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Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 6

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Sharp Ends Series/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

 Here we are, another week, another prompt, another part of the Sharp Ends series to tell for friday fictioneers! If you want to join, the link to Madison Wood’s page is here. This week I looked at the prompt and my mouth fell agape, how was I to fit a snowy mountain into my series, well I’ve found a way. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is always welcome. 

He shook her awake roughly, her eyes flickered open slowly, like butterfly wings readying for flight. A droplet of affection shone in his mercury, gray eyes and for a second she almost forgot where she was.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty, we’re almost there,” He growled, “Thought you might want to see the view as well.” He added, less harshly, his eyes darting about like a fish caught in a net, and indeed, he felt trapped, his phobia of flying was twirling him about its finger. She pushed him away from the window and looked out at the vanilla topped peaks, she was awed by the beautiful sight of the morning sunlight setting the mountains into a fierce white glow.

“Beautiful, ain’t it.” He whispered, she began to reply but a sudden shudder rippled through the plane like a sonic wave.

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Pain of Poignancy

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Wind howled in Alastair’s ear,  ripped at his clothes, and bit his unclad flesh. Painful darts of horizontal, wind-driven rain stabbed his uncovered skin and drenched his curly hair. The building suddenly loomed before him in the dark, reaching for the sky like a recently sprouted plant. It seemed to go forever, prevailing all odds to reach something other than Earth. Alastair knew he was up there somewhere, up amongst the clouds on the roof, he always went there to think. Alastair pulled his hood tightly on his head so that the edge hung over his face, he continued onwards, penetrating the storm, desperate to reach the building.

Inside the building offered protection from the voracious storms but it rendered no light. Alastair walked around blindly, inside the building was no different to the outside except the wind and rain didn’t attack him like wolves. In his blind attempt to find the stairs, he tripped over several times but persevered. Any pain he felt now would be nothing in comparison to the pain he’d feel if he didn’t get to Garth in time.

The stairs seemed to spiral on for centuries, Alastair was ravaged by fatigue and his calves screamed in pain but he proceeded to run on. He felt no pain, he felt nothing but desperation and a fragment of fear which sliced through his heart. Suddenly the stairs seemed to fall away and Alastair collapsed in a heap on the ground, muscles screaming, chest heaving, rain and wind pouncing on him once more. Alastair scrambled to his feet as the black fabric of the sky was ripped by a scar of lightning. A silhouette of a small, skinny figure was portrayed, standing on the edge of the building as peaceful as it had ever been.

“Garth!” Alastair yelled, but his voice was only a whisper under his panting breath and it was snatched away by the storm. Alastair ran forward, his mind in panic mode, he felt like he was running on a treadmill and wasn’t going anywhere. “Garth! Stop!” He screamed, reaching out for his brother who seemed to suddenly lose all control of his body. Alastair knew that wasn’t the case though, and as his brother fell to his death he screamed in anguish.

Everything seemed to vanish from his mind, nothing mattered, life didn’t matter, nothing but his brother mattered. Screams and sobs escaped Alastair’s lips, his sounds of despair were ripped from his body and stolen by the winds. He was carried away by hurt, pains of poignancy gripped him and dragged him into a loss of mind. The apocalyptic world didn’t care for him, didn’t notice his adversity, it cared for nothing but to heal itself.

Friday Fictioneer’s: Sharp Ends, Part 5

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Sharp Ends Series/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

 Last week I asked for a more difficult photo, and we got one, thanks Madison I sure love a challenge. If your new to Friday fictioneers, click here, to see this weeks prompt and maybe even join in. Anyway, I’m carrying on with the ‘Sharp Ends’ series, here’s part 5 hope you enjoy and remember constructive criticism in welcome!

Tinted windows repelled curious eyes, although they didn’t prevent her from seeing out. Traffic lights brought the car to a standstill, she looked outside at a local McDonald’s and saw a pair of moths flutter about freely. She wished to grow wings and fly away like the moths, but she was a captive, bound by bonds from her past and him.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, he turned around a mixture of emotions tangled in his smile, deep inside she could see he still loved her, but hurt and anger mirrored it for what she had done.

“Shut up and sit tight babe, we’ve got a long way to drive.”

