The traveller stared hopelessly at the broken rails. He walked so long, so deep in the forests, so high up the hills… for this? No, he could not go back to the other said of the rails. His “friends” were waiting. After what he’d said to them… no, that was impossible.
“There must be a way out,” he whispered desperately. A little cobbled path down the side. Could be a ditch or a snake’s den. But it could also be an escape, a trail to somewhere new. Besides, it was a beautiful forest to explore. So, he walked on.
I made a little drawing of the traveller to go with the story.
Note: For me, the story is a metaphor for choices we make in life. Sometimes we go on a path to find a dead-end to our goals. We’re scared to turn back in fear of backlash from others. And perhaps, if we look deeper we may find a little outlet that may lead to something bigger.
The train rushed out of the station, dragging me with it. Hands tied, mouth gagged and eyes burning with tears too stubborn to fall.
Outside of the old window, I see my hometown blurring away. The station where I sold newspapers, the roads where I begged and… the cluster of stones where I had awakened the curse.
Another lashing hit my arm.
“How did you do that, scoundrel?”
Master shouted. I kept mum.
Another lash of whip.
“When will that creature come alive, you
urchin?”
I faintly smiled for I was the answer. A creature snatched from his
homeland.
Thank you so much, K Rawson, for your brilliant Pegman’s Challenge! And thank you for choosing Loxton too 🙂
Just outa town, Loxton, Australia | Lee Merchant, Google Maps
Leafing through the memories
For others, Murray was just a river and those odd tracks
lining up the shores were just signs of drunkards messing about.
But for me, it had a much, much greater significance. It’s a
gesture that Gakal had not forgotten me yet.
Every time I see those large clumps of seaweed, I remember
him. Everytime I see those marks slapped by the the tails, I remember him. Oh,
Gakal why did you have to go?
They said, “He’s gone for good!”
They said “He’s a
monster!”
But to me, he was a savior. Yes, he looked ugly but he had
saved my life more than once and on his back, I had travelled all around river
Murray, and I have leaped back and forth time.
He shouldn’t have gone.
They said, they have killed him.
I don’t believe it. Dear Gakal, when will you return?
Notes:
Gakal is an aboriginal Australian word meaning “skill”
The character of this story, Gakal, is a Muldjewangk, an aboriginal mythical creature.
The main character is Alex, yes, the one about whom I wrote in last week’s challenge 🙂
Millenniums ago, I had been cursed to become a statue. And
now I think, it’s a blessing.
They had taken parts of my hands, they had forever closed my
eyes.
It’s a blessing, I say again. At least I don’t have to see
my mother Earth dying. At least I don’t have to see some of my brothers die out
of hunger and others feasting on fries. At least, I don’t have to see the pain
and disgraceful state of the world which, once was such a gracious place.
Thank you Rochelle for creating this exciting challenge ofFriday Fictioneers!
Only for Friday Fictioneers. Photo credits: Dale Rogerson
Discoveries Underneath
When I saw it for the first time, I thought it was some sort of stupid building made for show. But it was during a windy summer day when I finally discovered the secrets beneath it.
It was there, in the middle of a uncannily deserted road, burning up in the sun. I was messing up with it, trying to find the “mysteries” behind it. It was then I had found out the swirling stairs hidden beneath this structure leading to the place of highly technological place of giants. And guess what? They had giant phones and came over here at midnight to charge them!
Post Script:
I am really sorry for this stupid little tale. It’s actually a part of a larger series called “Discoveries of Jos, Far and Wide” I’m so gloomy that can’t really use my words well. Thanks for reading!
Welcome to the Friday Foto Flash Fiction Challenge! Each Friday Donna B McNicol posts a new picture to be used as inspiration for your flash fiction written in 500 words or less. Be sure to include the photo, the source credit, and a link to this post with your story. Entries will close on Thursday at midnight Central Time.
Once your post is live, add your link to the list below. I hope you will visit the other entries (and check back often for new stories). Remember to leave them a comment in appreciation. Thank you and enjoy! Here’s your photo prompt.
“Who’s put up
this stupid sign here, eh?” asked Joe.
“End of
Century, huh?” I read the odd sign post, “Maybe there’s a time machine behind.”
“You and your
stupid sci-fi stuff!” said Joe putting his hands on his hips, “Perhaps a geek like
you has set this up!”
“Whatever,” I
said, “It’s silly and odd.”
“Geez! Just the
thing you’re expecting after a long afternoon walk! Curse that man who has put
this up!” Joe spat on the ground and checked his watch, “Goodness! It’s already
4 pm and the movie starts at 6! Now where do we go, eh? Jos? A guess?”
“It’s just 3:46
pm. Your watch’s fast.”
“Wrong! Wrong!
Wrong! Both of you are wrong! It’s 15 hours 46 minutes and 32 seconds now!”
It was a high,
wavering shrill voice, much like hitting hammer in a metal can. It came from
the signpost.
I and Joe
exchanged a glance.
“Somebody has
fit some kind of recorder here,” I said, “Maybe a prankster like you, Joe.”
“You really
think so?” he said, sounding impressed. “Let’s check it out!”
