Tag Archives: #writephoto

#writephoto – Dark

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Sue Vincent’s #writephoto is a wonderful source of inspiration, and this week she’s shared this beautiful photo as her prompt. She also shared another post, Breaking the Rules, which featured an interpretation of a Pablo Neruda poem that really spoke to me. The words that came to me were inspired by both of them. And here they are:

Darkness falls

Or does it rise?

From silver lakes

In hollow hills

Cradled in

A giant’s hand

Long fingers reach

Beyond the stars

Leave your cares

Leave work

Leave the slow death behind

Follow the water

As it gleams

I wait for you

To join me here

Where time itself

Slows and stills

Ride with me

Through valleys deep

And let us dance

Beneath the stars

Leave your cares

Leave work

Leave the slow death behind

Follow the water

To your dreams

Darkness rises

And it falls

And nothing is

Quite as it seems

Enjoyed this post? Want to read more? Find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, Under Stone (Ambeth Chronicles #4), is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

And don’t forget to get your Bloggers Bash tickets – follow this link to join the fun 🙂

#writephoto Sanctuary

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Sue Vincent’s #writephoto is one of my favourite blog writing prompts. The photos she chooses are always so inspiring, and she gets such a variety of responses to the same image. I don’t always get a story but, when I do, they come immediately. This one appeared when I saw her image for this week:

‘So, this is the place?’

The man grinned, revealing chipped and blackened teeth, his hair blonde against the blood-spattered furs he wore. His similarly-attired companion shrugged.

‘It is.’

‘Some sanctuary. It doesn’t even have a door.’

‘Huh. C’mon. This is where she’ll be.’

They moved towards the small building, their boots crunching against the snow. More flakes swirled around them, catching in their long tangled hair, melting on the iron blades they carried.

***

She watched them approach, fear closing her throat. There was no one left to hear if she screamed, anyway. She closed her eyes, willing herself to stay still, pushing aside her grief. When she got through this, if she got through this, there would be time enough to mourn.

She could hear their breathing as they stepped between the pillars, the clank of their weapons.

They entered the sanctuary.

It seemed as though the forest itself held its breath.

‘What the-‘

From her hiding place she heard a clatter of metal on stone, then a thud. A tear escaped from under her closed eyelids. They had destroyed the offerings, from the sound of it. The bronze bowl she used for scrying now taken as a spoil of war, the stone pillar on which it had rested knocked over.

Anger curled in her stomach, combining with the fear. She felt sick. But there was nothing she could do except wait, and hope.

***

‘She’s gone.’

‘Bitch probably ran into the woods.’

‘Hehe, yeah. She won’t get far.’

‘Let’s go. If the wolves don’t get her, we will.’

They left the small temple, stopping in one final act of desecration to urinate across the threshold, laughing as their piss hit the snow. Then they disappeared among the trees, the crashing of their passage growing fainter until she could hear no more.

***

She took in a deep breath. Uncurled her cramped and cold fingers, shook the snow from her hair. She spoke a word of power, and the branches enclosing her opened, releasing her. She spoke another, and two grey wolves appeared, their soft fur brushing her hands as they circled her, awaiting her command. ‘Go,’ she said, and they bounded away, golden eyes sharp with the thrill of the hunt. She listened as the howling grew louder, thought she heard a distant scream. Then she stepped inside her temple and began the work of cleansing.

She hadn’t been able to save her village.

But she could still avenge them.

Enjoyed this post? Want to read more? Find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, Under Stone (Ambeth Chronicles #4), is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

And don’t forget to get your Bloggers Bash tickets – follow this link to join the fun 🙂

#writephoto – Sunset

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Sue Vincent runs an excellent weekly writing prompt called #writephoto, where she shares a wonderful, evocative picture from her collection, and you have until the following Wednesday to write something inspired by it. Here’s this week’s photo, and this is my response:

He liked to leave the house at sunset. Once the lamps had been lit, the dying sun painting licks of fire against the clouds. It hurt, to be outside at such a time, but it was worth it, to feel his soul twist and open against the beauty of the world, a reminder of something he could no longer have.

