Tag: #writephoto

Posted in Crime, Flash Fiction

A Calming Influence – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

Little Michael and his parents traveled to the beach a few hundred miles away from their home town. Carol and John Henderson, Michael’s parents, were trying to find something to help little Michael. The nine year old boy had been through a traumatic time at his school. After the trauma, he had refused to ever go back to that school building. He was also afraid of leaving his house and of just about anything new. When someone came to the door of his house, he hid under his bed. Most of the time, he preferred to play in his room with his Legos.

Carol and John were at the end of their rope. They had tried everything and they couldn’t seem to help their precious son. They were so thankful that he wasn’t one of the victims at his school that they just wanted to keep him home and safe. They knew that the school shooting would scar him for life. They also knew that they needed to take some positive action to try to help Michael, so they planned a beach trip thinking that a change of scenery might help the little boy.

The Henderson’s were staying right on the beach. When they got to their hotel, they took Michael outside to play on the beach and see the ocean. The beach was crowded. Carol took Michael’s hand and led him to the edge of the water, hoping he would enjoy the ocean. She noticed that his eyes kept darting around the crowd at the beach and he refused to even get his feet wet. He just wanted to go back inside their hotel room. They walked right by a big bucket and spade that had been placed there for the kids to enjoy. Michael ignored it. He almost ran back to their hotel room.

Carol and John waited until the next day to try to lure Michael to the beach. They had conversations with him about his fears. No words seemed to help. Carol insisted that Michael try to beach again, so they once again took Michael outside. When they got outside, Carol noticed a small boy, Michael’s age, working on the beginning of a sand castle using the bucket and spade. Michael noticed him too and Carol saw his eyes light up. As they walked by the boy building the sandcastle, he stopped them to say hello. Michael walked over to him and watched him build the sand castle.

Finally, the boy asked Michael if he could play and would he like to help build the sandcastle. Michael jumped at the chance and the two children played all afternoon. After he came back to the hotel room, he was very quiet.

Later that evening, Michael said to Carol, ”Mom, my new friend had the same experience I did.” Carol asked what he meant. Michael went ahead to say, ”His school got shot up too, but it was a year ago. He felt like I feel. However, he has now gone back to school and wants to get to play again. I want to be like him.”

Carol had to turn away because of the tears in her eyes. For the first time, she had hope for Michael. As their week at the beach progressed, Michael, and his new friend, Gregory, played every day. One day when Carol was at the beach with Michael, she actually heard him laugh with Gregory. She also saw him and his friend stick their toes into the ocean. She felt like Michael was on the road to recovery.

After the family returned to their hometown, Carol and John put Michael into counseling. It was slow going with the little boy, but months later, he went back to school, but to another elementary school.

Michael’s scars will be permanent, As he grow up, he’ll realize that he was much luckier than some of the children that day. He came away with his life, but it will be different now. Michael told Carol that he wants to help other kids like Gregory helped him.

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Tokens – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

Walking through the woods on the day of the autumn equinox, she found them. Tokens lying at the foot of a tree. Arranged in a precise manner. A fall leaf signifying the season. The season when the harvest is over and it’s time to rest and renew. There was a grey feather. A sign that balance will be achieved in the universe. A sign of the season of neutrality and hope. Last, she saw the two red tokens. Red for boldness, passion, and creativity. She sat at the foot of the tree and let the magic of the tokens overtake her.

 

Thanks to Sue Vincent #writephoto

Posted in Flash Fiction

Clouded Vision – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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The cottage was in the small village that was surrounded by moorland. The scenery was beautiful outside. Green, peaceful, pleasant. The village was sleepy, but friendly. When they arrived here, they remembered how the times with her parents at the cottage were filled with love and care. They were gone now, but they had given she and her husband the lovely gift of the cottage. They used it as a get-away from high-pressure life they lived in the city. Now, the pandemic had driven them out of the city and they took refuge in the cottage in the countryside.

It was a very small place, perfect for two people, though when they came here with her parents, they squeezed in four. It had only four rooms downstairs. In the front, there was a large living area with cushy furniture and colors that reminded her of her childhood. Lots of pinks, greens, and blues. Some of her artwork from childhood was hanging on the walls along with lovely photos of this part of the country and pictures of family members who were all gone now. A big fireplace and hearth were at the side of the room with floor pillows all around. They enjoyed this room.

