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Friday Fictioneers

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Copyright -Claire Fuller

Hi again, I don’t think I’ve posted in almost half a year but I’m back, although I can’t promise I’ll stay, being so busy with exams coming up and all. Here’s something I whipped up for Friday Fictioneer’s, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. I haven’t written anything good in months, my pathetic excuse is writers block but I’m trying to beat it. Anyway, here it is, constructive criticism wanted and I hope you enjoy.

                                                                                                                                                        

It has been a while. For months I’ve passed this place and looked away, afraid to see the noose hanging from the tree. It’s gnarled knots and thick twisted branches, we used to climb across them and pretend we were monkeys’, or elves, or spies, giggling with glee, oblivious to all else.

So many memories, so much pain. I still remember our first kiss round the back, how we’d clambered onto the church roof, how once I broke my arm. I remember playing hide and seek, the last time I’d found him, hanging with a noose around his neck.

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Friday Fictioneers: Slave Bones, Part 4

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Slaves Bones: / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 /

Friday fictioneers again, it feels so long since I have contributed because I missed last week 😦 . Anyway, I saw the photo this week and couldn’t help recoiling in sudden disgust, why on Earth would you frighten us with such a picture Madison? Haha. This week I am continuing with the slave bones series, which I am actually writing as a draft novel at the moment. Now, onwards and upward, I hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

 

Night had nestled upon the desert, Rordan leaned against the crumbling brick of the building, peering out a gap into the endless darkness. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, pulling him into sleep which was so tantalising. He couldn’t be seduced by the beauty of sleep though, Gunkiar roamed the desert at night when the temperature dropped and the sun didn’t reign, and Rordan was on watch.

Rordan had been in the shackles of slavery for over a year, he’d encountered many of the desert dwellers but only twice had he felt the squirm of disgust from setting eyes on a Gunkiar. The wind moaned in his ears, it swirled up columns of sand, dyed black by the lack of light. Rordan’s eyelids drooped, sleep was slowly luring him in, he snapped them open and caught sight of a figure in the corner of his eye. His stomach clenched at the memory of the yellow pulsating creature which exuded frothy white poison and glistened with a sheen of sticky, sand speckled liquid, was it a Gunkiar?

Picture It & Write: Clicking Predators

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I missed Friday Fictioneer’s this week so am determined to complete a piece for Picture It & Write. The link for that is here. This week I have written something that could become part of my novel. It’s also a POV from another character in my Friday Fictioneer’s series. So enjoy and remember constructive criticism is welcome.

Eels of heat swam ahead on the shimmering horizon, causing mischief with her mind. Bodies of swirling, carmine dust danced upon the stage that was the desert. Teza brushed the grit from her eyes which peered out from behind her scarf, grey slits of steel scanning the devious horizon. The blazing sun was forever sprinkling an endless rain of heat onto her unclad skin which gleamed with a sheen of perspiration.

Behind her the city lay, the Fire Capitol as it had become known after King Lochlan’s death. Teza’s ‘death’ lay back there also, in attempt to escape her pursuers she had forged her death and run into a desert, it had been a plausible plan at the time. Now Teza doubted whether she’d last the first night, already the desert heat had wilted her spirit and her encounter with the city’s outskirt guards had left her slightly battered.

In the swirling haze of the distance she caught a glimpse of four figures. A blinding knife of light pierced her eye and when she looked back they were gone. Teza stopped in her tracks at a sudden clicking noise, she looked back and already the shifting red sands where coating her footprints, leaving no trace of her journey. Behind her she heard the ominous clicking of pincers and the horror stories of the desert’s cruelest predators came rushing back from her memory.

Picture It & Write: The Reflection

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This week’s Picture It & Write can be found here. I enjoy this new group and seem to get a good lot of hits out of it, so thank you Ermilia. Hope you all enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

Soft piano giggle echoed through the corridor, light tapping and the occasional swish of a dress also accompanied the sound. Dane trekked silently down the hall, as quiet as the fall of a feather, ancient sheets of dust lay on the floor and sprung to life with each footstep. He came upon a door, paper birch white with a prominent brass handle protruding from it, beckoning Dane to open.

