Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives 2020 – #Shortstory – Ghosts in the Attic by Darlene Foster

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

Reblogged from Smorgasbord:

Welcome to the new series of Posts from Your Archives in 2020 and if you would like to participate with two of your posts from 2019, you will find all the details in this post: New series of Posts from Your Archives 2020

This is the second post from Darlene Foster and was her short story  entry into Stevie Turner’s Short Story Competition for February 2019. I am sure you will enjoy as much as I did.

Image Pixabay.com

Ghosts in the Attic by Darlene Foster

The attic above the barn sits empty. Some say it is haunted. Others say it is cursed.

The room is possessed with many stories.

When Jim and Alice bought the farm, they decided the attic would be a perfect place for the farm help to live. So they purchased some paint and fixed it up. Then they placed an ad in the local paper seeking someone who enjoyed working with horses.

Continue reading at Smorgasbord

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Entrance ~ The Urban Spaceman #writephoto

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

Gulls cried raucously above as they journeyed to their nesting place. Below, field mice scurried amongst autumn’s detritus. And perched atop the bare limestone cliff between above and below, was she – the embodiment of patience.

The small pond near the base of the cliff drew myriad creatures, and she dismissed them with regal indifference. The family of tiny squeakers; much too small. The antlered four-leg and his harem of females; too strong and too many. The tree-climbing squeaker-hunter; a tasteless morsel she was not yet desperate enough to stoop to.

Continue reading at Observations of The Urban Spaceman

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The saga of Auldwick with Cowperthwaite village hall Part 2, ‘The Village Hall Meeting.’ ~ Jim Webster

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

Reblogged from Jim Webster:

Part 2, ‘The village hall meeting.’

It was obvious we were going to have to do something about the village hall. Wendy over-insuring it had put an ‘unfortunate’ fire out of our reach. Still, it did strike me that a five year sentence for arson, with time off for good behaviour, might still be less of an ordeal than a village hall committee meeting. Not only that, but subjectively the prison sentence might not last as long.

As always the committee members from Auldwick sat opposite those from Cowperthwaite with both sides glaring at each other. The hall is not quite in either village, thus both villages feel relieved of any obligation to contribute to the maintenance, but both seem equally happy to blame the other village for neglecting their duties.

At the opposite end of the table from me sat Wendy. Living as she does opposite the hall she is the obvious person to be treasurer and also to open up the hall on those occasions somebody is imprudent enough to hire it. By virtue of not living in either village, and also with being the only one who can understand the accounts, she is regarded with deep suspicion by the rest of the committee.

Continue reading at Jim Webster

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Entrance ~ Trent P. McDonald #writephoto

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

“No, really, it’s just a hole in the ground.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry, when I was your age, my place was a pretty nasty hole. Being a straight guy, I bet it was much worse than yours.”

Meghan smiled, an enduring look from under her eyelashes, as if she couldn’t decide if she were more embarrassed about the situation or excited.

“OK,” she said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I lead her to my car and wondered about my situation.

I was not a great socializer; far from it. In fact, I hadn’t been out with a woman since the divorce.

But it wasn’t just that.

Continue reading at Trent’s World

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Entrance ~ Alethea Kehas #writephoto

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

This is a chapter from my WIP, book two of the Warriors of Light series. When I saw Sue’s photo for this week’s writing prompt I immediately thought of my characters, some of whom find themselves in similar looking places to what we see here. Lupe is one of them, a young teen tasked with a mission to repair the lines of light inside Earth and save the life of his friend’s mother. To participate in Sue’s #writephoto challenge this week, click here. 

“Where am I?”

“Dear boy you are inside a crypt. Or, to be more precise, you are inside what once was a tomb. But, before it was that, it was something more.”

As Lupe’s eyes adjusted to the absence of sunlight, he realized the earth around him was glowing. He no longer felt fear, only awe. Tiny orbs of silvery gold speckled the ceiling and walls, and for a moment Lupe thought he was gazing up at the stars.

“They brought the above into the below, as you can see.”

“It’s so cool. But why? And what is it made of, a special paint?” Lupe reached out his fingers.

Continue reading at The Light Behind the Story

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Bright

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

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A wild moon

Wanders the night,

Frost in its soul

Softly shining.

Dawn, bright spirit

And colour roses

With quiet peace

And I will follow

Your path

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Entrance ~ Di #writephoto

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

The entrance was usually unnoticed by the casual passer by, but if you knew where to look, it was a welcome sight to get out of the chill or rain.
The cave itself went back far into the hillside, and was a good place to play Hide and Seek as kids. That was until Timmy got lost and they had a huge search party out looking for him, then Dad told us all in no uncertain terms that the cave was off limits.
Little did we know at the time that Hector lived there.

Continue reading at pensitivity101

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Painted #midnighthaiku

Posted on January 24, 2020 by Sue Vincent

Dawn light and dew drops

Conspire to paint the morning

Fragile flames ignite

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Those Who Came Before ~ Cindy Knoke

Posted on January 23, 2020 by Sue Vincent

Reblogged from Cindy Knoke:

Leave messages…

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Afghanistan Adventures #18 – Russian jeeps and hairpin bends ~ Mary Smith

Posted on January 23, 2020 by Sue Vincent

Reblogged from Mary Smith’s Place:

I had established a stock keeping system for the clinic and now was going to set up a similar one in Mubarak Shah’s neighbouring clinic in Malestan district. Jawad was to take me there – about a three hour journey – and collect me a few days later.

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In the bazaar Jawad filled up with petrol. If you are picturing a filling station with pumps – forget it. The fuel was stored in large drums. It was poured into the vehicle’s tank through a plastic funnel over the mouth of which was stretched a piece of cloth to filter out some of the dust and dirt.

Continue reading at Mary Smith’s Place

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