The magic within

get the InLinkz codeImage by GOROYBOY

They were coming! He tripped over roots and rocks and sliced his hands and knees.

In his mind he saw only his daughter. Would Little Ayla understand? He spent a lifetime locked in his cramped room writing books by oil lamps. And now those books were burned to ash, by the orders of the government who sought to punish him for disobedience and disruption. What did he know of disruption? He was a teacher not a warrior.

All he did was show his students their inner power. Revolution had sprung.

Panting, he thought it odd that even in this moment, he had inspiration. He would write and teach till his last breath. Dipping his finger in the blood that trickled from his slivered palm, he wrote on the sleeve of his robe.

A sharp pain pierced his shoulder, and when he reached towards it he pulled out an arrow. He could barely hear the sounds of horsemen approaching and as he fell his eyes rested on his own script on his sleeve, Love yourself.

174 words

The image was so evocative of magic and I’ve been reading about true self love as opposed to regular TLC. True self love is more difficult and life changing. And it is our own inner magic in a way. So this is where my mind took me when I saw this image. Thank you to Goroyboy for providing it for this week’s prompt!

Written for FFfAW (Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers).

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A hidden heirloom

 

Photo prompt provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise!

The colours drew him into another world and he was lost. Lost in the most beautiful of escapes. The painting was exquisite. The subtle touches of light against dark, the soft brush strokes conveying the tone of the entire painting; tranquility.

The chatter of people brought him back to the real world. For once he was glad to be in the world of the living. He was next in line to have the antiquity examined at the travelling roadshow of experts. The sun was out, the surrounding fields a spring green. Like a painting. He smiled to himself. He was a living subject of this delicate work of art.

Passed down through his grandmother, it was hidden in the corridors and attics of his family. He needed expert confirmation. Because if it was authentic, it would mean an undiscovered masterpiece.

The expert in arts and literatures bent to examine the canvas, the signature and the layers of paint. He frowned, then straightened slowly, his mouth numbly conveying the sweetest words. “It’s a Monet…”

 

173 words

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) where the challenge is to write 100 to 175 words based on the prompt.  Click the link to view more stories.

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