THREE DAYS - a 100 word story

 

T

THREE  DAYS

It was three days before I dared to move. Three days sweating in the heat, three nights trying to sleep in a space not built for bodies, even one as small as mine, three days without food or drink.

 The first kick scared the hell out of me, metallic echoes ringing in my ears, but when no-one came I kicked harder, over and over, until I was free.

 I burst out into blinding sunlight – my first in God-knows-how-long – stepped over his stinking body and raided the fridge.

 Now I must find out where I live – I want my mum.

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This is my 700th blog post!! Actually I'm surprised it's not more - certainly I feel like I've been blogging for ever and a day - but the stats on my page can't be gainsaid.

Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog, which has been going for WAY longer than mine - I wonder what her score is? Also thanks to Rowena Curtin for the photo prompt. To read other interpretations of the image, go to  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and follow the Frog link.

PLEASE DON'T FORGET to leave a comment, and maybe also to check out my LIVING ROCK books on Amazon - a link to ROCK FESTIVAL, the fourth and final book in the series is at the top of this page.

MOVING HOME - a story in only one hundred words.

 

MOVING HOME

 Archie wouldn’t let me put him down – not surprising with all the upheaval – and I managed one-handed till Dad needed help with the sofa.

I thought his high-chair would be the safest place, and I was only gone a minute, two at the most, but when we came down Archie had gone.

 I knew who’d taken him – the bastard must have been watching us, waiting for his chance to snatch him.

 It was three days before he called, and I could hear Archie in the background. “My mother already loves him,” he said, “You won’t hear from us again.”

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Thanks to Roger Bultot for this photograph which instantly prompted a story, but Other Life in the shape of a friend for lunch got in the way and I've only just got round to writing it. I was briefly tempted to write a different story, as the pile of rubbish is reminiscent of the state my garden has been in this week while a new kitchen was installed, but I resisted the temptation to burden you with my life story!

What I will do is ask you to buy my latest book by clicking on the link at the top of this page. ROCK FESTIVAL is the fourth and final book in my Living Rock series - the first three books, A VOLCANIC RACE, WOLF PACK & LANDSLIDE are also available on Amazon. The series is a fantasy - not everyone's cup of tea, I know - but Rochelle has read them and enjoyed them, so they must be worth a try! 😊

SPARROW REMEMBERS

SPARROW REMEMBERS

Stolen from her bed in the cold white darkness of a Canadian winter, Sparrow’s last sight of home was the sun rising beyond the grain silo beside her house.

Instead of attending school, she chopped wood, broke ice for water in winter, suffered mosquito swarms in summer, and endured nights under a stinking blanket with her captor.

She was thirteen when another little girl appeared – then she remembered that image.

With the child on her back she trudged east, scavenging for food, hiding from strangers, focussed only on one thing – the vision of sunrise over her parents’ farm.
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Dawn Miller's photograph may well have been taken in Canada - it reminds me of the country around my son's home in Ontario, where he lives with his Canadian wife and two small daughters. So my mind instantly put together Canada, little girls, and the photo's focus to create my story.
You can read what other writers made of the image by following links from Rochelle's blog.  https://rochellewisoff.com/