You used to drive too fast, metal to the floor, you thought it was clever to use so much power behind the wheel. Always pushing the red line, celebrating your next tactical manoeuvre amongst crowds of unsuspecting metal caskets by driving with your knees. Much as I enjoyed the thrill of speed clutching the edge of the passenger seat, I hated close range views of lorries undercarriages and constantly worried about unmarked cars.
When you left I didn’t understand, you voiced no reason, chicken-hearted you just took off at speed. I hoped that you would meet your match out on the highway that evening. I prayed for you to be written off, I had been your underwriter for too long, but men like you always get away with it, to begin with.
Delighting in writing for challenges again after a long NaNoWriMo break in November! Find other FSF here >
Another wonderful prompt challenge that I have neglected for too long – click the icon to check it out, read others or take part.
Gemma knew she shouldn’t do it, but Todd was out for the evening and she’d already hacked his account. She felt sick, but wanted to know the truth and in all honesty, she already knew.
He was with her now.
She opened the latest messages and there on the screen was confirmation of their plan to elope. Gemma selected the envelope icons and deleted all of them, banishing the vixen from his account.
Click the button to find out about this challenge and visit Lillie McFerrin’s blog where you will find lots of FSF posts!
Wisdom is something which the old tell the young about, the old tell the young that they will acquire it one day and the young find this incomprehensible to imagine as they are not yet wise enough to hold such a thought!
It saddens my heart that so often the old then lose this wisdom as diseases take control of their ancient minds and wipe the slate of memories one by one, until they call you by the wrong name, a name from a different generation becomes your identity, still you look at their wrinkled smile and know that they were once the one who spoke of great wisdom.
You age, your heart becomes scarred and blessed by experiences and your mind without your conscious thought, develops. Until one day you realise you are wiser, you talk to someone younger and tell them it will be okay and everything happens for a reason, you pass on the pearl that wisdom will come with age.
Then your face wrinkles into a smile, as you realise you are old. Art credit to tumblr_mniykg0t
I took the liberty of using much longer sentences this week – seems I am not yet wise enough to compose this idea in fewer words. (Checks mirror for wrinkles!)
I found this challenge a while back and the next week it wasn’t posted, after which I was offline – ready to tell a tale in just 5 sentences. Let’s see…
(If you are interested in participating click the button)
“It isn’t this one!” Esme disclaimed as she tried yet another, long, silver key in the lock! They had recently bought a house, very much like Fort Knox with it’s locks and doors, chains and bolts, they had inherited about twelve sets of keys (it had been a rental). The first thing they did was change the locks, especially after having all the workmen in on key loans. But now they were flummoxed as they stared through the window at the beautiful summer house which didn’t open with any of the sets of jangling keys.
I was on Meghan’s blog searching out her Picture It & Write entry and I found her FSF post. Up for another writing challenge I went to investigate and found this…
What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.
This week: DESOLATE
The once victorious city sunk into foundations of ash and rubble.
Steps that led nowhere left inside buildings, bombed beyond recognition.
The world drained of colour and life, a vast landscape, grave and empty of anything other than charcoal grey remains and smoke.
The skies unforgiving prepare to rain down on the desolate city.
Unloved and discarded, a blot on the map, a mistake.