In Fiction on December 4, 2013 at 2:39 pm
A Place to Rest
The whitewashed walls of the old mission emerged from the mist, slow and shy like a wary ghost. It was boarded and broken, abandoned by man and god alike.
“Suits me,” Dan grumbled. Three days in the hot sun had just about baked his brains, and death had seemed near enough, until the fog rolled in and pocked his skin with dots of dew. Half a day of blind shambling later, the desert brought him here.
Unless he’d died. Unless this was heaven, and the rolling mist the veil.
A bell rang softly inside, and a light came on.
In Fiction on November 25, 2013 at 11:14 am
As I wheeled through the streets of Luxor in the bullet-eaten Mahindra—my brother covered in blood and brooding like a lunatic—the crowds stared but kept their distance. At the hotel, I parked down an alley and walked my brother through the back.
“Stay here,” I said, opening the door to my room and nudging him inside. I limped down to the front desk to find Panya hiding behind the office door.
“Father has gone out, Dr. Rosen,” she said meekly.
“That’s alright; you can help me.”
The girl gripped the door like a shield, her thick eyebrows working. She was Oxford educated, and smarter than her father by half, but she was also extraordinarily traditional. It was improper for a man to speak to her alone.
“I’m hurt, Panya,” I said. I held up my bloody hands for her to see. “Please.”
In Fiction on November 22, 2013 at 9:55 am
Knock, Knock, Knock
You knock, your heart a nervous bird, flapping. A chill wind sighs.
You knock. What sound is that? Claws scrabbling. Whispers.
It’s been years…
You knock, and the door swings wide—to warmth.
This is my short response to this week’s Trifextra challenge – where we were given the freedom to choose our own word to use three times in a 33-word story. If it’s not clear enough, the word I chose was knock.
Let me know what you think and check out some of the other stories over at Trifecta. They’re short, so they won’t take long!