Friday, 5 lines or less…


Image by Céline Martin from Pixabay 

society demands he bow to destiny –
he knows what awaits him
but he does not resign himself to it
for he knows that is
ONE possibility

If you are interested, the prompt is linked below.

Using the word destiny
Write a story or poem of 5 Lines or Less
Link back to this post

If you are on WordPress this will create a pingback.
If you are not on WordPress put a link to your post in the comments.
You can also post your story or poem in the comments.

Prompt: Friday, 5 lines or less…


Young Minds of Medium

The challenge is here!

A Cornered Gurl

I am posting this here since it is the first challenge of the year. I will also post the last challenge of the year via ACG on WordPress as well.

snohaalegraSnoh Aalegra

Young Minds of Medium

What Is Your Favorite Song & How Does It Inspire You?

This is a call for submissions and also your first challenge for the year 2020. Young Minds of Medium — this is your challenge. I am looking for work from the young writers here on Medium, ages 15–25. Submissions will be reviewed and posted on Mondays and Fridays during the month of February. I want to hear from you. I want to feel, connect with, and fall in love with the words you would like to share with the world. THIS IS YOUR STAGE, PERFORM BRILLIANTLY!

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #64


“We are going to die!” They screamed when the structure came down. Then the second one, the third one, until six structures appeared.

But they did not.

The worst part, however, was the constant pounding. For days on end, there was non-stop pounding. Dust flew and the earth turned. They scurried around even as they tried to maintain a semblance of normal life.

When it was all done, their home was surrounded by the structures. They were trapped!

As one unit though, they had already formed a contingency plan; they had started shifting their home.

The ants were resilient in that manner.

(102 words)

If you are interested, the prompt is linked below.

Here’s how it works:

Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.)
You respond with something CREATIVE

Here are some suggestions:

  • An answering photo
  • A cartoon
  • A joke
  • A caption
  • An anecdote
  • A short story (flash fiction)
  • A poem
  • A newly minted proverb, adage or saying
  • An essay
  • A song—the lyrics or the performance

You have plenty of scope and only two criteria:

  • Your creative offering is indeed yours
  • Your writing is kept to 150 words or less

If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it
If you include Crimson’s Creative Challenge as a heading, WP Search will find it (theory)
by ‘Searching’ in the WP Reader (fingers crossed)

Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN.

Prompt: Crimson’s Creative Challenge #64


Photo by Daria Shevtsova from Pexels

“Neither the ferryman [Kharon (Charon)] nor the comrade [the Hydra] of the cruel beast [Kerberos (Cerberus)] bars the way [to the Underworld] to innocent souls.” —Statius, Silvae 2. 1. 228 ff

As usual, the woman went up to the edge of the cliff and looked out into the sea.

“I’ll be back soon,” her husband had promised. “One last trip and we’ll have enough to open that bakery you always dreamt of.” He laid his hand on her belly bump. “This little one won’t have to worry about money like we did.”

She smiled and laid her hand on top of his as they caressed her belly bump together in anticipation of their baby’s arrival.

That was five months ago.

He was supposed to be back after three months. He promised. So for the past two months, she had been climbing up that cliff behind their village and staring into the horizon, awaiting her lover’s return. Even when she grew bigger and her movements became awkward, she persevered.

While she was looking out into the sea for the ship her husband was on, she overlooked her village’s kindness; a message arrived one month after her husband had left - the ship he had boarded sank.

There were no survivors.

The villagers held council - worried that she would not accept such a blow given her condition, they told her that the day she heard the horn of the ship was the day her husband would return. They gave her a ghostly hope and kept the nightmare at bay. They decided to take care of her on her husband’s behalf - the kindness of the close-knit community.

They kept the secret and she kept watch for a ship which would never return.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months and months, years. The woman carried the baby for as long as it would stay under her heart, then in her arms after she gave birth to a healthy girl.

Both the mother and daughter kept vigil on the cliff. Still, the promised ship did not appear. And this continued until the daughter was nine years of age. One day, they stopped climbing the cliff; instead, the woman went around the village, buying dried goods and provisions.

Everyone in the village was puzzled but no one said a thing. They continued to keep the secret. “Maybe she’s finally moved on,” everyone thought. It took one nosey fishwife to find out the woman’s business.

“She said she saw the ship! And her husband rowed out in a boat to meet her!” the fishwife revealed. “She even said he is bringing her on a voyage tonight!”

The villagers heard a ghostly horn of a ship and rushed to her cottage immediately. But they were too late; she was already gone.

Only her daughter remained.

“Ma went on a trip with Pa,” the daughter explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “They said I’m too young to follow them to where they are going. But they will come back for me when I’m old enough!”