He remembered hours spent lying under blue skies, golden sun warming his skin. Lazy summer days drifting on rivers, nursing a beer in a pub garden, the sweet-sour taste on his tongue. The way the ocean shifted hue with the sky, the bright green of sunlight through leaves, the miraculous coloured arc of a rainbow.

All that was lost to him now. No beer, no warmth, no sunlit skies. It had seemed like such a good deal at the time, immortality an irresistible lure. And she had been so lovely, with her pale skin and red lips and dark promises – how could he have denied her?

But now she was gone. Vanished without so much as a by-your-leave. He was alone, confined to his house by day, wandering the streets by night. He had no taste for blood, despite his endless thirst – and besides, these were his neighbours. The thought of feeding from them was repugnant. So he made do with what he could find, small scurrying creatures that tasted of soil and berries, better than nothing, but nothing like the ecstasy she had promised.

He had no fancy for capes, nor for lurking in coffins. He left his house each evening, taking the curving road that reflected red back into the shimmering sky. One day, he thought, he might just keep walking, see if he could find her again. Or, failing that, someone else like him.

Eternity, after all, is no fun spent alone.

Like this post? Want to read more? Find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

#writephoto – Wall Hanging

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I’m still writing up my weekend away with The Silent Eye, but thought I’d take a quick foray into this week’s #writephoto challenge, courtesy of Sue Vincent.

‘Is it a bit much?’

‘We-ell–‘

‘I mean, it’s nice and bright, isn’t it? The red and the green?’

‘Yes, but–‘

‘And that’s kind of Christmassy too, which goes with the whole reindeer thing.’

‘But-‘

‘I mean, I could have done a whole wall of them, but I though that would definitely be too much.’

‘D’you think–’

‘And the shape is nice, isn’t it? Sort of an upside-down triangle thing. Kind of ties it all together.’

‘I really don’t–‘

‘And you could sort of decorate it- like, hang things from it. Don’t you think?’

‘…’

‘…’

‘…’

‘…’

‘Do you really think it’s the right thing for a baby’s room?’

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

#writephoto – Fire Dance

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‘‘A firedance through the night.’ What d’you suppose they meant by that?’

‘Who?’

‘That band, you know the ones, all floppy hair and white teeth. You know, catchy melodies. They had fancy lyrics, too.’

‘Oh, yeah. I dunno.’

‘You dunno the band, or you dunno what they meant?’

“Both. It was a while ago, wasn’t it?’

They continued along the dark road, footsteps echoing in the cold night air.

‘Maybe they were talking about those fire dancers, you know, the ones you see on the beach, twirling their fire sticks. Remember that holiday we went on?’

‘Yeah. Nice, that.’

***

On the hillside beyond, fire bloomed, like an exotic red gold flower opening, throwing smoke into the velvet sky.

***

‘It was a catchy tune. One of my favourites, back in the day.’

‘Oh well. That’s nice. Cold tonight, isn’t it?’

‘Lovely and clear though. Look at them stars.’

‘Won’t mind getting in though. A nice cup of tea, I think.’

‘Sounds good.’

***

Above them, drumming rang in the high places. Figures masked and cloaked moved between the fires, casting long shadows. Their dance was older than history, older than the hills. It had been sung and written about many times, ribbons of memory woven into pictures anew.

But they did not concern themselves with the world. All they needed was the dance.

This was my response to Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt for this week.

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

#writephoto – To The Seven

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Another lovely #writephoto prompt from Sue Vincent. If you’d like to participate, you have until Wednesday next week to respond to the prompt. Here is my response:

They say I had a glass casket. That I was surrounded by flowers, a wonder of the woods.

But the truth is far simpler than that.

After all, they were woodsmen, miners, the seven who cared for me. Men short in stature and in funds. Where would they have found the glass to make it, the gold to bind me?

Instead they made me a bed from what they knew. Timber, gift from the forest that sheltered us, carved with their axes, shaped with love. And they laid me there, sheltered by branches, leaves my coverlet, flowers my crown.

I was a princess. My rescuer, a prince. But I’d been saved long before he came along, with his lips red as the apple that had laid me low.

And so my bed of wood remains, a memorial to love and friendship.

