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Picture It & Write: Golden Times

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My Contribution for this week’s Picture It & Write, click here to see, is below. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome as always.

 

 

 

 

 

They were the good old days, memories from that time are lathered in gold because they are my golden memories from a golden age. Back then when time was irrelevant, we felt like we had all the time in the world to share our special bond. Time didn’t matter to us hence why it spilled between our fingers and represented itself in occasional grey hairs which spouted amongst our normal young dark hair. We pretended it didn’t exist, we shoved it into the back of the closet and left it there, a ghost which sat and waited until the right time to come out and torment us.

By the time we realised it was real and it was there, we were too late, we’d let in stalk us in silence like a lion waiting to pounce. Time had separated us, it had torn the fake immortal chain which linked us, which we thought had been unbreakable. The chain had been broken and used to hold a pendant watch, a reminder he’d given to me before he’d left, that time was there and it was impossible to stop. He’d placed time in a cache of gold, to remind me of the golden days and that time was alway there, always watching your every move and counting down your final moments.

Friday Fictioneer: Slave Bones, Part 5

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Slave Bones:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 /

This is a tricky one for me trying to fit it into the slave bones series. The link to the prompt is here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

 

 

Rordan glanced about anxiously, suppressing the urge to awaken the guards at the sight of an unknown figure in the distance which created no threat for the time being. He scanned the dark horizon once more, it was incredibly hard to penetrate the blackness of the night’s shadowy blanket, this time he couldn’t see the figure. Fatigue played tricks with your mind, it brought up premonitory images and cast hallucinations of the unwanted or most wanted.

A strange gurgling howl rippled through the night, the howl of a Gunkiar. Rordan was overcome by trembling, he whimpered for a guard but his voice had been snatched by fear. Suddenly two white eyes blinked in the near distance, like two polished shells laying side by side on a black sand beach. They were pupil-less eyes, sparkling like sunshine spangled water, they disappeared and the squishy shuffling of a Gunkiar’s movements followed.