Shaken, the villagers bore the daughter away from the cottage. The villagers held council again and decided to tell her that the day she heard the horn of the ship was the day her parents would return. The villagers cared for her just as they cared for her mother - the kindness of the close-knit community.

The ship did not return and they heard no more of the mother.

The daughter grew up to be a beautiful woman, her gracefulness and kindness captivating the young son of the village head. They got married and she eventually had her own daughter as well. She and her husband did not go back to her mother’s cottage; they had a cottage near a river instead.

But old habits die hard.

The daughter would stand by the river, holding her child with a distant look in her eyes as she stared as far down the river as she could see. Her husband said nothing. He had heard the story from his father and thought it was her way of mourning.

He did not know the secret, for it was still well kept among the village elders.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months and months, years. The daughter grew older as promised while her girl grew up at the river, learning to keep herself entertained by skipping stones as her mother stood on the river bank. Then they would go home and the daughter would prepare a meal for her girl and husband.

This continued every day for as far as the little girl could remember.

Until the day when the daughter’s girl reached nine years of age. The older villagers heard the ghostly horn of the ship. Distant memories stirred in their minds and they panicked. They had a hand in raising the daughter and had grown fond of her. They quickly got hold of the daughter’s husband and rushed to the cottage, much to his confusion.

The younger generation vaguely remembered their elders’ similar hysteria and they followed eagerly this time, finally able to witness the commotion. They were disappointed, for only the little girl was sitting placidly at the table in the cottage, eating her porridge.

The daughter was not around.

The little girl was surprised at the crowd and mildly irritated when her dinner was interrupted. Under her father and the older villagers’ frantic prompting, the little girl revealed what had happened.

Her words chilled everyone.

“Ma went on a trip with Grandma and Grandpa. They said I’m too young to follow them to where they are going. But they will come back for me when I’m old enough!”
They heard no more of the daughter too.

The father was heartbroken at his wife’s disappearance. Despite his insistent pleas to understand what had transpired and their prescient warning, the older generation of villagers refused to reveal their knowledge, still bound by their oath of keeping the secret. And now, horror.

The little girl who was left behind by her mother and grandmother grew up and had her own baby girl too. The long kept secret finally turned into a true secret, as her father and her husband had no idea what would happen. When the baby girl turned nine years of age, the ghostly horn of the ship sounded again.

Memories stirred but everyone was still too late.

The disappearance was inevitable.

The ship would come.


Originally published here. This is a free link to the post on Medium.

I published this story a while back. But apparently, Medium hates this story. There are not many readers and it got buried so I am posting it here.

I personally like this story. Charon is possibly one of the most, if not the most, silenced character in Greek mythology. His job is to ferry souls across River Styx as long as he receives the payment in the form of a gold coin.

When I first read about him, I wonder who he is, what his backstory is and why he wants payment of a gold coin for every soul he ferries.

This is the result of that.

I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it.

Three Line Tales, Week 209

three line tales, week 209: a guy spinning a basket ball on his finger with Pokemon in the background

photo by Bannon Morrissy via Unsplash

Everyone thought the young man working in the amusement arcade was an incompetent high school dropout because of his permed hair, his extensive tattoos and his nonchalant attitude.

Especially when he tossed the spinning basketball backwards into the hoops without looking and scored a point.

No one would believe he was a double degree postgraduate from Dartmouth filling up his time doing odd jobs while waiting for his European visa to be processed so he could join the archaeological team in Greece, who were eagerly waiting for his expertise.

If you are interested, the prompt is linked below.

You’ll find full guidelines on the TLT page – here’s the tl;dr:

  • Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt (& give them a title if possible).
  • Link back to this post (& check the link shows up under the weekly post).
  • Tag your post with 3LineTales (so everyone can find you in the Reader).
  • Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
  • Have fun.

Prompt: Three Line Tales, Week 209

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #51


Cottonbro at

It was his tenth anniversary. Ten years since her husband died from an unexplained gunshot.

Janice stared fondly at the negatives of her and her husband that fateful day. They were having a picnic with a few of their friends when her husband, out of sheer mischief, decided to force feed her a dish she hated – sashimi. One of their friends, Dennise, was an avid photographer and she thought it would make a memorable photograph.

She whipped out her SLR camera and took eight burst photos of Janice’s husband chasing after Janice. The first seven were Janice escaping from her husband’s outstretch hand holding the sashimi with chopsticks. The eighth was him falling forward without warning, right in front of Dennise’s camera.

Everyone were laughing at his antics and Janice’s helpless screams of “Get away from me!”. At first, they thought he had tripped over himself – he had a knack of tripping over flat surfaces – and they laughed even harder at his awkward fall to realise something was wrong. By the time they realised there was too much blood from a simple fall and he was not moving at all, he had stopped breathing. There was a nasty exit wound on his chest.

