Friday Fictioneers: Sharp Ends, Part 8


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

Whew, this week’s prompt doesn’t seem too hard. If you want to join friday fictioneers, great! Click here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.



It was definite, the plane was crashing, they were falling to their death and yet she felt at ease, almost happy. Out the window, she could see the engine had turned into a raging ball of fire, smoke billowing from it like ash from a volcano. The fire seethed like a living creature, bringing down its prey, he lunged for her hand and began begging, she was ignorant to him though.

“Brace for impact!” The speaker’s blared, she kicked him away and cowered beneath her arms, waiting for relief from her guilt. Suddenly the plane collided with earth, the immense pressure knocking her from her seat, she began rolling and crashing about. She blacked out for a second before regaining consciousness as the plane skidded to a halt. She looked up, shaking all over, the cockpit of the plane had disappeared, revealing a forest which nestled beneath the mountains they had recently flown over.


Secrets locked in ice


White mountain peaks licked the crimson red sky, and the fiery yellow glare of the sun made the snow coated mountains sparkle like magnesium set alight. Deep scars crisscrossed the mountains, created by milleniums of erosion, landslides, and other natural bullies that teared the mountains. As the sun began it’s final milestone in it’s journey across the sky, it covered the mountainous region in a warm, orange glowing blanket. Slowly the sun sinks out of sight, and the moon begins to take it’s place as the stars appear in the bruised, purple sky. As the sun’s final light dies, the sky turns black like the depth of the deepest sea, and the stars come out of hiding as their leader; the moon, takes it’s place on the podium in the night sky. The moon is bright and bulging, it leaks magnificent, silver light onto the mountains, it is their nightlight, protecting the mountains and it’s inhabitants, from the predator; the night. The mountains lie still and quiet, they are sleeping, their radiant, snowy glow is turned off like a lamp. These mountains that sleep, hold the secrets of their people, the secrets that are locked in their bones of ice. Deep within the mountains, kept in the cache of the mountains ribs, is the heart of the mountains and it’s people. It is was keeps the mountains alive, it is what the people gave the mountain, it is what they sacrificed themselves for. The beating, thumping, pumping heart is the peoples’ secrets, it is the peoples death and the mountains life, it is the secrets locked in ice.

By Sphrbn