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


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

A Mixed Bag

—–

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. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Poem: Etherees – “The Man In Darkness” 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt words Stroll and Chaos.

——-

Down through the woods and over hills,

Strides a calm and quiet man searching,

For lost trails, gazing at the–

Setting sun, as the moon takes —

Precedent, inky —

Sky a light with —

Northern lights,

Greenish, 

Glow.

——

Stroll,

Through the —

Darkness of —

Night’s powerful —

Sting; cold cutting winds,

No warmth found in shadow,

Pine needles crunching under–

Foot and animals rising to —

Go about nocturnal business and —

Scare a stranger unused to the dark night.

——–

No fear in this man’s heart, strolling in the dark, 

He feels at home in night for day is —

His chaos; the constant trill of —

Sounds and day life driving —

His spirit to hiding,

Beneath acquired,

Layers built to —

Shut-out every-

One else,

Life.

—–

Night, 

Brings its–

Peacefulness,

Stability,

Reason and clear mind,

No shouting and yelling,

No deadlines or staying —

Into supper time, grieving him,

Of nights call for him, wander its soul, 

Find comfort beneath the moon, wolves howl.

—–

In sleeping bag beneath the sky this man, 

At last rests his weary head because,

Tomorrow morning chaos reigns,

People who always want you–

To do something you don’t,

You’ve no time to lose, 

Can’t clean their mess,

But you do,

It’s not,

Night.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Hiking the Hill


I wish you were here at the top of the hill, where the sunset gleams on boulders and rocks.

This place that we hiked to is far out of the way, there’s not a soul for miles either way.

So, we sweated and breathed in the humid air, yet we kept on walking through heat and sunshine shower.

You fell once as we stepped over circles or rocks and forest debris, you may have twisted your ankle,

But you continued just the same, and we both kept on going though you limped as we strode.

The wood was alive with the smell of pine, and a rabbit just stopped to stare at us hiking.

We were panting and dirty and there was a moment or two, I thought we’d have trouble with a little brown bear.

When we reached the hills summit, we looked down below, the great hill (a mountain) was glowing in sunset.

We camped for a day or two, you hated that the most, rocky hills are not places for sleeping your best.

And stiff and stumbling we came back down the hill, many hundred pictures, and aches and pains later.

The hill is a memory, that I fondly look upon, the time that I spent with you, now that your gone.