Tears immediately welled in Janice’s eyes and she put the negatives away. The police never found the murderer and Janice still did not understand why anyone wanted to kill her husband. The police did not have any suspect at all – both Janice and her husband were just an average couple and well liked by neighbours as well as colleagues. The only suspicion they had was, the murderer had used a silencer.

The series of photographs would only serve to remind Janice what she would never have so the photographs were never developed. Dennise still passed the negatives to Janice, in case she changed her mind one day.

If only Janice decided to develop the photographs, it would reveal, at the far right of the photograph, a woman firing a gun. Not at Janice’s husband, but at Dennise, for having an extra-marital affair with her husband.

If you are interested, the prompt is linked below.

Welcome to “Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.” Each week I will be posting a photo I grab off the internet and challenge bloggers to write a flash fiction piece or poem inspired by the photo. There are no style or word limits.

For the visually challenged writer, the photo shows a woman holding up to the light and looking at a strip of film negatives that seems to show images of two people outdoors.

If this week’s image inspires you and you wish to participate, please write your post, use the tag #FFFC, and link back to this post. I hope it will generate some great posts.

Thanks to all of you who have participated in these challenges so far. Your posts have been very creative. Please take a few minutes to read the other responses to this photo challenge.

Please create a pingback to this post or manually add your link in the comments.

Prompt: Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #51

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

adult blur bouquet boy

Photo by Pixabay on

He told her that her feelings reached his heart and tugged his heartstrings, that he had never been so moved before.

All the promises he made to her under the moon.

So she decided they should fulfill those promises he made when she discovered the kind of person he was after a few months.

She reached for his heart and tore it out before moving his corpse to the edge of the mountain and threw it off.

He was right.

He would die before he could hurt her feelings and she made sure of that when she found him cheating on her with her best friend.

If you are interested, the prompt is linked below.

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Come back here on Thursday, link your post…
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers 🙂


Prompt: Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

Saturday Six Word Story Prompt (6WSP) #20 – January 11, 2020

happy child fun boy

Photo by Pixabay on

laugh – life is the biggest joy

If you are interested, the prompt is linked below.

Welcome to Week #20 of the Saturday Six Word Story Prompt. Click here to read the guidelines for the Saturday Six Word Story Prompt series.

Prompt for Week #20 (January 11, 2020 – January 17, 2020)


Click here for the 6WSP image.

I will do a roundup post each Friday. So please be sure to participate before time runs out!

I can’t wait to read your stories. 😀 I hope that you’ll be back for next week’s Six Word Story Prompt. 🙂

Have fun! Thank you for participating. Until next week, folks!

Prompt: Saturday Six Word Story Prompt (6WSP) #20 – January 11, 2020

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #47


Clear blue skies greeted our family of four, as they piled into the family car and began their journey to their holiday spot. The drive was long and when they reached the bridge connecting their town on one side to another town on the other side, the traffic was horrid. Everyone was honking but nothing was moving.

There it was, our family was stuck on the bridge. The mother was shouting over the radio and their two-year-old boy’s crying, while their ten-year-old daughter was complaining about everything, from how hot the car was to how she wanted to be with her friends instead of going on a holiday trip. The father stared moodily out the window, wishing for something – anything – to end this nightmare.

The sky became darker without warning and everyone, out of curiosity, looked out the window. What looked like a dark cloud was fast approaching the bridge. Against the wind.

Everyone started screaming.

A giant foot had appeared of nowhere toward the bridge!

The father knew he should run but out of morbid fascination, stayed where he was and stared while the mother was screaming and shaking him. The giant foot landed precisely where their car was, flattening countless other cars and destroying the bridge at the same time. Then the giant foot lifted and came down on the same spot. Again, and again.

And again…

“No,” the mother narrowed her eyes at her son. He showed her his toy cars and pieces of his Lego. “I’m not going to buy you new toy cars and Lego. I don’t know what you were thinking but I saw you stomping on them!”

The little boy scrunched up his face, about to cry. Perhaps he should have thought through his story more thoroughly…

Thus, the tragedy ends!

(300 words)

If you are interested, the prompt is linked below.

Welcome to “Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.” Each week I will be posting a photo I grab off the internet and challenge bloggers to write a relatively short flash fiction piece inspired by the photo. While there are no definitive style or word limits, I suggest trying to keep your posts to under 300 words.

For the visually challenged writer, the image shows a two lane bridge spanning two mountains along a coastal road high above a deep gorge or inlet.

I hope this week’s image will generate some great posts. If it inspires you and you wish to participate, please write your post, use the tag #FFFC, and link back to this post.

Thanks to all of you who have participated in these challenges so far. Your posts have been very creative. Please take a few minutes to read the other responses to this photo challenge.

Prompt: Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #47