Week 8 participating in the very popular #vss365 challenge on Twitter. The aim. To write a daily Very Short Story in less than 280 characters, a single tweet. Yes, that’s characters! Not words.
The prompts themselves are seemingly random single words, the whim of this month’s challenge setter. This months fun has been organised by @Tianna. I’ve taken some liberties with formatting simply because WordPress is not Twitter and to make it easier to read.
The cover photo this week is of Rochester Cathedral, where better for a giant game of Cluedo. Great fun even if we did come plumb last.
For 400 years Kent had been the #garden of England.
Now an anachronism at best.
The car park of England would be a more accurate accolade,
its orchards and hop gardens buried under steel and concrete.
There’d always be the white cliffs though,
shame about the bluebirds.
Night and day were meant to be in balance at the #equinox.
That had been the deal, forever.
Night, however, had grown greedy,
impatient for the cold embrace of winter it had sneaked an extra few seconds.
Day was incandescent with rage, dawn was a minute early the next day.
“Go, I will draw their #fire!”
He threw himself into action, a flurry of dust.
She didn’t need a second invitation, melting into the shadows.
“Give it up,” hollered the ring leader, “You’re out!”
“We’ll see about that,” was his reply.
He still had one orange pastel left!
Deep in enemy territory, the raider breathed out slowly.
Picking his target, with well practised cunning, he struck.
The pack reacted instantly, descending on him as he twisted and ran.
Heart beating, legs pumping, he strained every #sinew to escape their grasp.
He swore it would not #consume him, that this time he’d find the right balance.
He’d learn from the mistakes of the past and pace himself.
Pick his words carefully and weave them with precision.
280 characters it was always a challenge, but nothing would stop him this ti
“How’s it looking?”
“Well, this batch is all 13.8 billion years. All are thriving, except one.”
He held up one of the small spheres, a #universe spun slowly within.
“No intelligence at all?”
“Well, there’s one planet here,” he zoomed in. “Ah, scratch that!”
I will not say his name, in case he stirs within his slumber.
The #chthonic God sees me, dreams me.
I need not give him cause to plunder.
I’ll tiptoe quietly, carefully, through my days.
I shall not be the one to awake the great old one.
Damn it! Shhhhh!