Friday Fictioneer’s: Sharp Ends, Part 4

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Sharp Ends Series/ Part 1 / Part 2/ Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

 

Friday again! Here’s the link to the origin of this prompt, here. I’ve managed to find a way to put this prompt in with the series, quite easily actually. We need more difficult prompts Madison! Anyway, links to the previous and future parts are above, enjoy and remember, constructive critisism is welcome!

The barbed wire had withered but not broken from her sawing, she’d resorted to twisting the flexible material instead. He barely looked at her and when he did, a mixture of emotions from melancholy to anger danced across his facial features. Droplets of rain from the previous night dribbled off her hair languorously. In it’s wake the rain had left a stream of colours which arched across the sky like the curve an arrow travels.

He was impatient, it showed from him constantly humming a tune and pacing around her, his demeanor from the night had almost vanished. She was about to begin haggling him when the wire’s suddenly slackened and fell away. She leaped at the oppurtunity and abrupt, well-worked freedom by darting up behind him. As she moved to grab him in a head lock a siren wailed into life and she stopped dead in her tracks.

R.I.P Vale Carroll Shelby

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When I began my blog, I vowed never to write about cars on it even though they are a true passion of mine.  However, I received an email this afternoon from a friend who sent me a link to some very sad news. Vale Carroll Shelby sadly passed away on the 10th of May at the age of 89,  even though that’s quite old, it’s quite doleful to hear that a legend died.

You may be thinking at the moment, ‘Who the hell is Vale Carroll Shelby?’ or you may know who he is. Either way, his last name sort of gives him away, that is if you know what a Shelby is. In my opinion, Shelby’s are legendary cars, only truelly great Ford’s are given the title of ‘Shelby’. Such cars as the Ford Shelby Cobra, Shelby Mustangs and the Shelby GT500.

Above: Shelby Cobra

In commemoration of the great Vale Carroll Shelby, I think I may shed some history about him, his cars and his racing. Before he raced he was a chicken farmer, one day, he wore his farming overalls for his races because he didn’t have time to change. Those overalls became his trademark because he got more publicity from his overalls than his racing that day. Even when he won the Le Manns in 1959 he wore them.

From 1932 when Shelby had his first a race (A drag race) he continued to race and eventually led from drag racing to road racing. Shelby became very good at racing and when his chicken farming finished (his chooks all died from limberneck disease) he took racing on as his main career. He went on to become a well known racer and won titles such as the 24 hour Le Manns, 3 U.S.A national sport car championships, and in Bonneville salt flats set speed records (land by the way).

Above: Carroll Shelby with Shelby Mustang GT350

Carroll Shelby had heart conditions when he was at the height of his racing career, so he came to temporary halt. He decided to share his talent of automative manufactuaring and race car designing, first consulting with Chevrolet, who turned him down (how stupid of them.) After he talked with Ford who took on his ideas and created the first Shelby, the Shelby AC Cobra, or just Shelby Cobra. Shelby went on to design the Shelby mustang (see above) and the Shelby gt500 after that. He is an American and car legend and won’t be forgotten, until we start using helepods instead of cars.

Above: Ford Shelby GT500

Friday Fictioneer’s: Sharp Ends, Part 3

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Sharp Ends Series: /Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

Here is this weeks’s prompt from Madison Wood’s Friday fictioneers, found here. It is also the third part in my ‘Sharp Ends’ series, so enjoy.

 

 

 

Barbed wire bit at her wrists, it held her captive, teaching her a lesson for what she had done. Fear and guilt also held her prisoner, weighing her down like a concrete block.

He circled her like a cobra, waiting to strike with his verbal vemon. In his hand the knife glinted cruely, the moonlight made it wink nefariously. She imagined fur growing from his body as he transformed into a werewolf under the eyes of the full moon, but he didn’t.

In her hand she grasped a sharp-edged stone, sawing at her bindings, she felt a boost of confidence swell inside her as she held the weapon. Would the same confidence remain when she attacked though? Could she actually kill the man she really loved? 

Tanka- Burning Breath

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Burning Breath

Deadly red fingers

Licking it’s flammable prey,

Hot tendrils emerge.

Benightedness kindles it’s

Melody of ruination.

A force of nature,

It’s a contagious disease.

It’s unstoppable,

Natures injurious demon.

Fire, Hades of trouble.

 

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