At the side of the living room and across from the fireplace stood a ladder leaning up to allow access to the open loft. The loft was where she and her husband slept. The ceiling was high because of the V-shaped pitched roof of the cottage. The bedding was a calm beige with a big comforter covering the bed. There were a few other pieces of furniture. Old tables used as nightstands. A trunk at the end of the bed where they could sit. It held treasures from the past. She made sure this was an inviting place. One with soft surfaces and warm throws everywhere. Soft blue filled the room.

Behind the living area was the big kitchen and workroom. An Aga stove dominated the kitchen and everyone seemed to gather here. In front ot the stove stood a long country dining table, also used for cooking preparation. Comfortable chairs with cushions were around three sides of the table. Friends came here to sit and drink endless cups of tea with them.

The small, but cozy, bedroom was at the side of the house. It contained everything a guest would need. The bathroom was by the bedroom and in it was a claw foot tub. The bathroom had been updated to allow for a shower. Her pots and creams and sticks full of color made the room smell like heaven. Potions and lotions were all around the big tub.

Because of the pandemic, he had been laid off his job, but she was still working remotely.  Coming to the cottage and the green of the moorland relaxed both of them and allowed them to think about something other than sickness and death. They planted a small kitchen garden behind the cottage. Her mother’s flower garden was also there, bursting with color and the promise of new beginnings.

She would sit with her small dog on the back porch while he puttered in the gardens. Her head were filled with love and a glimmer of hope for the future. She watched the cloud bank roll across the moorland and thought of how clouded her own vision had been in the past. There was a time she saw only despair, but that time was gone. Her vision had cleared and, finally, she realized how lucky she was to have him.

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction

Fume – #write-photo

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

An excerpt…..

Ladd and Uwin had finished their dinner and Uwin was telling Ladd more about the cunning folk in England as compared to witches. They suddenly heard a commotion on the street outside the shop and a lot of yelling. Both jumped up and headed through the shop for the outside door. When they stepped outside, they realized the air was filled with smoke. Looking down the street, they saw a fume of smoke that was lit by fire within it. Uwin realized that some of the shops along the street were on fire. The shops were all made of wood and were very close together If one shop caught on fire, that fire could wipe out an entire street. 

Uwin leaped into action. He went into the shop and got two buckets for he and Ladd so they can help dip water to put out the fire. Then, they start running to the scene of the fire. Two shops were already engulfed in flames. The men had a line set up from the shops to the river behind them, but it seemed they were fighting a losing battle. The fire was moving faster than they could carry water to put it out.

Uwin said, “Ladd, this is a serious situation. We need to help. I don’t know if your powers are strong enough yet to help with this fire, but we have to try. It will be very taxing on you. I’ll help too.”

“I’ll do my best, Uwin.”

The two men stood in the background. Uwin knew that Ladd’s powers were stronger than his own, so he watched Ladd go first. He saw Ladd go very still and watched his eyes flash as he concentrated on that fire. It seemed as the boy held that position for a long time. The fire started to abate. The water the men were putting on it started to work. 

Uwin touched Ladd’s arm and said, “Enough.”

Ladd broke the spell and fell to the ground overcome with fatigue.

Uwin kneeled beside him and started talking to him.

“Ladd, son, are you alright?”

Ladd awakened, but he was groggy.

He said, “Uwin, I need to go to sleep.”

Uwin helped Ladd up and slowly helped him back to their shop. Ladd fell on his bed and was asleep instantly. Cat was running around them in circles and immediately jumped up on Ladd’s cot. He spent all night guarding him. 

Thanks, Sue!!

Posted in Fiction

Shimmer – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

On Ladd’s family’s first night at their hut after he left for London to apprenticeship with the small man, there was a sense of emptiness, but a lot of activity. Archer and Knowledge knew Mercy would be inconsolable without her brother. Archer arranged, with Lord Percival, to provide Mercy with a small spaniel dog to be her companion. He brought home the puppy that night. Mercy was wild with pleasure but only after she had talked with Knowledge who reassured her that Ladd would be home and would still be her brother. Mercy didn’t mention her encounter with her betrothed, Smith, to her mother.

