The weary soldiers marched into the night with quickly-fashioned torches to illuminate their way. The thick forest shrouded them in darkness, stealing rays of moonlight from their path. Their trip was a solemn one, fraught with fear and danger, but they trudged onward.
The victory of the previous day’s battle still fresh in their mind did little to comfort the men as they carried their leader home. He who had slain the evil wizard as darkness fell, saving his kingdom and people from slavery. Yet, he had sacrificed his own safety, and when the daylight returned, the king was dead.
Free-writing: to accept the 100-word challenge, visit Julia’s Place website.
Prompt: …when the daylight returned the king was dead…: https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/03/23/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week172/
Gage swung opened the door and peered inside. The musty smell struck him, then the dust dancing in the sunlight pouring in the window. The frolicking particles indicated his victim had run this way.
Stepping deeper into the shed, he noticed an open back door. “Damn,” he cursed. Lumbering forward, his plaid jacket caught on a vice secured to a thick wooden workbench. He yanked it free.
From behind, he felt a heavy thud. His vision blurred as he dropped to the floor, landing in a soft mound of rodent droppings. The scent was overpowering, and he sank into unconsciousness.
Free-writing to accept the 100-word challenge from Julia’s Place website
When I was young and snow covered the ground, I walked into the woods and listened. The stillness fascinated me. It was as if the world had stopped, as if I were the only one walking Earth.
Is there night when snow is upon the ground? Is there darkness? I don’t ever recall it being too dark to explore. It seemed as though the snow lit the forest and provided enough light to mark my way.
It had been a glorious August day in 1990. I had set out in my twelve-foot row boat around noon. The sun was shining and the water was placid. As usual I was alone, settled in the centre seat with my fingers wrapped around the blue oars. My boom-box sat on the seat in the stern on top of a sweatshirt and towel and beside my sneakers.
Most of the time I sailed barefoot. I loved the feeling of cool wood and salt water on my skin. I could climb in and out of the boat, walking through knee-deep surf, without worrying about wetting my rubbers.
Rubbers…I don’t recall owning a pair back then. I either went barefoot or wore my ocean sneakers. These were old sneakers I wore without socks to places I couldn’t go barefoot.
Cindy Fletcher rocked back and forth with the rhythm of the boat. She kept telling herself she knew where she was, but her inner voice wouldn’t listen; it knew she was lost. She pulled her hoodie around her and peered into the thick, white fog. It had consumed the row boat within minutes, erasing the shoreline and casting Cindy and her childhood friend, Michelle Purdy, into a cloud-like world.
The fog had devoured every sound save the oars striking the water. Michelle rowed in the direction both believed would take them to the wharf where they had rented the boat. In thirty minutes, it would be Cindy’s turn to row again. It would also be 7:00 pm, marking the fourth hour in the fog.
Destiny Governed their Lives is a short story starring Catriona Wheatcroft, the sorceress in Shadows in the Stone fantasy novel. When the novel begins, she’s twenty-eight years old, but in the short story, she’s only seventeen.
Catriona is young, impulsive and believes she knows everything. Mmm, sounds a little like me when I was seventeen. I wasn’t, however, an apprentice studying with a sorceress who practised powerful spells. I also didn’t live in Maskil with the constant threat of an evil wizard creating terror on the streets. If I had, I might have done the unthinkable, too.
I love tea. It’s one—no, it is—my most favourite drink in the world. I like rum, cranberry juice, gin and wine, but I love tea. I love it so much that if I couldn’t make a good cup where I lived or have one shipped in, I’d move. I think I might survive a week—maybe seven days—without tea if I had one of my other likable drinks or hot chocolate, but that’s pushing it.
Coffee doesn’t factor into the equation.
Tea drinkers—I’ve found—are often in search of two best things: the best type of tea and the best vessel in which to drink it from.