Today’s writing prompt and my response.
The first prompt for this week and it’s a picture prompt. A beautiful place! Use the prompts however you like, one at a time, or pen a short story over several of them.
A stony path …
These ancient stones are well-trodden. By whom, we are not certain, although we hope. We have climbed them for three days and nights, and have forgotten to exclaim over the pinkness of the heather, the greenness of the grasses, to gently poke our walking sticks into flowering gaps and see what might scurry out.
Our eyes focus on the mound beyond, a solitary bump which beckons us, a milestone in this otherwise softly undulating land.
‘How much longer?’ My companion rests on his stick. His thin grey fringe sticks to his damp forehead; his shoulders lift and fall with the extra effort of breathing the high air. His body rejects the strenuous nature of our forced pilgrimage. It would rather be at its desk, the fringe falling into his eyes as he ponders creased, faded manuscripts, coercing meaning from their ambiguous lettering.
‘The mound,’ I say, pointing uselessly. ‘Beyond there, I believe.’ I shrug. ‘Another 30 minutes, perhaps.’
‘Let’s hope we have been right.’
‘Your translation suggests so.’ I wave my stick. ‘The path, the hill … this is where we should be, yes?’
He snorts. ‘Your faith and optimism are uplifting, Prior.’
‘It’s what leaders must do. Come on. I don’t like the way those clouds are building. A storm is in the air. That much I am sure of.’
I turn and continue my climb. He follows, and behind him the boy climbs too, head high to hide his confused fear, as a prince should carry himself. He leads the donkey bearing our gifts. For I am sure of something else too: the faerie folk who dwell within the mound will not countenance sheltering our fugitive without lavish compensation. The gifts are the most precious of what the monastery held, and what we could carry before the invaders arrived. Apart from the prince himself, of course, entrusted to our care three days ago by a dying king.
The faeries will mould him, build his strength, feed a need for revenge, for justice. Shape him, ready to reclaim his own. We trust.
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Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories here!
A fate fit for a prince if ever there was one!!
You think so?
Where’s chapter one? It’s an interesting read.
Chapter 1? Sorry, Janet, it’s a one off bit of flash fiction, although yes, I agree, it conjures all kinds of backstory! If you like this kind of thing, you might like my fantasy trilogy, Guardians of the Forest – all on my website here and in KU if you have that. Thanks so much for reading and commenting.