While Mercy played with her new puppy, Knowledge took Archer aside since they needed to have a conversation. About that time, Smith, Mercy’s betrothed, walked up and asked to speak with Archer. Archer agreed and Knowledge withdrew to the hut, feeling as if she and her husband never had a moment to speak in private.

“Archer, I would like to speak to you about Mercy,” Smith began.

“What about her, Smith?”

“I know she is dreadfully upset that Ladd has gone off to make his way. I would like to help her. I would like to go ahead and seal our union, marry Mercy,” Smith said.

Archer stared at the younger man for a few seconds and then said, “Smith, I know you are from a different land, but our custom in Farnsworth is for our young girls to remain betrothed for a year or even two. Mercy is too young and inexperienced to marry. You’ve only been betrothed a few months.”

There was something about Archer that made Smith not question him.

Archer went on, “I’m still raising Mercy. She’s only a child. I think I can comfort her quite well. Now, good evening.”

Archer turned and walked toward the hut and Smith had no choice but to leave. He was very unhappy. Archer told Mercy to bring her new puppy and come in with him since it was her bedtime. He had prepared a bed for the puppy by Mercy’s bed, much to her delight.

After Mercy went to bed, Knowledge told Archer she had to speak with him and he agreed. They went outside the hut and sat down in two chairs Knowledge always kept there for the family or guests.

“Archer, our family is about to expand.”

Archer looked at Knowledge quizzically.

“What do you mean?”

“I am with child, probably about three or four months along, Archer.”

“Knowledge,” Archer cried out. “How wonderful! I had thought our family was probably complete.”

“I’m so glad you’re happy about it. I was afraid you’d be upset,” Knowledge said.

“I am overcome with happiness, my love,” Archer said.

Knowledge, being very relieved, told Archer there was something else she needed to discuss.

“It’s been years since we’ve discussed this, Archer. There has been no reason until now…..and Ladd. Do you remember my grandmama? You met her and we talked about her.”

Archer laughed and said, “You mean one of the most famous witches ever to live in England? How could I possibly forget your Grandmama? You also got your beauty from her.”

“Thank you, Archer. I don’t think you’re quite making the connection.”

Before Archer could speak, there was a roll of thunder and the air shimmered in front of them. There, in the shimmer, was a beautiful old woman smiling at the couple.

“Hello my darling granddaughter.”

“Grandmama, you’ve come to visit,” Knowledge cried.

“Only for a moment. My powers are not what they used to be. I have to make things clear to your young man.”

“Hello, Archer. Is your head made of wood, my son? Ladd has just felt the calling to be a sorcerer. What, pray tell, am I?”

Archer said, “Because you were a witch…..is that why……I see…..that’s why Ladd was chosen?”

“It’s in his heritage, in his genes,” the old woman replied. “Of course it’s why he was chosen. He already has the power. He just doesn’t know it.”

Her image was fading and she quickly said goodbye and was gone.

Knowledge remarked, laughing, “I can’t believe she can still do that. She has been dead for so long now.”

“Now I understand about Ladd,” Archer said.

An excerpt

Thank you, Sue!

Posted in Fiction

Glass – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

 

As Ladd and the small man made their way toward London, they stopped to sleep at dusk at whatever shelter they could find. The first night on the road found them by a lake with water so still it looked like glass. There was a small shelter there that someone, probably another traveler, had built out of limbs and mud. It was enough to keep them out of the weather and away from the wild beasts. The small man decided to stop there for the night.

After they laid down their things, the small man instructed Ladd to gather some leaves to make them softer beds. The leaves from the past fall were still on the ground. Ladd went about the business of gathering leaves while the small man built a fire. Dark had not yet fallen.

The small man went to Ladd and asked him to follow him. Ladd stopped leaf-gathering and followed the man. He led him to the water’s edge and sat down. He motioned for the boy to sit down beside him.

“Have you ever seen a looking glass?” the small man asked the boy.

“Oh yes,” Ladd replied. “The mother of my friend from home has one.”

”Looking glasses are important in your job as a wizard,” said the small man. “They allow you to see through them to the future and in front of them to the past.’

Ladd just stared at him.

“I’ll give you a magic lesson,” the small man said, smiling. “First, we have to cast a circle. The circle will keep the evil powers out and keep us safe inside.”

