For Whom The Bell Tolls

Cat, Alley, Street, Stray, Animal

A single bell tolled from the tower. It’s rhythm was slow and melancholy, giving the abandoned streets an even eerier feel.

“Who’s ringing the bell?” Andryn asked absent-mindedly.

“Beats me,” replied Bryn.

The two troopers continued up the cobbled road past piles of detritus. Here and there were splatters of blood, and much of the masonry was scarred by missle strikes, and some doors still were punctuated by arrows.

“I wonder where the bodies are?” Andryn mused aloud as he switched the reins of his trailing horse to his other hand.

“I was wondering that too,” Bryn replied. “There doesn’t seem to be any in the street, and there was no evidence of graves on our way into town. Maybe everyone survived.”

“Or they are all in a heap somewhere,” his friend retorted.

“Maybe we shoud be check that bell out,” Bryn suggested.

“The sergeant said wait for the column,” Andryn reminded him.

Just then Bryn caught a glimpse of quick movement out of the corner of his eye and drew his sword by reflex. A cat then shot out of the alleyway and clammered over a wooden fence.

“Nervey?” Andryn asked.

“No, just cautious. There is something not quite right about this place.”

“The horses don’t seem bothered,” Andryn observed. “That’s always a good sign.”

The pair soon arrived at the town square and discovered what seemed to be a make shift barricade. It too was abandoned.

“What do we do now?” Andryn asked.

“Wait, I guess,” his mate replied.

The two tethered their mounts and sat against the barricade. Andryn handed his comrade a couple of hard biscuits and a lump of cheese, and they ate as the sun declined westwards.

“Crappy last meal,” Bryn said with a smile, nudging his friend with an elbow.

Andryn gazed at the setting sun, and then down the road where the column should arrive from. “Crappy indeed,” he replied without any mirth, and placed his sword across his lap.


The Long Drove

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Sister and brother, Deana and Don continued down the long drove. They had been told there was a rave at an abandoned house at the end of the tree-lined lane.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Deana challenged.

“It’s right were it is supposed to be,” he replied holding up the hand drawn map his friend Kevin had made for him. “We came off Forest Street, and turned onto the third left.”

“Well it has been going on forever,” she complained. “Look, we have been on this stupid lane for twenty minutes,” she said checking her watch. “Ring Kevin now, and double check.”

“There’s no signal,” Don said.

Deana took out her phone as well. “I don’t have one either,” she said with obvious frustration.

“Uh oh. I don’t like this,” Don said. “Isn’t that the orange peel you dropped ten minutes ago?” he said pointing.

“Can’t be,” Deana replied uncertainly. “We’ve been walking straight ahead and their haven’t any turnings.”

It’s been ten years since they were last seen. They would be 26 and 27 now.


Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner

Sorry, but I am still in Gothic – Halloween mode.

Gothic 22: Maiden

Twas the ship’s maiden voyage

And a maiden too was me

On that fateful evening 

When I first went to sea

How could I have known

That on that night I’d die

So I wander here upon shore

Seeking the answer as to why

If you spy me on the sand

Do not fright and run away

And if you feel my clammy touch

I only wish for you to stay

And if my cold fingers grip you

I do not mean to offend

I am only taking you seaward

To be my forever friend



Gothic 18: All Hallows’ Eve

Ghost, Halloween, Horror, Bride, White, Death

All Holies’ Day is not yet here

A year has passed since the last one

And now the saintly power gives way to fear

As Teens play with evil just for fun

Late into the evening they shall walk

Lighted pumpkins before the doors

Laughing at powers of which they baulk

Little understanding their horrors

As on them night closes like a pall

Adorned in masks, they think disguise

Aware not of the presence mal

Among them those Teens unwise

So in their revelry they shall go

Still unaware of the risks

Surprised they shall be when they come to know

Strong cold fingers seizing their wrists


A little mood setting for Halloween in the form of a Trolaan (a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab, and each successive stanza beginning with second letter of the previous stanza.

Gothic 16: Girl at the Gate

Gothic, Woman, Fantasy, Female, Model, Young, Portrait

Did you see her standing there

By the gate along the way?

Many a traveler says they have

But seldom by the light of day

And for those that do – icy tingles shoot

Along the length of their spine

And though they see her standing there

For others – there is of her no sign

Are you one of the chosen few

To be summoned by the mistress of the gate?

If you are wise you should move quickly by

Before it is too late