA propos of nothing, watching the fast moving water gouge its path through the desert sand, I found myself singing ‘London Bridge is falling down.’ Raven’s stare held mourning for my sanity. Adopting dutiful submission I apologised, saying, ‘But a bridge – and soon as possible, before it get too wide – is what’s needed.’
‘We’ve nothing of sufficient length.’
‘Have we rope? I could jump across, holding it –‘
‘And tie it to what?’
‘Okay. We both drive down river fast as we can and cross where it’s still dry. First one across takes the rope –’
‘We don’t have rope.’
Well, it was a good plan for a while. I loved it when Raven questioned her sanity, but it probably helped her cope.
ReplyDeleteYou reckon, John?
Delete