littlewonder2

Little wonder we stumble in life.


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Trifecta – Mouth

It was a dirty, rundown city. First she’d run from her kidnappers, only to discover she was far from home, in a foreign country, now again facing the mouth of the cellar where they’d kept her bound up.

She ran harsh, coarse fingers through her dirty yellow hair, feeling stress and fear overtake her once again.

They’d find her. She was still lost in this building, and soon they’d find her. They’d beat her again. Oh, why was she here?

It was impossible. She broke down for a moment under the window, crouched down close to the ground, fingers still in her hair.

Maybe they wouldn’t find her if they couldn’t see her through the window. Even she knew that was a lie. How long had she been running? It was inevitable now. She almost wished they’d find her now, so they could complete her torture and be done with it.

But wait. Footsteps.

They clacked down the adjacent hall just to her right. Any moment now, it didn’t even matter how soon she wished for it or not. Any minute…

He emerged, freezing as he spotted her. He looked from her, to the mouth. She followed his gaze to the sign, engraved into black-painted wood: 出口 deguchi… Exit.

She sounded out each syllable in shock, speaking slowly. “De… guchi…”

Suddenly, the stranger spoke. “Hayaku!” Pulling her up, he yanked her startlingly along. Who was this man? Was he trying to save her, or…?

They burst outside. Safe… or maybe not.

“Hayaku!” he cried, and she was yanked again, double shock to her system. She looked ahead of her, beyond the sight of him beside her… a pair of gates. He was helping her escape.

Then everything exploded as the air ripped into a whirlwind around her and dust flew up, dirtying her more.

So close… she was almost there…

Her skin was ripped open, her bones feeling bent and her blood gushing. The man pulled her harder…

And somehow, they escaped.

Prompt inspired by Trifecta and the header of this site.

cropped-dirty-world.jpg


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Friday Fictioneers – New Year In Bangkok

Copyright - Lora Mitchell
“What an exotic New Year…” she whispered, gazing in awe at the sky.

“Perfect,” her husband said beside her. “Sitting on the dock of the bay… with you.”

She smiled, looking at him briefly. “You’re cute.”

“You’re perfect.”

She looked at him again, for longer this time. “It’s a perfect vacation. Thank you.” She leaned in, settling into his neck.

He stroked her hair, and she angled up to see the fireworks.

“Forget about them,” he said. “Just be with me.”

“I am with you. I’ve been with you for five years.”

“Still. Humour me.”

She smiled at him. “Sure.”

One of my rare Friday Fictioneers pieces. 🙂 For some reason, this picture looked like a foreign south-east Asian city, like Bangkok or Singapore. So I went with that.


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Trifecta – Survive

They were all wrong. He had survived his two divorces, job changes, and now… the apocalypse.

“That’s why people don’t like you,” Debra, his first wife, insisted. “You’re always bringing people down.”

But he wasn’t always bringing people. All he wanted to do was lift them up. The world was too full of doomsayers and critics; if humanity had started like this, we wouldn’t have made it this far.

Was it so wrong because he happened to see the world as it was?

The apocalypse hadn’t come; the rumours had passed like they always did. So what was there left survive?

“Dad, I need money to fix my skateboard,” his son told him, hand held out expectantly.

Oh, right. “What happened to the money I just gave you?”

“Had to use it for lunch when I was out with my friends.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not giving you another cent until you can prove you can spend it responsibly.”

The usual arguments. Bill sagged against the sofa. Now he understood the doomsayers. If life was this vain, maybe an apocalypse could teach us all to live again.

The least he could do until then was drag himself through and try to find the meaning to it. Together with his family, they had to survive this dreary apocalypse of lethargy, asleep at the wheel of our own destruction.

New Years prompt for Trifecta.