On the rocks #3TC

Three Things Challenge: PL 30

 

Bing_Gleichdruckvergaser_1973

 

rocks, oregano, carburetor

She remembered the place well: the towers, the kids in the stairs, the smell of pizza and oregano he loved to bake in the kitchen.

In her dream she could see the glass of Jack Daniels, on the rocks, his favourite drink. And the day the kids stole the carburettor of his bike, parked down below, in the courtyard.

Those were the days.

Picture: Bing-Gleichdruckvergaser an einer BMW Strich-Fünf, ca. 1973. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license. Author: Johannes Maximilian

 

img_4078-19

Snowfall #writephoto

Snowfall

chatsworth-snow-11

 

“Don’t get too close!”

“What do you mean? Do you think I could wake him up? It’s a rock, just a big ‘un! Relax!”

The snow continues falling, nothing moves, bar the flakes in the light wind. I know it’s not a rock, I know what’s there, and I don’t want to risk it. But this friend of mine is too cheeky. This could turn out pretty bad.

“I’m not leaving without touching it!” She really wants to tease me. “Come on! Let’s pull its tail!”

And she starts walking, toward the trees, toward it. It.

I see her standing there, in her big coat, pretty, rosy cheeks, her blond hair catching the snow.

“Hey! Look! It’s not moving!”

I sigh. She’s not the first one to do this. But now, it is moving, not the big mass, but the ground around it. I can see, I feel the light vibrations, something deep is fluttering, just a small tremor.

“Come back please, I am getting cold…”

“You’re just such a coward, you are!” She laughs.

She looks so young, her clear voice resonates in my ears, soon a murmur, as she slowly disappears in the frozen ground. A soft motion, silent, as I watch, petrified , and the snow continues falling.

Wave #writephoto

Wave

sea-mist

 

The free fall was the same, every night. There was the sheer terror of destruction, of being shredded on the sharp rocks, so far down, down… But he knew that this was a dream: as dawn came, he would see the light, inhale the scent of the ocean, for there was no fall, and the shore he remembered well: the sound of waves, her smile, their fading steps in the wet sand…

Then the nurse would come, and asked him how he had slept. As ever, he would smile and reply: “I was again on the beach”.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Changes

Poppy seedsThere was silence, a vast landscape of grey stones, and a black sky: this forgotten corner of the universe would never attract attention.

Yet, hidden, there was moisture, perhaps a forgotten discarded frozen relic of a passing meteorite.

Then there was the star, a young star, still full to burst of hydrogen: a promising start…

Inside the rock, where the small bubble of ice kept hiding, there were other, not quite inert things, the bits that could lead to changes:

With some luck, a little transformation would follow, and life would rise, after eons of time.

#FiveSentenceFiction: Forgotten

2001They approach slowly, through the landscape of rocks and dust, their steps forever silent.

It is as was written: the crater pocked by the impact of smaller asteroids, through millennia, and the uniform grey dust.

Their leader holds the white torch high, in their radio they have heard:

The slow rumble, punctuated with short burst of sharp notes, the sound of hyperspace messaging…

And the monolith rises in a shower of dust and rocks, dwarfing the scenery around them: the Sentinel has woken.