Twittering Tales #12: Good Friends

writingTwittering Tales challenge is hosted by Kat Myrman at like mercury colliding… The goal is to write a twitter-length story, in 140 characters or less. I really love these challenges! 🙂

This is my response to this week’s prompt – a bit silly story from me this time, I admit. XD

Photo prompt:

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Good Friends

Three smiling faces welcomed Tom. He felt lucky to have such good friends, unaware it was his dog Barkley they were really happy to see.

(138 characters)

Twittering Tales #11: Running Together

writingI know a missed a couple of these, but I’m happy to be back!  Each Tuesday Kat Myrman at like mercury colliding… provides a prompt for a twitter-length story (140 characters or less). I really love these challenges, and this is my response to this week’s prompt. Thanks Kat, I hope you’ll like the story! 🙂

Prompt photo:

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Running together

Together they could run and run. Run like children. Run away, escape the past. Run towards the welcoming future.

(112 characters)

Update and a Microtale

Hi, dear bloggers! I just wanted to let you know that I will be absent from my blog for a week. I’m spending the next week in Vienna, and I will celebrate the New Year’s Eve there! I can’t wait! 🙂 

Before I go, I decided to post the cutest photo from my previous trip, to Ireland and Northern Ireland, and a microtale that I made up for it. Wish you all great holidays! :*

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Sea Happiness

He jumped. The sea spattered around him. He had just an hour, or even less, before the sun set and the boring half of his day began. Then the sea would suddenly start to feel cold, and his limbs too weak to swim as fast as he would want to. Even the fish won’t taste good.

A long time ago the curse was spoken. He was to spend the day as a seal, and during the night he would take the human shape. An annoying curse, indeed. What was one supposed to do as a weak, two legged creature who doesn’t know how to enjoy the simplest and most beautiful things?

Twittering Tales #7: Inspiration

Another twitter-length tale for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales Challenge. I really liked this week’s prompt photo! Here it is:

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And here’s my tale:

Inspiration

He sat under his childhood tree, hoping he’d find inspiration for his novel. He was ready. Painful memories of the past welcomed him home.

(138 characters)

Twittering Tales #6: Wine

writingTime for another Twittering Tale! This challenge is created by Kat Myrman at Like Mercury Colliding… and it’s very fun! 🙂 Each Tuesday, she provides a prompt, and your mission is to tell a story based on that prompt in 140 characters or less. You can go and take a look at this week’s promt HERE.

The promt image this week was:

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And here is my story:

Wine

She poured him wine. Her glass was already full, with a liquid too dark and thick. He failed to notice that, or the fangs beneath her lips.

(139 characters)

Twittering Tales: Abandoned

writingI came across Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales challenge and it seemed so fun! So, I decided to participate. The idea is to write a Twitter-lenght story (140 characters or less). Here is my story for this week’s prompt image:

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Golf clubs were abandoned. When it came, money couldn’t save the rich. Wealth gave them no power anymore. They tasted the same as the poor.

(139 characters)

Six Sentence Story: A New World

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There is no place for her in the new world – he knows it as he kisses her brow, and she smiles, still half-asleep.

He listens to the clock tick, counting the last minutes of the life as he knows it. As he watched the old world go down in flames, he knew that the next one had to be made differently, perfectly, and people should stick to doing simple things in order not to mess everything up again with their imperfect ideas.

And she, she is a painter, an artist. As much as he loves her, he knows that imagination can only cause problems.

The Road to Grandmother’s House

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If you do as I say
One healty and alive
Will welcome you there.

He told her there was just one rule, as gods always do.

Red was determined not to do the same mistake as everyone before, even though she knew the odds were not in her favour. Pandora always opens the box, Eve always bites the apple, Orpheus turns to look at his lovely wife, and all of Bluebeard’s wives unlock the forbidden door.

The rule was simple. Red had to follow the road to her grandmother’s home, without making even a slightest turn aside, and when she enters the little house, her grandmother would welcome her there. She would be alive and well, in her rocking chair and not underneath the wet, cold ground.

Red’s steps were quick and determined. She believed in herself and could feel happiness enveloping her entire being. Then she saw beautiful flowers on the side of the road and thought how lovely it would be to bring them to her grandmother. She was careful as she picked them not to step from the road, not even with the tip of her shoe.

“The flowers are much more beautiful there, farther into the woods,” a deep voice said.

Red raised her eyes and saw a big wolf staring at her with piercing, green eyes.

“Oh, no, I can’t get off the road,” she said proudly. It was not so easy to fool her.

“Where are you going?” the wolf asked, and his voice was so warm and so kind that Red couldn’t refuse to answer.

“I’m going to my grandmother’s house. She died, but I was promised she will be alive again.”

“Don’t you want to see her sooner then? I know a way through the forest, it’s much shorter,” the wolf said and Red wanted to follow him anywhere.

“No, no!” she replied. “I have to follow the road.”

“Then, you can always run,” the wolf said. “Do you want to race me? I will go through the forest, and you run along the road. Let’s see who comes first!”

