Three Line Tales: Missed The Rocks #3LineTales #fiction 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting a#3LineTales:

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Credit: William Bout

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Darkness was stealing the light of day, taking my weary breath away; I prayed while the cold, careless ocean ripped my feet from the pathway of stone I stumbled down, attempting to reach the lighthouse door. 

The storm raged and the sound of thunder, a giant drum rumbled and the clash of lightening frightened me; but above me the lighthouse torch glimmered, a shining beacon glowing in the dark for any passing ship –in my heart grew hope dimly. 
I wondered how the Captain of the grand ship approaching, could see when the night was black and the shadow seemed to overcome us both; but I, as was the ships Captain, was blind to think darkness could swallow light; as the gleam of the lighthouse blended with the dawn, I was thankful to have survived a dreadful night, stuck outside the lighthouse door, no one to hear my quivering knocks; the storm surrounded me and roared while I witnessed the grand ship barely miss the rocks — the lighthouse torch grew brighter, just in time. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Purple Haze


A storm of this magnitude was a rare occurrence when the weather wasn’t boiling hot. The temperatures had been mild at best.

Albert had felt the temperature slowly decrease outside his truck where he ate his favourite chocolate bar. He had become cold enough to throw on his thin jacket. Albert adjusted the rim of the Blue Jays hat, as the first drops of rain fell methodically on his nose. 

Then the storm had arisen with tyranny. The unbiased cruelty of Mother Nature had thrown everything she had into the storm as Albert ducked back into his truck for cover.

Golf-ball sized hail pounded down, denting Albert’s beloved white pickup truck. Then the rain crashed in torrents of harsh unending water from the sky. The wind was blowing, howling it’s rage and rocking Albert’s truck.

Albert turned on the radio to comfort himself. He could hear thunder in the distance rumbling closer.

 The sky was a harsh grey with a small purple glow as lightening sparked across it. One lightening crack was so terrifyingly loud, Albert jumped. 

The destructive path of the lightening with thunderheads, made Albert think he was adrift in purple haze when deep booms were followed by flashes of brilliant purple.

Then, the radio was suddenly, blaringly loud to Albert as the thunder and lightening passed. The rain continued in sheets.

Jimi Hendrix was singing “Purple Haze,” crooning in his legendary voice on the radio:”Yeah, Purple Haze all in my eyes, don’t know if it’s day or night . . .” 

Albert could relate to those lines as he waited through the mid-afternoon in his truck, for the purple haze left in the rainy sky to pass. 

(Although, Albert knew Hendrix sung of a different kind of “Purple Haze. “)

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A Mixed Bag

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Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF
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Jimi Hendrix ” Purple Haze”

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©Mandibelle16.All Rights Reserved. 

Writing 101:Day 13 – The Drug House


Prompt: Play with the word count. 

 

http://www.spiritvoyage.com
 
There is a house across the street where the people come back and forth, even at 4:00 a.m. In the day, a black truck sits infront of the house grumbling and rumbling making a horrible noise; the driver probably thinks his truck is cool. It runs forever sitting there, polluting the air.  It could be a house where the rooms are rented out or maybe some couple or family lives there. 

But there are always people arriving, leaving, and smoking. We wonder what else they do in this house. Do they sell drugs there?  Is their clientele the people coming and leaving? It would make sense with all the arrivals and departures, at all times day or night.

 While I wonder, I’m sure that I see a scruffy man on the coach do a line of cocain from a dirty coffee table. In the back people are smoking Marajana, I can smell it, it doesn’t bother me except that in this house it could be a ‘gateway’ drug. I wonder whose life is being ruined by the drugs these people are selling. 

But then again they could just be neighbours and I really haven’t seen anything weird going on; I’m just surmising and imagining the worst. My mind has slid to a place where I’m judging these people and I’m expecting criminal activity. Better shut the curtains.