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12/27/2015 0 Comments The flood150 word flash fiction from prompt word: "wave"
The smell made her gag. The flood waters, far from washing everything clean, had coated every treasured belonging in a thick sludge of sewage. A wave of despair threatened to drown her. There was nothing left, nothing salvageable. She needed air. The door, hanging almost off its hinges, squeaked a sullen protest as she pushed past. An echoing squeak responded. Startled, she looked anxiously around, the age-old fear of rats clamouring in her head. Silence. No sign of movement. Fear and grief battled for control, leaving her helpless. She stood, immobile, and wept, a stricken woman in a sea of desolation. The sound came again, from above. Bleakly, she lifted her head. A sodden cat, shivering, peered down from her shattered wardrobe. She reached up. The cat leapt into her arms, its bullet head thrusting against her cheek in thanks. Warmth and a spark of hope.
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AuthorI spent most of my life not realising I was a writer. I just thought everybody's minds worked like mine. On some level I had a vague idea that the conversations with people who weren't there might just put me in the crazy category, so I kept quiet. Besides, the people in my head were usually more interesting which was never going to win me friends out there in the reality sphere. Fiction has always seemed to offer more interest than the real world and finally I realised - this is how writers think! Normal people don't have these thoughts. So, I had the imagination and the crazy thoughts. The only thing needed to turn me into a writer was to put pen to paper... Or, in my case, fingers to keypad. Here goes! Archives
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