I have something a little different for you today.
Each week, Ivy Walker hosts a Six Sentence Story link-up over at her blog. Writers use a one-word prompt to develop a bit of flash fiction just six sentences in length. I have been writing mine over the last few weeks, but the last couple have not made it here to the blog. Life gets in the way sometimes, you know? Rather than allow those stories to languish in my drafts folder unfinished, I’ve collected them here in one place today.
The three stories stand as individuals, connected only by the theme of Choices.
“The writing is hard today,” Jim said to the room as he pushed himself back from the desk and rummaged in the lap drawer for a sharpener and some inspiration.
It seemed foolish to sharpen a pencil when no words would come, but there was something about a freshly-sharpened pencil that took him back to his Kindergarten classroom and days when writing was brand new, something fascinating and powerful in is capacity to turn his ideas into a reality he could hold in his hand. An old metal sharpener stood bolted to the windowsill in that room positioned such that an imaginative five year old might stare out at the world as he absently turned the crank, honing a slender piece of ochre-coated wood to readiness.
The small plastic rectangle he found in the back of the drawer was a far cry from the magnificent machine of his childhood, but it would have to do. Jim slowly turned the wood against the tiny blade until it moved without resistance, then blew the shavings away.
A stack of forgotten things on the corner of his desk offered up an empty notebook; he opened the cover, smiled, and touched the point to the waiting page.
On days like today, Mitch allowed himself to indulge in regret.
Rain had the power to pull the knot of buried secrets up from his gut into his brain and splattered them freshly bleeding on the ground. He often had to turn his eyes away, afraid that some karmic sorcery might somehow turn his memory of the past into a physical present.
He knew the flowers would be there, a vivid reminder that his decision was the reason life spilled red upon that stretch of road and mixed with the rain. Knives of white lightning slashed open the sky that night and cast a spectral spotlight on the figure of a man struggling under his bloody, rain-soaked burden.
Thunder was the only voice that cried at that funeral.
The mouth of the cave yawned dark and wide before the boys as they approached, the doorway they discovered yesterday just visible in the light from outside.
“We can’t go in there,” said Tim, his voice giving away his uneasiness.
“Why not?” snapped Joe. “It’s not like it’s the doorway to hell or anything – hell is down and we’re going up.”
A cold wind seeped from the area of the doorway and wrapped itself around them while shadows whispered in their ear of the secrets that lay beyond the doorway.
“Come on, let’s go…”
Each week, the lovely and talented Ivy Walker hosts a link-up challenging writers to spin a tale in six sentences – no more, no less.
This week I’ve collected three separate stories in one post using the prompts POINT, FAULT, and ENTRANCE.
Click on the link right here to link your own post and read more Six Sentence Stories from some wonderful storytellers.