MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “writing prompt”

Suspicious clues

©Dale Rogerson

There were three clues that raised Mrs Harris’ suspicions that night. Firstly, the whole town was snowed-in for two days. That would have been almost “normal” had it not been the middle of April. Then, when the snowplow finally passed through, it was accompanied by the police, firemen and an ambulance. They all had their sirens off.

In fact, the entire town was plunged into silence that night.

The third thing that was out-of-place was a black garbage bag, tightly sealed and thrown out of the opposite window right on to the packed snow.

And then a power cut occurred.

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Marked hearts

©Roger Bultot

“Do you remember this part of our walk on our first date, when we timidly held hands? I was trembling with excitement. Your smile illuminated the entire cloister.

And then I turned and looked into your eyes. They were sparkling.

I still remember our first kiss. How can I ever forget?

You came into my life for a brief moment and left your mark on it forever”.

She held the old photo in hand and read his handwritten letter as she walked along the cloister.

It took him a decade to find her.

And now she had come to him.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Not what you’re expecting

©Ronda Del Boccio

Life is full of surprises”. It was the phrase that he remembered most from the first book he read as a child.

They weren’t always good ones, but something unexpected always happened.

Just when you think you’ve got things straightened out. Just when you think you can finally take a breath and relax. Just when you’re calm. Right then something happens to remind you that there is nothing routine about life. You can never plan anything.

And just anything can happen. At anytime.

Like that fire that broke out in the middle of the night and burnt the forest down.

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Movie threads

©Sandra Crook

Movies have the purpose of showing you something you wouldn’t otherwise see. Of making you travel. Of getting your mind to work”.

Grandpa Jo worked in the movie industry ever since he could remember. He always had interesting stories to tell.

But it was Grandma Jemma who had the wisest words to share.

Movies are like threads,” she said spinning her wheel. “They need a beginning, a middle, and an end. No matter how short or long, they all have it”.

And if you follow the thread from start to finish, you’re bound to find yourself in a different place!

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A Wheel ride

©Dale Rogerson

There is a saying that if you don’t like the way things are, change your point of view. You are bound to see things differently.

She hoped that would work when she asked him to go to the fair, simply for a ride on the Ferris Wheel.

With the city landscape covered by nightfall and the colourful lights beaming, they suddenly became more tranquil. As if all the tension and stress were lifted, as the Wheel began to turn.

I’m sorry,” he said, as he placed her hand inside his.

It didn’t make everything OK, but it was a start.

Also part  of Friday Fictioneers

A piano simile

©Anshu Bhojnagarwala

When we come into this world, we are the centre of attention for months, maybe years. Everything and everyone focuses around us. The same is true for new objects that come into our possession.

Like a piano for a musical enthusiast.

It is placed in a dominant position in the room for all to admire. Beautiful melodies sound out of its keys.

Until it grows old and the fascination for it passes with time.

It is considered a given now.

Until one day, neglected for so long, it is dumped.

The same is often unfortunately true for our old people.

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Feline females

©CEAyr

Her name was Saphire because of the colour of her eyes. She was independent, wanted attention but not too much and only on her terms and her mood-swings were unpredictable. If you ignored her, she would find a way to make her presence felt. It usually involved something you held dear.

Last night, she was upset you came in and didn’t devote to her the attention you deprived her of all day. She held that anger until this morning, when you woke up and couldn’t find her.

Until you did. Sitting on your scooter. Waiting. You were supposed to understand.

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Dare, if you will

©Jean L. Hays

If you don’t ask, you’ll never know”. Christian sighed. He was playing restlessly with his fingers. It was obvious agitation had the better of him. He stood silent staring at the old warehouse.

Well, go on, will you? You won’t know unless you go for it”. His friend was urging him forward but he wouldn’t move.

For someone with so much ambition, he scared too easily.

Fine, I’ll go and ask”, but as soon as the threat became real, Christian woke up and marched inside.

It turns out the warehouse was for rent after all. It was his first atelier.

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The meaning we give

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was on the dining table. A constant remind of the feelings that characterised that house. Passion, love, caring, sensitivity.

Inundated with colour, the crystal vase featured seven gold-tipped roses. Perfectly stemmed, with petals opened just enough to demonstrate their purity and elegance; the roses were a gift from the heart.

They enclosed a memory of a day overwhelmed with emotions, happiness and optimism. Of a day that brimmed of hope for what was to come. For a future full of colour and love.

They were an everyday cue that love is just a word until someone gives it meaning.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Acts of Kindness

©Renee Heath

How can we turn that frown upside down?” Grandfather asked the young boy with his right hand extended before him. In it was a red candy-stick. The boy immediately smiled as he grabbed the sweet.

It was incidents like this that had remained imprinted in memory.

Like a hot beverage to soothe a bleeding soul. Or a tight hug from a person you loved to make the troubles go away.

It was even excursions for camping in the mountains to clear your head.

Eventually, he realised it was not the things themselves that mattered. It was the acts of kindness.

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