Picture This

Picture This: Episode 8

Episode 8 of my Picture This series comes to you during my small hiatus as I am away on holiday. However, I will reply to comments when I am back. I hope you enjoy this week’s episode.

Prompt:

My Interpretation:

They call us Summoners. We are here to keep up the illusion of ‘Earth’. Humans like routine, change is a big no no. We try to keep things plain sailing where possible.

I am in charge of the Sun. It must appear to rise and set. There are approximately three thousand of us Sun Summoners located throughout the world. We play our part to maintain the pretense. The humans can’t know the truth.


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Picture This

Picture This: Episode 7

As you know, I like to keep my Picture This posts relevant. Last week, I kept with a Halloween theme, and seeing as it was Bonfire Night yesterday, this short story will reflect that.

Prompt:

My Interpretation:

My mum likes to think herself a match maker, but she really has no clue. Last week, she set me up on a blind date with the new guy that started in her office. He sounded great on paper, but he kept wiping his nose on his sleeve and hand like a four year old.

She wanted me to meet her neighbour’s son tonight, but I outright refused. Her days as Cupid are over.

‘Fair enough, if you want to be a spinster with ten cats.’ I set to retort, but she holds up a hand. “It’s your life.”

“Thank you.”

She fills the kettle, her back to me. “But I already told Sheila we’d go to her firework party tonight.” She waves packets of sparklers at me.

I roll my eyes.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Don’t make me go alone.”

“Fine, but don’t leave me to make conversation with people I don’t know, and DO NOT try and set me up with anyone.”

She does a little victory jig and rushes up the stairs.

“I’ll finish the tea, shall I?”

“Do what you like. I’ve got to get ready.”

*****

Sheila’s party is a lot rowdier than I imagined for a bunch of fifty year olds. Is this what will happen to all of us in middle age? God, I hope not.

Mum is tipsy and waves at me from the kitchen, almost spilling her drink in the process. “My daughter is single if you are on the market?” she tells someone out of eyeshot. I can’t believe her, sometimes.

“Tori, come here and meet Sheila’s son, Aiden.’ And she has officially outdone herself.

I head into the kitchen, a rage boiling in my tummy. I turn the corner, expecting to see another mummy’s boy in need of a 2nd mother and not a girlfriend, but I physically stop dead in my tracks. Aiden is stunning. He leans against the counter and smiles as I enter. Did he see my mouth flop open? I bloody hope I don’t look like a drooling fool.

Mum hands me a glass of something bubbly. “Close your mouth, Sweetie. It is not very becoming.” She leaves the room, a smug air about her. ‘One nil to Mum,” she mutters with laugh.


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Picture This

Picture This: Episode 6

I’m sticking with the Halloween theme this week, seeing as the big night is tomorrow. I will say ‘Happy Halloween’ to you and wish you a fun, safe night.

Prompt:

My Interpretation:

We were turned young , so we stay young. It can be frustrating when I’m refused entry to a bar or club, knowing I’m thrice the age of the oldest doorman. It’s more than a frustration for Matthew; he can’t bear this life. He was just sixteen when we were turned. At least I was eighteen, not quite a child, nearly a woman. Living as an adult man trapped in a boy’s form has taken its toll on Matthew.

My brother’s sole mission in this life of longevity is learning how to end it. Thankfully, he has failed thus far, giving me time to find someway to make this life tolerable for him.

For the past six months, I have been travelling the world over to find her. It was hard because child vampires are not common, but if you know where to look and what to ask, nothing remains hidden. Samia is sixteen in looks, but similar to us in actual age, and she is keen to leave her little island and see the world as my travelling companion. Little does she know that she is to be my sister in law.


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Picture This: Episode 5

I can’t believe we are already at the halfway point of this series. Thanks for sticking with me for this long, and I hope you are enjoying this series so far.

The Prompt:

My Interpretation:

“So, how are you?” Sabre asks, the look of concern creasing a line in her brow.

I shrug.

“The dreams are back, right? Otherwise, why would you call me to meet at two in the A.M.”

I stir my coffee with one of those wooden sticks, purposefully avoiding her stare. “They feel so real, like I am only half asleep, and it really feels like there is someone in my apartment… my room.”

Sabre places a hand on mine. “Dreams usually mean something different than what they seem. I think stressing over work isn’t helping. You need to let them know why you are always tired.”

“And let them think I’m on the verge of a breakdown? No way. I fought tooth and nail for that job.” I lean back from my coffee in frustration. “I actually called you because I knew you’d be up and I need distracting.”