Red was suspicious, but she couldn’t find anything wrong about the suggestion. She would still follow the road, no matter what the wolf does. And he seemed so friendly, so she didn’t want to offend him.

“Fine! Let’s race!” she smiled.

The wolf nodded and disappeared among the trees. Red ran and ran, as fast as she could, thinking of the grandmother and thinking of the wolf. She wanted to win but when she came the wolf was already standing on the doorstep.

“You see, I know a much faster way,” the wolf seemed proud.

“Well, I admit, you won,” Red laughed. She wasn’t sad for losing, because in the end, she had also won. She had come to her grandmother’s house, and she followed the road. Magicians, genies, gods… They were never cheating. All those who failed before her were just silly people, with no power of will.

Red knocked on the door, but no one answered. She was a bit surprised to find the door unlocked. She entered the house and called for her grandmother, but no one replied.

“What happened?” she heard the wolf ask.

And then she remembered the exact words of the promise, and she remembered the wolf greeting her on the doorstep.

If you do as I say
One healty and alive
Will welcome you there.

Colours of Good Morning

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It was time for school, and the boy left his home with the bag on his shoulders. The boy. That’s how he came to think of himself. Yes, he had a name, and not a bad one, but not everyone knew it. As he walked through the farmer’s market each day, people would call after him. And they called him boy.

“Hey, boy, do you want some sweet strawberries?”
“Little boy, a few lovely apricots to take to school!”
“Come, boy, buy an apple! You now what they say about apples and doctors!”

The word started to sound right to him, though a bit disheartening. That was what he was. A boy. Just a boy. A nobody. Most people were nobodies, pretending to be somebodies by wearing a name. Only a few really became more than what the people in the market place called them. The rest – just numerous boys, girls, ladies and sirs. The boy wanted more than that. He hated monotony. He yearned for something exciting, something new, something magical. As he passed through the market, it seemed painfully dull to him, despite all the orange apricots, red apples, yellow lemons and green cucumbers. Colours were nothing in comparison to what he hoped for. He dreamed of dragons, fairies, and evil forces that had to be defeated. He wished to be a hero, brave and kind, loved by all.

Suddenly, an old man caught his attention. The man was wearing dirty, shapeless clothes, and begging for some money. He seemed completely grey, standing not so far from the colourful market. Some people passed by, but no one seemed to notice him.
The boy had nothing in his pockets. He wanted to become a hero, but now, he couldn’t even give some change to the poor old man. He felt embarrassed.

Well, the boy thought,  I may have no money, but at least I’ll show him that I see him. I will show him that I care.

With the widest, kindest smile, the boy turned to face the old beggar.
“Good morning!” he greeted him.
The old man raised his eyes, and the boy saw that he was smiling. The lines on his face started to fade. The old beggar jumped from joy, but when his feet touched the ground, he wasn’t an old man in rags anymore. His clothes were clean and white, and on his now golden hair proudly stood a royal crown.
“Magic!” the boy gasped.

A single “good morning” turned the beggar into a prince.

The Climb

Yes, I’ve been neglecting my blog for some time… The beginning of the school year is hard for teachers, too. XD Anyway, here’s something unpolished, a part of something I’ve been working on. I like this little detail about one of my characters. Meet Bastian! 😉


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If the door is impenetrable, there’s always a window to use.

That became some sort of a motto for Bastian. Climbing the walls was something he was very good at. It took him some years to become an expert, but he flattered himself that he had a natural talent for it.

The walls on the house were made of white stone, which was fashionable among rich people. Unfortunately, the stone was not left crude. It was completely smooth. Impossible to climb. Rich people liked everything to look sleek. There were no pipes or drains on the building’s facade. There were, however, large windows on the ground floor, because bright rooms were also fashionable. Those windows made of impenetrable glass, and connected to an alarm. They were, also, climbable.

Bastian first stepped on the bottom edge of the window. The windows had frames, also made of white stone, and were richly ornamented. The frame was quite narrow, but Bastian was good at keeping his balance. He was also tall. Just barely, he was able to reach the upper edge of the frame. As he held the frame firmly, he put his feet on the side of the frame and cautiously climbed up, pressing his feet at the frame and walking horizontally. Soon, he was standing on the upper edge of the frame, feeling proud of himself.

Who else could pull this off, eh?

He now had to reach for the first floor window, which was also huge, and quite far away. The difficult thing was not falling off the narrow edge. Bastian learned how to be careful. He was doing this for years. He started with simple houses in poorer neighbourhoods, and then gave himself bigger and bigger challenges. He was only caught once, when he was fifteen, to his parents’ great embarrassment. He didn’t actually steal anything, so they just had to pay a fine for his breaking in. It helped that they were influential people.

The window proved easy to open. The family wasn’t expecting anyone to break in though this window. It didn’t even have an alarm. Bastian entered the house. He was swept by the feeling of accomplishment. He still wasn’t sure how this unusual hobby came to his mind. Why did he love to break into random houses? Partially, because it was a challenge. He also liked that it was completely illegal. Breaking the rules made him feel strong.

Well, I’m done here. Off to my next stop.


Image courtesy of Pixabay.com