A Six Sentence Story for this week’s prompt at Tuesday Scribes.
Danni went to Woodstock.
“Far out, man,” she said aloud to herself when she spotted the crowds milling in the mud below.
Telling her to stay away from the brown acid was like dangling a carrot.
You might as well have said, “do not press ‘this’ button” when you sit said button down in front of her.
Three days later, she remembered nothing except the clock.
She would always have the clock.
A Haibun for this week’s prompt at Tuesday Scribes.
“It’s a lovely little town, these days, but it wasn’t always so. They used to have a haunting problem. Every night, at about midnight, the High Street would fill with phantoms and spirits. They’d overrun the town till dawn, wreaking havoc, causing mayhem. Residents stayed inside, doors locked, sashes shut tight, curtains drawn. Few were brave enough to venture outdoors and those that did – usually didn’t return.
“The population dwindled till there was more spectres out at night than was good folk during the day. The village, like to’ve died. It’s coming back these days.”
There’s a churchyard that’s
by the bridge, o’er the river.
The gate’s kept locked now.
A mini saga (50 words) for this week’s prompt at Tuesday Scribes.
Mercier kneeled, surveying the scene.
Presently… “It’s clear what’s happened, Addington,” he addressed his assistant.
“Obviously, Wilberforce was perched on the wall, enjoying a cuppa and reading the Times. He angered the wrong fire god.” Rising to his feet and with a flourish of his cape Mercier added, “And exploded.”