Tag Archives: Photo Challenge

Doorways Fluttering in the Breeze

blankets

© Sarah Whiley

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They reminded him of his childhood when Mom used to hang the wet laundry on the backyard clothes line to dry. Except these were supposed to be art at a small, outdoor fair at a local park.

In his peculiar line of work, Demetrius Lauer traveled all over the world and visited communities from the largest megacities to the smallest rural hamlets. Today, it was Winchester Park in the small but growing commuter city of Kuna, Idaho. Fortunately, bringing his M1911 Colt semi-automatic wasn’t a problem in this part of the U.S. He was probably going to need it, but he had to find his prey first.

Dem was an unusual type of bounty hunter. Yes, he tracked down some of the most dangerous men and women on the planet, but many were just as dangerous on other planets, or in this case alternate realities.

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Disfigured

mask

Photo credit Sarah Whiley

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Every day for the past eight months I stare at my empty mask with a sense of elation. I am no longer its prisoner, no longer its slave. I am free.

Of course, freedom always comes at a price, usually a very high one. After the accident, anyone looking at my face, even if they were kind and never meant to, always registered a certain revulsion. Well, who could blame them? I was absolutely hideous. Wearing the mask was marginally better. I still received their stares, but more out of curiosity. Naturally, I would never have the affection of a woman again, especially since my dearest wife was killed in the accident that made me a monster.

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The Others

aj

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

Downtown passersby were aghast as they watched a man wave goodbye to the woman with one leg dangling out of the second-floor window.

“Do something! She’ll fall.”

Instead of responding to an emergency, the man in the baseball cap smiled. “No, she can’t fall. You see she’s…”

Sirens approaching from the east told the gathering crowd that someone had called 911.

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Jeb’s Guests

houses

Photo Credit: One Big Photo

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

Jeb Blackbird was walking next to the workhorse pulling the buffalo carcass laden wagon when he saw the stranger by his house. Only Sioux should be allowed on this land for 400 miles in every direction, but this man was obviously one of the hated colonizers. To his credit, the white haired (white skinned) colonizer was waiting respectfully some twenty feet from the front door of the big house. Although the Dakota plains in autumn got damn cold, and the intruder was only in a shirt and rough trousers, he didn’t seem to mind.

The sun was setting behind the three houses, the big house for his wife and three children, middle for meat curing, storage, and whatever else he could think of, and the small house for the sweat lodge. Jeb reached over to the horse (he never bothered to give it a name) and pulled his Winchester rifle from the long holster mounted on the bridle.

“Speak your piece.” He made his voice as gruff as he could, though when he sang, his wife Ella said he sounded like the sweetest spirits. He pointed the barrel at the ground. This man’s kind had been a terrible trouble before they’d been stopped. His closest neighbor, Stewart Bluefeather said he had friends among them, and that not all white people were cruel, but for Jeb, trust was hard earned.

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Free

roses

Photo credit: Dale Rogerson

“I’ve escaped. I’m outside of Sanctuary.” Dane Asher’s numb fingers caressed the brittle petals of the frozen roses. They were covered with a layer of snow, and were so beautiful, like the landscape graced by a winter that was slowly killing him.

“I don’t know why I’m free, but now I’m free only to die.” He looked to the frosted forest and the sunset at the horizon beyond. “Better dying free than living like a slave.”

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The Failure

fog

Found at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie for Photo Challenge #355

“Screw this shit! I’ve had enough!” Dane roughly yanked the glorified brain cube off of his head and threw it to the ground.

“Mr. Asher, please retrieve your covering and replace it on your head. The amplified voice from somewhere over the dark stone wall behind him reverberated. Dane had always hated the Counselor’s snotty, superior London accent hidden though it was behind a vocal distorter.

“Fuck you!” He looked down for it anyway, but after having marched several feet away from his assigned position, he couldn’t see it. White fog swirled around his knees, and had mired everything.

The figures surrounding him, already dehumanized by the same isolation gear, seemed like ghosts. In fact, even though he could see again, he remained partitioned from the actual world.

“Mr. Asher, I remind you that you agreed…”

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A Beautiful Friendship

lovers

Lovers by Harry Hollard, 1982

Eugene hadn’t felt the warmth of a woman’s touch in too long. The pandemic, lockdowns, and all the rest made most people reluctant to become intimate with a stranger. His life had always been dependent on a near endless string of brief, anonymous affairs. He had been starved for what he needed for what felt like an eternity.

“Come here, lover.” Brenda cooed and sighed as he took the nipple of her right breast between his lips and expertly fondled it with his tongue.

They were both nude and his penis began to stir, but the longing he felt went far beyond that. However, as he was about to strike, he was startled out of the moment.

“And now you’re mine, you poor sap.” Brenda clutched his head in both of her palms and began a ritual Eugene knew all too well.

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The Thirteenth Sign

ferry

Photo by Jayant Kulkarni on Pexels.com

“This is most unusual.” The ferryman, standing at the head of his riverboat, guided it steadily, pull by pull, across waters darker than pitch.

“It is allowed. I have Persephone’s blessing.” The voice from beneath the ashen robes and hood was deep, husky, even coarse, but still unmistakably female. It was the only sign of her identity besides a vague shape, for no part of her flesh was visible to him.

While the waters of the Styx were liquid obsidian, the mist surrounding them swirled white as smoke, perhaps belched out between the Underworld and the living by the furnaces of Hades.

“Sisyphus had Persephone’s ear, and you chose your timing well, what with the winter solstice coming upon the land above.” The old man took another stroke, and then listened as if someone might call. Even to the cloaked figure, he looked unkempt and foul, his stench could have been rotting fish, the breath of rats, or gangrenous flesh. His long, stringy hair and beard dripped an unsavory substance.

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The Warning

witch

– Oleg Oprisco

“You have to go back!”

She was tall, with long, red hair that drapped her blue jacket clad shoulders. Her eyes were an intense green and her face was smooth and pasty, like melted wax.

But what Sean saw in her hands gave him pause.

“Young lady, I don’t know what…” The sixty-five year old writer, in Glasgow to visit a dying friend, stared at what she was holding.

“Please, you have to go back.”

“What is that?”

“Your doom if you choose to continue.”

He had the taxi drop him off at a pub not half a block from where his old friend Brian MacGregor lived. He needed to have a quick one before facing Brian’s and his mortality. She was standing only a few feet from his destination.

“My what? Is that…?”

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Freedom Day

new beginnings

– Gabriel Isak

No one thought the Fields of Shantara would be the decisive battle against the tyranny of the Verbeni. For a dozen generations, the invaders of the colony world of Grazoria had ruled the human race with cruel efficiency, and although the resistance fighters were outgunned and out manned, they were courageous. Their harassment of the enemy gave the populace hope, until their exploits became legends for their children and their grandchildren.

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