Slowly he turned the handle, it creaked from years of being untouched, its echo filled with relief. Dane pushed against the door and looked inside, crumbling brick like a cake, fell away leaving a trail of dust cascading after it caught in the eerie light of the full moon outside. As he looked in he caught the shimmer of a figure, seemingly disappear like a hologram, a sweet young giggle stroked his ears and sent an abnormal shiver through his body.

The only feature in the room was a large mirror leaning against the back wall as though tired with waiting. Dane crept towards it and brushed away century old dust, revealing intricate patterns engraved in the brass of the frame. He glanced down at the mirror which not only reflected his image but a petite young girl behind him, dressed in a swam white dress which shimmered with purity. Dane yelped in fright as the girls face transformed and a sudden boiling talon of evil engulfed him.

Friday Fictioneers: Slave Bones, Part 2

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Slave Bones Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /

Another week and my stats seem to be dropping, oh well they will hopefully pick up soon as I introduce my new series for friday fictioneers; Slave Bones. The link to friday fiction prompt is here. Part 2 is below, hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome as always.

 

As the sun completed its final milestone of its day, so too did the slaves. The next camp lay crumbling before them, a stone shack that Rordan couldn’t help thinking, depicted his current life style. Not that his previous one had been any better, he’d lived in squalor beneath the city, trying to avoid the wrath of the Ignis people like many people did. All his life the Ignis people had been an incessant threat to him, since the reign of King Corinth had died, so too had the respect between Ignis and Aluction people.

A single skeleton of a black barked tree stood in solace before the building, a buzzard sentry stood guard on it. It screeched at the slaves as they passed, like it too shared a passionate hatred for them. Everyone and everything Rordan had met, treated him with enmity which always curdled his Aluction blood and rattled his slave bones.

Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 10

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Sharp Ends Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 /

As soon as I saw this prompt I knew what to write. The link to Madison Wood’s website where friday fictioneers is done, is here. Constructive criticism is welcome, I hope you enjoy.

 

 

Her emotional dam collapsed then, her thoughts and emotions spilling out like a waterfall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry David! Because of you we were drowning in debt and you were drowning yourself in alcohol. I was angry at you and confused and he was just there, your brother helped me, cared for me and loved me, and then he left, and pretended it had never happened!” She cried, her guilt had its jaws tightly latched to her and was now tearing at her, spilling her blood.

She sobbed, tears and emotions saturating her, and then he was there, the man she had fallen in love with was holding her and helping her. She suddenly stopped and looked at him, in his abrasive palm was a collection of red berries.

“We eat these and we’ll never have to worry again.” David leaned forward and whispered softly.

Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 9

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Sharp Ends Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 /

I remember this photo from Madison’s old blog, great photo. Last week I was kind of slack with checking my blog, I’ve had so much homework though. Anyway, the link to Madison Wood’s blog is here. Constructive criticism is welcome, hope you enjoy.

She staggered to her feet, looked about and screamed. She beat her fist against the side of the planes in frustration.

“Why aren’t I dead!” She repeated over and over until she slumped down in a softly upholstered seat. A moan rippled through the sudden silence, she crept towards the sound and saw him unconscious in a mangled heap on the ground. She inspected him for wounds and found he had a nasty gash in his forehead. She jumped up and began dragging him towards the sound of water, which wasn’t far away.

Once at the small creek she cleaned his gash and sat peacefully, watching as a dragonfly skimmed across the water as majestically as a ballerina.

“Why did you kill my brother?” He suddenly asked, his voice slurred and almost incoherent, she jumped at the sudden sound of his voice.

“Because he cheated on me.” She whispered.

“Ha! Karma’s a b***h isn’t it babe.”

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