This photograph was taken by Dawn M. Miller.
Another week has almost passed, dear readers, and that has brought more ruminating and writing and more editing and brainstorming. Please bear with me as I suss out the scope and schedule of this blog so it’s not so irregularly themed and timed.
For now, I’ll leave you with another brief piece submitted for a different flash fiction writing prompt challenge I discovered today, called Friday Fictioneers. Using the photograph by photographer Dawn M. Miller, which was posted on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Addicted to Purple blog, challengers are to write a fully realized 100-word story with an end, beginning, and middle. I am not sure if the deadline is Friday or if it is posted by Fridays; however, the light bulb for the story crackled to life in my mind (pardon the pun), so I decided to take a stab at it even though I’m late for Friday.
This microfiction piece was challenging in that I couldn’t just plate up a solitary slice of time-pie, but I had to give you the whole, big (she)bang of the story arc in a mere century. I’m not terribly confident I succeeded with a real, flesh-and-blood flash-fiction story, but it was a fun springboard in any case. As ever, please feel free to offer suggestions or share your submissions, or both. In the meantime, happy writing and I’ll be back soon with some fiction not submitted for challenges!
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White Shadows
Genre: Microfiction/flash fiction; possibly suspense
© Leigh Ward-Smith, 2014
“What should we do, Luci?”
The tortoiseshell purred plaintively.
“I can’t believe the shed collapsed on our bulbs! And Fiat Lux is all out; I e-mailed,” David spoke aloud. He lived alone, so there was no reason to hide his words under a basket.
During a morning spent triple-checking lamps and locks, he had looked out the window and spied the damage.
As each lamp died that day, he chanted Nothing’s gonna take my last light. Come night, the survivors’ shadows weren’t enough to barricade him against the formlessness where his father took shape and sinewy arms wouldn’t let go.
Leigh's Wordsmithery 
Dear Leigh,
It’s my hope that you’ll be able to get the InLinkz to work for you. More reads that way. 😉
Your story is a mysterious. It seems the lamps are David’s defense against a supernatural darkness. Am I warm?
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers. I look forward to more from you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Shalom to you as well, Rochelle. I’m glad to be participating. Thank you for your comments; I like that this piece is mysterious (I will take it as a compliment!). It’s such a challenge for me to be succinct–and yet to tell a complete story, if I can. I’m not entirely sure the direction David’s story would take if I were to encourage it to grow. I kind of envisioned the father (who can become kind of supernatural, or of mythic proportions, even) as the force David was having to contend with, to dispel the shadows of the past. But I guess I’ll have to wait and see if David nudges me again in one direction or the other (or else, I will take up his story again, regardless of the prodding!). It was definitely a disconcerting and sinister place that I was operating from, when I wrote it from David’s POV. In any case, thank you for the warm welcome. Best regards, and happy writing!