Sunday Photo Fiction: An Evil Chalice #amwriting #fiction #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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Timo and Erica had been stranded in the desert when their small plane crashed near Cairo. Sunburnt, exhausted, and thirsty, they were shocked to see an Oasis. 

“An Oasis Timo, we’re saved. There’s water and even a chalice to drink from,” Erica yelled. 

“You’re seeing things Erica, there’s no water and no chalice.” 

Really look, it’s only a few steps away — we’re here,” Erica said rushing forward to drink from a beautiful pale blue spring; however, whenever she tried to cup the spring water with her hands, it slide away. 

“It won’t let me drink and I’m half-dead,” she cried. 

Timo rubbed his eyes, finally believing the blue spring underneath a palm tree existed. A chalice made with a human skull sat in the middle of a stone alter as well. It gave him a feeling of dread. 

“Erica, to drink the water you need the chalice but don’t do it. There’s something terrifying and evil about this cup.” 

She turned to Timo, giving him a dark stare, “I’ll drink from the chalice if I want.” Erica strode to the alter, bowed mockingly and lifted the chalice to kiss the skull on the mouth.

Timo grimaced as she scooped it into the water and drank. It was an Indiana Jones’ movie come to life as Erica’s life force was sucked from her body which disintegrated until she was dust. 

He decide to try drinking from the spring without the chalice. Timo drank all the water he could then sat down beneath the large palm tree in the shade. He wondered why cupping his hands worked for him and not for poor Erica as he drifted asleep.

When he awoke, Timo heard the blessed noise of rescuers in the distance and hollered for help. To his amazement the Oasis had disappeared along with the chalice. 

He contemplated what he should say happened to Erica as no one would believe the truth. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Babel Falling


I was curiously studying the buildings downtown. Especially a building shaped like an elongated pyramid. It was under construction and would be the tallest building there was. It felt out of place to me. Like the Tower of Babel  built to the heavens. I think it was a mistake to build it so high. 

It made me think of the pyramids where the Egyptian Pharohs were buried. Pyramids built by slaves who toiled and died. It was hard work to toil so high in the sky. This tower also made me think of the Inca’s and the ziggurats on which they sacrificed an innocent person, cutting out their hearts for their blood thirsty gods.

I observed something was wrong high up on the elongated pyramid. I heard the squeak of steel and I cringed when I heard the breaking of glass shattering. Pieces of the building began to plummet to the streets below. I tried to avoid them. The closer the pieces come, I understand. I am a sacrifice. The tower of Babel is falling. That is what happens when you pay only enough money for near slave labour. I cast my eyes to the heaven in prayer as a piece of metal silences my thoughts. 

Alistair Forbes

Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.