He grabbed my
hand and pulled me towards the backside of the sign post. It was all very
ordinary… except a clock sitting right on top with googly eyes.
“What’s that? A
silly clock” I asked.
“Wrong! Wrong!
Wrong!” it started but Joe interrupted.
“You are wrong,
Mr. Clock! It should be dong, dong, dong!”
“I am not a
clock!” said the clock (or so I think it is), “I am a great marvellous Time-Porter
from the 22nd century.”
I let out a
small chuckle and said to Joe, “A neat hologram with a perfect sound recorder.
Nice work, I say.”
“Wrong! Wrong!
Wrong!” It shouted again, sounding seemingly angry. “I’ll show you what I can
do!”
For a few
seconds, there was an eerie, uncanny silence. And then came the ticking of
clocks, growing louder and louder every passing moment.
Suddenly came a
noise of the blast of glass. Joe’s and my watches had broken. The whole sky
echoed of ticking, as if it were thunder. It was all deafeningly loud. We
closed our eyes and pressed our ears as hard as we could.
“STOP IT!” Joe
yelled at last.
And somebody or
something who was in charge of all this drama heard it. All the noises came to
an end.
I dropped on my
knees… and slowly opened my eyes.
“What… was this?”
I stammered, though I doubt anybody would have heard that. Shock had taken my
voice away.
In front of me
were odd metallic dome shaped buildings with buzzing drones in the air. Not a
tree, not a breath of life. Just metal and metal everywhere.
“I’ve moved forward in time,” said the Time-Porter, “We have to the end of the century.”
Thank you, Karen and Josh for the What Pegman Saw challenge. Thank you for taking us to a different part of the world every time! This week we’re there in Cardenas, Cuba.
Cuba | Iván Calás. Google Maps
Changes Left Unchanged
For most people, Stone Castle was just a stone castle as the name suggested.
But for me,
it was more reverend than Jerusalem itself.
It had been
almost nine decades since I’ve been staying there. I’ve seen the seas change,
the trees change, the houses growing and the animals going.
I’ve seen
myself change with time too. My youthful face is now scared and lined and my
back is now hunched and my silver beard sweeps the ground.
But one
thing has remained unchanged, untouched and unshaken. The hole on the wall from
where the pirates once passed and from where the great reverend dragons, my
ancestors came to light up this castle.
Thank you, Donna B McNicol for hosting the Friday Foto Challenge. The picture is courtesy of Wendy G.
Courtesy of Wendy G.
A Drink For
Surprises
I stared at the flashing sign with shock.
“Hey, Jase, close your mouth, if you don’t want to
have a dish of mosquitoes.” Said Ben.
“What’s with the sign there?” I asked, trying to eat
my chicken pie.
Ben followed my gaze towards the bright, flashy sign,
saying “Eat More Beer”
Ben took a bite and said casually, “They don’t bother
about grammar here, my nerdy boy. It’d be ‘drink more beer’, we all know that.”
“Not that,” I said, “Isn’t it totally unbelievable? To
see a sign claiming eat more beer in a restaurant named ‘Teetotaller
monkey’?”
“Calm down, boy! I get your point.” Ben patted on my
back. “Let’s check out the mystery.”
I called the waiter and ordered a drink.
Five minutes later, the waiter arrived with a glass of
fizzy drink, oddly pink in colour.
It smelled quite odd too, like a strawberry fondue.
I raised my eyebrows and cautiously watched Ben take a
sip of that drink… But what I saw made me more shocked than ever.
Odd scars and patterns grew all around Ben’s faces and
tattooed arms.
“Benjamin!” I cried, but strangely no fellow diner,
not even the one sitting next table turned at us.
Ben didn’t seem to hear me either. He resumed to drink
as if the whole world had paused.
“There’s something in the drink, I say!” I shouted,
shaking Ben by his arms, “Ben?! Do you hear me?!”
Caught in a frenzy, I grabbed the drink and gulped it
down.
“What a fool am I!” I thought to myself as my vision
became blurry.
Slowly as if fogged by a pinkish mist, my eyes dragged
and closed and as if… I drifted off to a distant place.
“Jason?! Jason!”
“Uhh?” I struggled to force my eyes open. “W-Where am
I?”
I looked around cautiously around myself. There was
nothing I could remember. Everywhere where strange pinkish octopus like folks.
“Is this some kind of sci-fi movie set? Where is Ben?
Ben?” I cried, nervousness leaking in my voice.
“Calm down, Jason, I’m right here beside you.” Said a
voice that I instantly recognized.
I turned towards it and what a shock did I get! There
a tall, thick octopus-like creature wearing the same shirt like Ben.
“Is that really…you?” I stammered, my voice a barely
audible croak.
The creature nodded and said, “Look at yourself, Jase.”
Fearfully, I turned my gaze towards the glass table… And met the horror I had
been fearing.
I had turned into such a creature too. A monster like
the rest of them.
“Look at the sign,” said Ben, “The beer they asked you
to drink was a potion that turns you into one of them. We’ve already fallen in
the trap, Jason. So dear, let’s eat more beer!”
Den of Dreams 