“It may look old and unused, but this is where they are kept.”
“You better be right, Sargent. It has taken us a long time not only to find this place but also to get here. Our troops need to rest tonight. I recommend we rest and plan our attack in the morning.”
***
12 hours later.
“We’re lucky to have found somewhere they think it is safe to store their data. Most of them never think twice about losing everything. Not everything is safe, but they should have done all they could to keep it safe and secure. The troops are ready, Commander.”
‘Good. On my command, we will begin the attack and wipe out most of the world of blogging from the face of this planet. We may be small and invisible to most, Sargent. Still, we are evolving and becoming more resilient against whatever virus software they throw at us.”
“Commander, let us hope that not many of them have ever backed up their blogs. And of those that do, let us hope they did it once and then forgot to do any further backups. Troops, on my command, let us attack and infect WordPress. ATTACK!”
Image Credit: Sue Vincent
Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.
“But stones can’t move on their own. Something or someone must have moved it? The instruments onboard the ship did pick up a small tremor last night.”
Moving towards the nearest stone, Miles bent down while pointing towards the ground to the right of the first stone.
“Looks like something either pushed or pulled this stone. If the ship’s camera had been working, I’d have the proof that this stone is nearer the ship than it was yesterday. Mission-control is taking too long figuring out what’s caused the camera to fail.
Shaking her head, Hilary bent down besides Miles and examined the ground.
“It must be alive,” cautioned Miles. These marks in the ground clearly show it has moved. Yet there’s no evidence to say that someone or something has moved it. I thought you said there was no evidence of life on this planet, Hilary. Without any signs of H2O, you said nothing could survive here.”
Consisting of at least 50% of water, the human visitors had no chance when the stone struck. Not even their spacesuits helped protect them.
As the other stones slid slowly towards the bodies to feast on the liquid nectar they needed to survive, the dusty, dry planet started to become alive again.
While decomposing flesh helped plant life grow instantly, the sound of a ‘click’ from the ship’s now repaired camera sent back the first image of a beautiful, welcoming, new world.
Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Click here to participate.
All had been quiet in David’s garden. In fact, everything was perfect. Even all the people he’d just been chatting to around the big table had seemed happy.
However, after a particularly busy morning, he’d come out into his back garden to get some fresh air and to take in the perfection he thought he had created over the last six years.
While walking into some shade, to stop the hot sun from melting his face (climate change was something else David needed to tackle), the beautiful little house, he liked to call his ‘man cave’, had come into view.
Image credit: Sue Vincent
He hadn’t been down there for some time, ever since he had discovered the monster at the bottom of his garden. His so-called friend, Nigel, had claimed he had created the monster. How David had managed to get Nigel’s horrible monster into his ‘man cave’ all on his own, he had no idea.
“Should I go and listen by the door?” David had asked himself. “It should be dead by now because it hasn’t eaten anything since I locked it in there.”
Creeping quickly towards the door of his man cave (to stop the sun melting his face), David had put his ear close to the door and listened intensely, but all he had heard was birdsong and the faint sound of traffic.
“Hello. Are you dead, Mr Monster?” David had whispered, but his question had been met with no response from inside the man cave.
Taking a key out of his trouser pocket, David had carefully unlocked the door and turned the handle. As it had creaked open, the monster inside had made its move and burst through. It wasn’t long before David had been gobbled up and never heard from again.
“Yum, yum” the Brexit Monster had growled, “a tasty human man. I do hope my next meal is a female human.”
***
(Almost)Three years later
All had been quiet in Theresa’s garden. In fact, in her eyes, everything was going to be perfect. But what was in that strange little building, the previous owner, David, had called his man cave, at the bottom of the garden of 10 Downing Street?
Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.
Click here to follow my ‘Entertaining Stories ‘ magazine on Flipboard.
“As you’re an author and writer, I thought this would be the perfect new home for you, Mr Roberts.”
“Oh, I already love it. How old is it? Of course, I’ll need to see the inside, but I like what I already see.”
Image credit: Sue Vincent
“It’s over 200 years old. The seller has instructed me to accept any offers just below the asking price. If you make an offer today, I’ll ensure it’s taken off the market.”
“Perfect. I’m going to get so much inspiration and so many new ideas for my next novel by living here.”
***
Twenty minutes later.
“Sign here, Mr Roberts. All being well, you’ll be in tomorrow. The current resident has already left. She was delighted when I told her you were the buyer.”
“Wonderful. I hope she’ll be happy in her new place. I can’t wait to start using that huge, dark study in the attic. I wonder how long it’ll be before I have my first visitors?”
•••
It wasn’t long before I had my first visitors. Two days after moving in, I watched the new owners of my new home move in. A family of four; the two children under the age of six, they couldn’t see or hear me as I watched them unpack boxes.
The ‘Hauntings’ Estate agents had come up trumps in finding me my next place to haunt.
Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.
“Come on, I’ll show you where unicorns come
from,” said a convincing, eight-year-old, Tracy.