With that, the small man picked up a stick and drew an oval in the sand around them. He then sat very still with his head bowed. He appeared to disappear deep inside himself. He opened his eyes, raised both arms and pointed out at the lake. Ladd saw that his eyes had turned the color of the lake.

In his hands, he had pieces of lake glass he had picked up, clear in one hand, colored in the other. He shook them and transferred the clear glass to the hand with the colored glass. He said these words,

“Glass and water, Glass and water. We mean you no bother. Show us Ladd’s village. Only a future image.”

From the surface of the lake, a shimmery image of Ladd’s village arose.

As it came into focus, Ladd cried out, “There’s my sister. That’s Mercy!”

“Who are the people with her, Ladd?” the small man asked gently.

“The man is Smith, her betrothed and the blacksmith in our village. There are children I don’t know. It looks like Mercy is carrying a child.”

The small man said, “Remember Ladd, that is an image of the future.”

Suddenly, the image vanished. The small man seemed to draw back into himself and Ladd was quiet. After some time passed, the small man opened his eyes, which were now back to normal. He spoke. He spoke,

“That was quite tiring. It’s time to sleep.”

As he and Ladd arose, he removed the circle with his foot and they walked toward the shelter. The small man placed the lake glass in one of the jars he carried. He and Ladd then put a blanket on their pallets of straw, laid down, and immediately went to sleep.

 

 

 

Posted in Flash Fiction

Balefire – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

“Ladd, come along, we’ll be late. They are lighting the balefire for Wizard tonight,” Mercy said.

“That old goat,” replied Ladd, Mercy’s older brother. “I didn’t like him anyway. The way he crept around, watching all of us. Making his silly predictions.”

“Oh, Ladd, hush,” Mercy cried. “Wizard is powerful. We dare not say things like that. Come, let’s run. We must get to the funeral. Mama is waiting and will be angry with us.”

Ladd and Mercy set off from their hut in the village through the woods toward the funeral pyre. The people of the village were all frightened. They didn’t know that wizards could die. After a session in the street when Wizard was making a series of predictions for his people, he suddenly crumbled and dropped to the dirt. The people left him there for three days. They thought he would rise again. Finally, the medicine woman who served the village examined Wizard and determined that he was dead.

There was much weeping and wailing among the people of the village. They had never heard of a wizard dying and they thought they had done something wicked to cause it. The men started building a funeral pyre outside of the village. The women prepared Wizard’s body, including Knowledge, Ladd and Mercy’s mother.

Knowledge told the children that she had heard from the other women that one of Wizard’s predictions was going to come true. The Grand Wizard from the King was coming to the village to talk to the people. She didn’t know when the visit would take place, but she was very uneasy about it.

Within a few days, the funeral pyre was ready for the balefire to be lit and for Wizard’s funeral to take place. Knowledge told Ladd and Mercy it would be that evening and they were expected to be there. She and the other women had to accompany Wizard’s body.

When Ladd and Mercy reached the funeral pyre, the balefire had been lit and was beginning to burn high. The people were standing back. They were fearful of what a balefire meant for a wizard.

Then, someone appeared from the shadows. Everyone gasped. It was the Grand Wizard sent from the King. He roared as he stood in front of the funeral pyre. He said that a wizard would be dispatched from the kingdom to the village to train someone to take Wizard’s place. The people of the village all looked at each other, wondering who would be the chosen one that would be trained.

The Grand Wizard raised his arms to the sky and a lightning bolt struck the ground right next to Ladd. The Grand Wizard declared that Ladd was the chosen one and that he should prepare himself for training to be the next wizard. Knowledge swooned and fell to the ground. Ladd stood there in shock, not knowing what to do. He didn’t want to be the wizard, but he was struck dumb.

The Grand Wizard disappeared, leaving the people of the village to the funeral and Ladd and his family to absorb the news. Mercy, standing off to the side, contemplated the trouble that would likely follow.

Posted in Flash Fiction

Stillness – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

There were always a few tourists hanging around the cliff at the end of the day. If they noticed the old man sitting there, on the rocks, no one paid much attention to him. The tourists were there to see the sunset. It was a spot known for its spectacular sunsets. The old man was there every day, for every sunset.

He sat tall with exceptionally good posture. His father had taught him that. He had a full head of white hair. You couldn’t see his face since he was looking down, but you could see his rather rugged profile. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he was someone you would instantly notice. His arms were stiffly supporting him on either side.