To the seven.

You can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

#writephoto – Twilight

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I haven’t done a #writephoto for a couple of weeks, mainly because I’ve had a couple of quite insistent book ideas nagging at me, so have been focusing on them. Oh, and there was also the Blogger’s Bash this past weekend, where I had the great pleasure of seeing Sue, along with many other blogging friends – there is a post to come, hopefully this weekend, as it’s taken a few days for it all to sink in.

When I saw Sue’s photo prompt this week, words came to me straight away, and so here is my response to her lovely twilit hillside:

Love Song

At night he comes

My lover sweet

As twilight steals across the land

As birds lie still

And shadows fall

I feel the caress of his hand

 

He comes in blue

He comes in gold

Like mist and smoke, a dream of rain

He stays with me

Till morning breaks

I know not if he’ll come again

 

I sit alone

My window wide

The sleeping hills like folds of blue

And violet deep

I hear your song

Beloved, do you hear mine too?

If you would like to respond to Sue’s prompt, you have until Wednesday June 21st to post a link or pingback – head over to Sue’s blog for more details.

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

#writephoto – When The Water Falls

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‘You been here long?’

‘No, not really.’

‘Me either,’ I say, dragging my finger through the water pooling on the sill. ‘Still, it’s weird, isn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘Well, like, I don’t think I’ve been here long. But on the other hand I can’t remember ever not being here… So I don’t know.’

‘I remember singing.’

‘Singing?’ I consider for a moment. Light dawns. ‘Oh yeah, singing. And, like, a lady?’

‘Yeah. In blue? Or was it purple?’

I screw up my face. ‘Purple, I think. I seem to remember purple.’

‘And, were there other people?’

‘Hmmm. You know, I think there might have been. Like, I was here with someone else, and then I heard the singing, and then…’ But I can’t remember anything else except a blur of white light and singing. I definitely remember the singing.

‘It was raining then, too.’

‘It was?’

‘Yeah. My… mum?’ He pauses, as though he’s testing the word. ‘Yeah, my mum, she made me wear wellies that day.’

‘Wellies? What are they?’ But as I think about it I remember, black rubbery boots. And, some sort of uniform. ‘I think maybe, I might have been at… school once.’

‘School? Huh. I think maybe I might have been too.’

‘And there was someone, like, a mister someone. They were shouting…’

‘And then there was the singing. And the water…’

‘A bit like today, I guess.’

There is noise, then. The chatter of voices, the clatter of shoes on old stone floors, and the room feels all at once crowded. I hear someone speaking. ‘And this is the very chamber is where the infamous lady lured…’ His voice disappears,  drowned out by a rushing sound. Through the window I can see water pouring from the mouth of an ancient figure carved into the wall. And as it falls it takes with it all my half-remembered ideas, and all that is left is singing, and a glimpse of purple.

…..

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘You been here long?’

‘No. Or, I don’t know, really.’

‘Me either’

‘Okay.’

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

 

 

#writephoto – Waiting

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It’s another #writephoto challenge from Sue Vincent, and this week our prompt is this evocative photo of sunset over the ocean. There seemed to be something melancholy about the image – perhaps it’s the combination of the obelisk and the setting sun. This is the poem that came to me:

Waiting

I wait upon the lonely shore

I wait for boats that come no more

Where water meets stone

Where earth meets sky

I watch the long years passing by

 

No one remembers when I came

They do not even know my name

Yet still I wait

Yet still I stare

In hope that I might see you there

 

As darkness ends another day

And golden shimmers slide away

I cry out loud

To an uncaring sea

‘Come back to me, come back to me.’

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.

#writephoto – Shore – The Meeting

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This week Sue’s #writephoto prompt is a lovely image of sea and sand. Here is my (short but hopefully sweet) response:

The Meeting

Curving, carving,

A river through sand

A ribbon of silver

Meeting the sea

 

Dancing, splashing

A foaming blue line

An endless cycle

Meeting the land

If you enjoyed this post and want to read more, you can find me on Twitter @AuthorHelenJ,  Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. Plus my latest book release, A Thousand Rooms, is now available on Amazon. Visit my Amazon Author Page to see more.