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Your mission: use the image as inspiration and write a story of 100 words, no more no less.
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A story,
She thought if she stared at the horizon long enough she would see the cliffs of the land she left. Foolish, she chided herself yet continued to stare.
“Are you going to continue to lurk behind me or finally speak?”
“Mistress, I merely wait in fullness. When you wish to continue your journey, I will guide you.”
She turned, brows furrowed, “All I wish is to return, even as I know I cannot. My journey has surely ended.”
He said nothing, not a raised eyebrow nor lip corner.
He reached up and set the wheel in motion. “You are wrong.”
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Now, it is your turn. Submit your story in the comments.
JibberJabber says: The world is coming to an end.
The harsh heat has just begun,
And the moon eclipsed the sun.
Can’t make it in the long run,
But run is what they recommend.
As comets rain from the sky,
Can’t think of a reason why,
I shouldn’t tell you goodbye,
But that is not what I intend.
I’m lost without your direction.
Keep me lost in your embrace,
As the earth tumbles from space.
It’s too dark to see your face,
So let me be your reflection.
Others see a dreadful sight.
I see shooting sparks of light.
If the world should end tonight,
I’ll see you and see perfection.
Steven Fletcher says: I will sing a song of morning
where shith fies dance in the light,
and the queen of far Ambrosa
deigns to hold her fruvlous court.
she is sindawn in her beauty,
and she sways them with her speech,
Begging their quatendance
As they rouse from neglous sleep.
But beware her speech at dawning
Lest she sway you to her chine,
For she seeks more of her shith fies,
adding daily to her court and kind.
Do not listen to her singing,
Do not enter her seethy chine!
Lest you be swayed to quatendance
and leave your humanity all behind.
Van Knutson says: As the man held the Orb against the grinding wheel, it threw off a brilliant shower of sparks.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I am creating light,” he replied.
She noticed the sparks danced a second time in the reflection of the dark glass of his welding mask. She couldn’t see his eyes or any part of his face.
“But why are you doing it in the dark?”
The man stopped grinding, plunging the room into darkness, allowing her to contemplate the answer to her own question.
“Without darkness, there is no light.”
The man said nothing, and resumed grinding the Orb.
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