This was the place John came to for serenity, to find stillness. The older he got, the more life overwhelmed him. He and his wife had made a pact to try to get back to simplicity, to even become minimalists. It seemed that life interfered with their plans at every turn. Being a minimalist didn’t just mean having a home that was stark with little furniture and no clutter. It was also a way of thinking. Just living in today’s world almost would not let them live their lives in a simple manner.

That’s why John came here every day. It was meditation, he supposed. This was the only place where he could empty his mind completely and have a half hour of peace. When that half hour had passed, it was if he had awakened from a trance. He was refreshed. It was much better than sleep. He felt he could survive.

Posted in Fiction

Copper – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

You could hardly see her as she walked down the old country lane. The trees were ablaze with fall color and her coppery-colored hair was indistinguishable from the leaves swaying from the bowing branches. She was home to see her parents for the first time since she had married. They were not pleased and she hoped to placate them.

It was the fall of 1943 and her new husband had gone off to war after only two weeks of married life. She knew that he hadn’t wanted to marry before going off to war. She wouldn’t know until many years later why he finally decided they should marry. She thought he had a guilty conscience. She really hadn’t meant to get pregnant. They met in the USO Club in the small town where she lived with her sister and attended college. Her sister and her husband had introduced her to him.

He was just so exotic. Growing up deep in the heart of Appalachia, she’d never met anyone like him. She’d fallen in love. He’d come to the small college town to train naval men before they went off to war. He was from another place, another culture. He had such a voice! They hadn’t meant to become so intimate so fast. Then there was a baby that would come of their union. She did love him so, but did he love her? She had no way to know. She was determined to make that happen.

Now she had to concentrate on her mother and father. They had married in the spring, but she had attended summer school. This was the first time she’d been home since her marriage. Almost at the end of the lane that led to The Big House, where she’d grown up and where her parents still lived, she slowed her pace and took a deep breath. She sat her small cloth suitcase down and breathed in the crisp fall air. She looked around her. It was beautiful in eastern Kentucky at this time of year. Now it was time to face the music. She could hardly stand to disappoint them, especially her Daddy.

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing, Writing Challenge

Harbinger – #writephoto

Posted on by R.M. Carlson

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It somehow seems unfair that, as you get older, life gets harder. Haven’t we paid our dues by now? Isn’t it time for easy street? Apparently not. I’ve just spend one of the hardest summers ever and I’m hoping it isn’t a harbinger of things to come. I don’t normally believe in omens, but the events of the past summer has filled me with fear.

The good news is that I’m enjoying improved health. I’ve also had the opportunity to visit long-lost relatives — my father’s side of the family. It was wonderful to see them. Then there is the bad news. My life was flipped upside down this summer, early on, when my husband had a huge health scare. Major, unexpected, and emergency open-heart open-chest surgery. I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my life and I remain frightened. He survived and has recovered quite well. I’ll never quite recover from the fear. Then, one of my best friends, a childhood friend, passed away, again quite unexpectedly. I still don’t believe he’s gone. To me, we’ll always be kids, camping out in my backyard.

On top of all this, my contract writing job ended. I knew it would, but I’m still sorry it did. I don’t quite have it in me to job hunt. At least not right now. I may wait awhile, then freelance. I don’t think I’ll take another contract position. I’m not cut out to answer to a boss at this point in my life. Operating my own freelance business is more my style now. Writing non-fiction business articles. Perhaps breaking into the B2B market. I also have other areas of interest – politics, culture, education. Maybe finishing my two books. A novel and a book of flash fiction. Those are my ventures into fiction, except for the fiction I have written and will write on this blog. I’ve made a good living writing freelance in the past.

I was reminded this morning of the harbinger I really should focus on. Three months  ago, I rescued a little dog named Clara. She’s a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, a breed I’ve loved for years. She is seven years old and had served as a breeder dog in a kennel. I won’t go into all of her problems, but she was not well when she came to me. She had been neglected and only valued for her puppies. Clara has had a long summer of veterinary care and loving care in my home and she’s started to blossom. She’s starting to respond to us and she’s remembering she’s a dog who has the opportunity to play and be happy. It’s a beautiful thing to watch. Perhaps Clara is the harbinger I’m looking for since fall has arrived and winter draws near. She represents hope for the future.