Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 2nd 2018

 “She couldn’t stop laughing, not after the words that had just arbitrarily slipped from her mouth, and especially not with him laughing as well. ”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU.)

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

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More Than Hours: A Short Story

He stumbled through the darkness, the light at his back forcing everything into angrier shadows that toyed with his perception. His fingers curved and clawed at nothing as if to anchor himself to where he was.

Where was he? He felt as if he’d been in a terrible accident like his body had been jettisoned, head-first through plate glass, accept there was no road nearby, no sound of distress from on-lookers who’d had the misfortune of watching him play with death.

No. He was alone, disoriented and meandering through dark woods with the brightest of light ebbing down into a dim glow around him. He stopped and gulped at air, wishing it was water. How he thirsted. His heart thrumming an erratic tattoo in his chest, he lifted his eyes upward and glanced through the canopy of the trees.

Dark foliage and branches like skeletal fingers wove above him, yielding very little ground to the setting sun above. It was dusk here. Here, not where he’d been only moments ago.

He’d stepped through time. How much time…he didn’t know. He felt his chest tense as his lungs fought to take in air. His fingers clumsily met with the cold metal of a ticking clock dangling from around his neck.

The Ministry of Time, but not the sanctioned ministry, he was of Ionic, a covenant far more complex than any the ministry had known of.

With careful fingers, he pried open the clocks face saw the numbers and the arms and knew their pointing and telling was more than that of hours. The year was 1936.

“1936,” the words were dry on his tongue. Still, a tinge of hope rolled through him like a wave against the shoreline. He wasn’t very close to his true timeline. But he was indeed closer.

You will never see that time again, Cassius. You’ve been blocked. In 77 A.D you are a dead man. Outside of time, you are worth more alive than dead.

The words of his Lanista echoed in his ears. No, in there were no Lanista’s in Ionic, still, the man had purchased him, purchased him from the grip of death and sentanced him to a fate fare worse.

Cassius would never see his life or loved ones again, but he would live through time, redeeming time for others. His current mission was in 1936.

Growling and shaking off the fuzz of confusion, he straightened himself as if in the Colosseum and focused his mind on the task at hand. He was still a gladiator, no matter the millennia. And like a gladiator, he would win his life back no matter where he stood in time.

THE END…FOR NOW

*More tidbits and side stories from Ministry of Time or, as you’ve just read, not the Ministry, but a branch called ‘Ionic.’ I’m sure more will come. I think I will gather up each of the other short tales that have come from this thread and create a page for them on my author site. In the meantime, you can sample the first few chapters of my debut novel, Nexus Gate 4037: The Animal, which introduces the Ministry of Time and thusly Ionic. NG 4037 will be out soon! These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt March 26th, 2018.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Silence of Clocks: A Short Story

He silently watched the car shrink away, eaten up by the distance. Strange. Although his lips were unmoving, he had so much he wanted to say.

The good thing was that he’d learned long ago to hold his tongue, swallow his errant thoughts and words like creme soda. At that moment, however, the words had the same burn as a straight shot of liquor, nothing but fire upon his throat.

He clutched the time peace at his chest. Felt it tick beneath his sweating palm. Its steady cadence like a heartbeat. Time was precious and theirs was just about up. the clock in his hands would go still and history would continue to roll forward…or backward. In his case, it went in every direction, even sideways.

That was the way of the Ministry of Time. The linear view of years and moments no longer mattered. Somehow his new perspective didn’t make this part of his job any easier.

He sucked in a sudden breath, pressed his eyes shut and clutched the timepiece so fiercely he feared his hand would bleed. The sound of burning rubber on pavement, horns blowing in the distance like a band out of tune, and shattering glass danced around his whispered goodbye and the silence of the clock in his hands.

The clock had ticked its last tock. Her story had come to an end in the fatality of a collision. He ground his teeth as a tear slid down his cheek. He could have said something. But he knew the hell that would be paid if he had. So he remained silent…like the clock in his hands.

THE END

*Okay, I know this story seems a bit strange but every now and again, portions to a series I am working on come alive and I can’t help but write them. The Ministry of Time is mentioned in my debut novel, NEXUS GATE 4037: THE ANIMAL, coming soon. These are my results for MONDAY’S MUSE WRITING PROMPT MARCH 19th, 2018.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

 

 

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: March 12th, 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “I really can’t tell you what fragrance she wore, but I remember it was beautiful, and it was sweet, like jazz, on a Sunday morning.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Illusions: Flash Fiction by Candice Coates

They were still following behind. Good. Just a few more miles and all of this would be over soon.

She gripped the steering wheel with her lambskin gloves and resisted the urge to gun the gas. Patience, she told her self. She could hold out a little while longer. It also wouldn’t make sense to lose control of the car just because…

She blew out another strained breath and peered out her side mirror.  Guilt niggled at her insides. It had been doing so since that entire time and nothing she did could drawn out it sound, not even the radio.

She’d long since turned that off. It wasn’t helping. If anything it was making her anxiety worse and the edge to be on the other side of this stretch of road sharper than an executioner’s blade.

She eased on the gas as the destination grew larger and the car behind her pulled closer to her bumper.

Almost with a battle cry, she thrust her hand beneath her car seat and pulled it out again, thrusting it out the window.

“Here!” She didn’t mean to shout. Neither did she mean to splash milk that smelt like it had spent far too much time in the blazing heat of the car at her brother-in-law.

“Daddy!” Her nephew, Felix, giggled at his father making his aunt’s mouth fall open. It was as if the child was the real-life Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde the way he switched from wailing fog horn to angelic being descended from the heavens.

Illusions, they were all illusions.

At least she had played the part of the dotting aunt for a spell, another illusion. The smile on her sister’s face mirrored by that of her brother-in-law were true, however. And that is what made the illusions all worth it.

THE END

*A strange twist to my tale. The story of the flustered aunt won over that of the potential assassin. Such is life. These are my results for MONDAY’S MUSE WRITING PROMPT MARCH 5th, 2018.

Monday Muse Writing Prompt: March 5th, 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “They were still following behind. Good. Just a few more miles and all of this would be over soon.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!