THE GAZING PURSUIT

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend

(PHOTO CREDIT: Nathan Sowers)

Staggering out the cabin, drenched in sweat and blood, she took huge puffs of breath. Heaving and gasping for fresh air, she felt the welts and abrasions on her neck with her bloodied hands.

The handle of the knife which she had employed to save herself from the clutches of her psychotic husband had created deep indentations on her bruised palm. Turning back to make sure that neither he nor his now probably active apparition was pursuing her, she hastened her way through the grassy path.

She accidentally knocked down a mirror from a picnic table reflecting the ill fated cabin.

(WORD COUNT: 100)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

The credit for the breathtaking photograph goes to Nathan Sowers 

THE PILGRIM

Pilgrim john-brand

(PHOTO CREDIT: JOHN BRAND)

First you need to come down the rolling meadows. The lush greenery enveloping you will be, to put it mildly – enchantingly distracting. But don’t worry too much as the scenery will grow into you. The chances of you crossing paths with a fellow pilgrim are exponentially remote. Relics attract neither cause nor consequence these days. In an era where Facebook smothers facts and selflessness is sacrificed at the altar of selfies, the urgent and pre-occupied world has neither time for tributes nor patience for tolerance.

Ok enough of this mindless muttering. You are nearing your destination. The solitary house which is a latticework of roughly hewn stones and tiles that have experienced the raw wrath of nature stands guard like a solitary soldier. The one remaining dusty window neither facilitates an inward peep nor an outward glance.

To the right of this house, dear pilgrim stands the noble monument in the form of a single small blue barn door with a grassy architecture adorning it as a roof. The place where an unknown soldier dived on a grenade blowing himself to smithereens so that his brothers could live!

The only thing left of him was a Cross.

(Word Count: 198)

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit HERE.

To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.