A tired man wins…(Friday[sunday?] Fictioneers)

Well… I think I’ll deviate a little from my usual, eh?  Friday Fictioneers!!

The man awoke with a yawn and a stretch that cracked half his joints.  He scratched his post quarters (and front quarters if we’re honest), and shuffled down the stairs.  At the bottom, a pain blossomed in the ball of his foot.  He yowled and stumbled. Reaching to catch himself, his hand came down on a spatula, which slapped baked beans at his face.  Ducking to miss the projectile, his head slammed into the cupboard.  With a concussive grunt and cursing, he shook it off and grabbed the steaming coffee off the table.  He sighed. “Thank God, a cup o’sunshine!”

Shadows and Accusation (Friday Fictioneers)

Well Christmas is pretty much over for me.  It was a great weekend but now I have to get back to it!  So without further ado here is this week’s Friday Fictioneers entry…Hosted by none other than Rochelle Wisoff-Fields…Look at the picture, write 100 words.  Easy right?  Nope.  But hey, its fun so see below would you already?

The creature stood before her in the dim light, eyes glowing with accusation.  Candles having long since sputtered out,  she let her natural dark-sight take over as she glared back with obvious annoyance.  Hours and days and days and hours she spent fitting all the images together.  Would they believe her?  How could she convince the Wise Ones on the elder council to hear warnings she had yet to scribe?  The nearly blank page beneath the striped shadow accused her in its ruined purity.  The start so far would not be enough. “Esteemed Elders, we stand to soon be threatened…”

A Vision…(Friday Fictioneers)

Well since I’ll be out of town for a Christmas gathering I figured I’d get a jump (at exactly 100 words!) on this Friday Fictioneer week!  See below…

The woman with the flowing, pitch black hair and determined, yet delicate elven features gasped at the vision in her mind.  She saw chains and a stake, a shaping of worlds eternally bound behind shackles of iron fencing.   Our world?  She wondered silently.  Flashes of bright orange–fire?– and sharp objects seized her heart.

The elder council must be warned, for if she was right, they would soon be fighting to avoid that which they fear most.  The bitter rusting decay of mortality.  The council could not, nay, would not… allow their race to fall, to become as a man.