Sabre gives an enthusiastic nod of the head. “You’re right. Let’s change the subject.” She clocks my phone on the table. “Did you get any good pics of the Christmas party? All mine are crap.”

I hand over my phone and wait patiently as she scrolls through the camera roll. Eventually, she pauses, clearly scrutinising one of the pictures. She is probably about to scolf me for taking an unflattering one of her.

“Did Freya crash at your place that night?” she asks.

“No, why?”

She zooms in on something and throws the phone across the table at me with a gasp. “Oh, my God!”

I pick up the phone and see a picture of myself sleeping in the bed. It feels as if a clamp has tightened on my chest. “How? Who could ..?”

Sabre taps the screen with shaking hands. “Zoom in on the mirror behind the bed.”

I do what she says with my heart in my throat. The reflection is of a man in a hooded coat holding my phone up in front of his face as he takes the picture. The same man I see in my so called dreams.”


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Picture This

Picture This: Episode 4

I saw this stock picture and just had to use it. It jumped out at me for being equally amusing and creepy.

Feel free to join in with your own interpretation.

Picture Prompt:

My Interpretation:

The thought of going into work again makes me feel physically sick. I can’t look at that building and not regret the live I should have… still could have if I had the balls and the devil may care attitude of someone ten years younger and no mortgage.

I don’t even like my colleagues. Pretending to be happy advising the rich what to spend their money on when our salary barely affords us a weekend break away every two years.

I tell myself the same thing every morning. ‘Go in, do my job, get paid.’ I am saving for early retirement, every extra pound goes toward getting out of the rat race. And that means not spending my lunchbreaks down the pub with the team.

Suki invites me every day, and every day I tell her the same excuse. ‘Thanks, but I have got to pop home and let the human out.’

As if I own a human. Those things are way to high maintenance. My mum’s human still hasn’t learnt to shit on the garden yet.


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Picture This

Picture This: Episode 3

Welcome back for another Picture This post. Please, feel free to join in with your own interpretation of the prompt. Be sure to tag me in your post, so I can have a read or leave it in the comments.

Prompt:

My Interpretation:

I should have paid more attention to when he held my hand. That may sound silly and trivial, but looking back, it was vital.

The first time he held my hand was when I accompnaied him on his business trip to London. I thought it was sweet, walking down the road hand in hand, making a point of our love to those passing by.

But a pattern quickly was established. He took me on a mini break to Scotland and his hand never left mine. A long weekend in the Lake District. Two nights in a cottage in Cornwall. He was so much more affectionate then… when we weren’t at home.

I did notice, but I put it down to him not wanting to be affectionate in front of people he knew. I mean, he was a private man, very private it seems. Still, I should have paid more attention, but you know how those rose tinted glasses can be.

Of course, there were other signs I missed, but the hand holding thing now bugs me and taunts me, letting me know I was a fool.

However, I was ignorant until the last sign – the smack in the guts sign- the sign that finally knocked those glasses clean off my face. Well, perhaps not so much a sign as a nasty, devastating realisation.

His wife.


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Picture This

Picture This: Episode 2

Thank you for coming back for another episode of Picture This. Remember, you are welcome to join in and create your own interpretation of the prompt.

Prompt:

My Interpretation:

I have laid the trap just as he asked. I daren’t do otherwise. I hate this, I hate this stupid cape, and this stupid game.

He calls himself The Wolf. I know him by no other name, but he must have had a mother, a real name, no matter how far he has fallen since.

The door to the cottage is flung open and he prowls down the steps snarling in my direction. “Is it done?” I nod in reply. “And they followed you?”

I nod again.

He cranes his neck as if sniffing the air. “Get inside and keep your mouth shut.”

He need not say it out loud. I know the drill. Lure them, trap them, and leave the rest to him. I also know I am an accomplice to murder, but if not them it will surely be me.

The poor lady that stopped for me when I fell at the side of the road… a little bit of vomit catches in my throat at the thought. I’m a pro at making it look realistic. She offered me food and water, and I ate it so quickly my famished stomach cramped from the sudden intake of food.

When I spun her the story of my living in the woods alone, she looked genuinely concerned. I mean, they all look concerned, but she actually offered to take me back to the city and call the police.

I cried as I jogged back into the woods, knowing she followed. I cry now as I hang my cape on the hook outside the door as a beacon in the gloom before I head inside. I cry as I burrow into my blankets and hold a pillow over my head to block out any sound other than my own heartbeat and sobs.

I will cry all night because there is never an end. For next week, The Wolf will make me do it all over again.


I went with this twist on the Little Red Riding hood faitytale as the gloom and sinister feel to the image inspired me.


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