“Is it very far?” asked her best
friend, Allison.
“No, just a few minutes’ walk, over to that small wood,” Tracy pointed out. “The grown-ups won’t miss us. We’ll only be gone for a few minutes.”
As the two young girls walked away, their parents enjoyed a picnic that included several bottles of sparkling, English, white wine. Helped by the warm sunshine of a late summers’ day, the laughter and merriment that filled the meadow made the slow disappearance of the girls go unnoticed.
“This is the place,” Tracy decided, as she peered towards a leafy, green glade, at the centre of which was an old, moss-covered stone trough.
Image credit: Sue Vincent
“But where are the unicorns?” asked
Allison. “I can’t see them.”
“In there,” responded Tracy, as she
pointed towards the old, moss-covered stone trough. “Go on, have a
look,” she smiled, as she gently pushed the girl who was one month younger
than her towards the trough.
Taking a few quick steps towards the
moss-covered stone relic, a slightly chilly breeze blew through the red ribbon
that sat on top of golden curls that always bobbed up and down whenever Allison
accelerated from a gentle walking pace. With goosebumps populating her bare
arms, she peered down into the shallow trough.
“I can’t see any unicorns, only green stuff
and a few yellow leaves,” sighed Allison.
“You’re not looking closely enough,”
laughed Tracy, as she walked towards Allison. “Can’t you see the rainbow
coloured horn of the baby unicorn poking through?”
Placing her hands on her knees, Allison bent
forward to take a closer look, but couldn’t see any evidence of a rainbow
coloured horn.
“No,” replied, Allison. “All I
can see is green stuff and a few fallen leaves.”
“Oh, you won’t find the unicorns in there,” came a voice that startled both girls. “I’ve moved them all to a safe place. It’s unsafe for them in there.”
Turning around, both girls raised their hands to protect their eyes from the glare of the sun that occasionally flashed through the branches of the trees that surrounded the old trough.
“I’m the Unicorn Keeper,” declared the figure with a long grey beard, and who Tracy thought looked like a wizard. “The unicorns are all safe. I can take you to them in my magical vehicle if you like? It’s just over the hill on the other side of the meadow. Come on, take my hands and I’ll take you to them,” he said, as he turned to walk away in a direction that would take the girls out-of-sight of their parents.
Several minutes later, as the two unicorn-loving girls walked hand in hand with the stranger who seemed like a very nice wizard, he told them stories of a magical place he was taking them to, where nice things were about to happen, and where there would be unlimited ice-cream.
Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.
There’s something about the eeriness it creates that keeps me outdoors rather than sat indoors in front of a screen.
Today was no different. I’d taken my camera with me in the hope of snapping some eerie shots that would get my creative cogs whirling.
It was just before the light gave way to the twilight that I decided I’d better go home.
Although the next day had been forecast to be another foggy day, I had decided I needed one more photo.
Turning to my left, the scene before me was perfect.
An upward slope shrouded in the fog would make the perfect photo; a photo I’d use for my next book cover.
As I focused the camera towards the top of the slope, I noticed a figure looking down at me.
Photo credit: Sue Vincent
I immediately lowered my camera and kept my eyes focused on where the figure was standing, yet it wasn’t there.
It must have been a trick of the light, or maybe the fog?
I raised the camera again, ready to focus on the top of the foggy slope, when I was startled by what I saw in the viewfinder.
The same figure, standing there. Yet when I lowered the camera, the figure was gone.
A cold sweat swept over my entire body. That was when a plan came to me.
I aimed the camera towards the top of the slope so that if the figure appeared, I could use the viewfinder to walk towards it.
My luck was in. The figure was there, so I began my walk up the slope.
Halfway up, my arms began to ache, forcing me to bring the camera down. The ‘watcher’, as I had now named the figure, had disappeared.
Raising the camera up, the watcher, once again, appeared in the viewfinder. This time I was determined not to bring my camera down.
The ‘watcher’ became a blur as I got closer to it, but I kept walking.
By the time I reached it, nothing but a hazy, thick, off-white fog had filled the viewfinder.
Lowering the camera, I was faced with nothing but the sight of fog and the sound of waves.
Behind me, something stirred.
I span around.
“You’re it!,” were the words that came out of the mouth of the most repulsive creature I’d ever seen.
Then it pushed me.
As I fell off the edge of the cliff, towards the sounds of the crashing waves, my eyes were briefly focused on the creature as it looked down at me.
“YOU”RE IT!”, it kept on screaming.
I closed my eyes and waited for the coldness of the sea to smash into my body, yet no impact came.
When I finally got the courage to open my eyes, I found myself looking down a foggy slope, at you!
You were looking up at me through a camera and began to climb towards me.
“You’re it,” I repeatedly murmured to myself.
Will you be ‘it’ for me?
***
Written in response to the #writephoto challenge, hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Click here to join hundreds of other writers who have taken up the challenge.
Click here to follow my Entertaining Stories magazine on Flipboard.
Hugh's Views & News 