Picture Prompt 03/08/17

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Here is another of my Instagram picture prompts for you to get creative with. I invite you to have a go at writing a sentence/paragraph/short story to accompany the picture. Remember to link your post back to me, so I can read your creations and spotlight them in the next picture prompt post.

You can find me on Instagram by following this link.

Prompt:

Copy of K.J. CHAPMAN

“Read the note again.” Denny walks two paces ahead, rucksack hanging from the one shoulder. He has a nervous energy about him, but the fact that he is trying to conceal it puts me on edge.

“I’ve read it ten times already. It isn’t going to have changed in the last five minutes,” I say. He turns and glowers over his shoulder in that big-brotherly way that says ‘don’t make me beat on you’. “Pack a bag, walk to the special place, and find the red amongst the green. The past and future awaits you there.”

Denny brushes his shaggy, blonde hair out of his eyes. “And this was hand delivered?”

“Yes,” I snap, sick of recounting the same thing over and over. “There isn’t a stamp. See?”

He ignores me, choosing to pick up his pace.

We come to our special place; the lake where Dad used to bring us fishing as kids. I usually only come back here on anniversaries: birthdays, the day he died. Instantly, Denny points to the mass of fallen trees. The red leaves on one particular tree jar against the greens surrounding it.

“This is it,” Denny says, rushing to the bushes. He digs about in the brush, pulling out a box wrapped in plastic. “How I have prayed for this,” he cries with delight.

He rips open the parcel, marvelling at an ornate, wooden box. I have never seen it before, but clearly this means something to Denny.

“Prayed for what? What is this? Is this a game- a hoax?”

Denny opens the box, breaths ragged and shallow. Inside is a gold coin- doubloon like in appearance. “I thought they were all destroyed.” He starts half sobbing, half laughing. “I can’t believe it. This means–”

“What is that? Who left it?” I ask. “Denny, you’re scaring me.”

Picking up the coin in the cloth it is wrapped in, Denny grips my arm and pulls me toward him. “This is our ticket home, Tia. It is time for you to remember.”

He presses the coin to my forehead, and a searing pain ignites behind my eyes. I have surely fainted for all is black for a moment before a kaleidoscope of colours rushes through my mind’s eye.

I awake on my back, Denny leaning over me in concern. It is as if I’m am looking at him for the first time. “You’re not my brother,” I whisper.

Denny laughs into the air. “Not by blood, no. I think I’ve earned the title, though. What do you say?”

My thoughts clear a little more. Denny aka Dennison Harvey was on my father’s guard. I was entrusted to his care when… “Oh, shit! I remember,” I gasp out loud.

“That’s no language for a Princess to use,” he says, nudging me playfully.

“He altered my memories, so I wouldn’t return home. That’s why the Queen tried to destroy all the remaining coins. My father must still be alive, Denny.”

I stand, brushing the dirt from my clothes, and Denny kneels with bowed head. The familiarity of such an action is like another piece of the puzzle slotting into place- my memory weaving itself back together.

“Get up, you idiot. You’ve been my brother for the past four years, that doesn’t stop now. Pass me that coin, I’m taking us home.”


Content belongs to K.J. Chapman

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