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  Kenneth Lawson
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March 21st, 2022

3/21/2022

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​Shock spread through the village as the frosty fog lifted, revealing a castle that wasn’t there the day before. The thunderstorms had been unusually severe the night before, and lightning had blanketed the valley. Many villagers remembered being woken up by several loud blasts of thunder and the shaking of their small abodes. Reports of pots broken from falling off shelves and broken windows came in from all over. 

But no one had expected to find a castle on the hill overlooking their valley.

Rumors spread quickly about the new addition to the mountain. Hushed conversations and outright shouting matches were the order of the morning throughout the village. Finally, the villagers agreed someone had to go to the castle and investigate.

Sir Randall Pike stepped up and offered to venture up the mountain to explore the castle. Armed with the best sword and lance in the village, he mounted his steed, a gray mare that had been battle-tested, and left the village. The trail up the mountain was rough, and the trek slow and treacherous.

 When he arrived, he noted that the castle looked like it had been there for centuries. The path to the gate was well worn from use. How could this be? The structure didn’t exist yesterday. 

 To his shock, the gates swung open he approached. He hesitated but slowly passed through the opening. Inside the courtyard lay mounds of debris, carts, and tools, cast about haphazardly. No one else seemed to be about, and nudging his horse, he rode into the courtyard toward the castle. 

 The quiet that filled the space was almost deafening. He could hear his heartbeat and see his breath in the frigid air. As Sir Randall Pike dismounted his steed, he let the reins drop as his eye caught movement. He walked towards it, sword in hand. 

An older man dressed in velvet robes appeared from inside one of the narrow doors, stopped just out of sword’s reach, and gazed at Sir Randall. Their breath seemed to freeze in midair as they stared at each other. A glimmer of recognition passed through Sir Randall’s mind as a distant memory began to surface.

“We were expecting you. 

“Expecting me, why?”

“Every few millennia, we return to this dimension to claim our rightful king, the one who carries our bloodline. The time has come for you to take your rightful place as leader of the Upper Dimension.”

The man withdrew a scepter hidden under his cloak and handed it to Randall. The moment Sir Randall touched the golden wand, his body began to change. His muscles and bones started to hurt in a way he’d never experienced before. He was growing older, his beard growing white and lengthening. As he looked around, the courtyard came alive with people from the distant realm. 

He was home. With that realization, the castle vanished.

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March 13th, 2022

3/13/2022

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Picture
​He was there every evening when I passed by, his fishing pole in the water, never saying a word. I tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he only grunted in response, so I stopped trying.
One day, my curiosity got the better of me, and I sat on a nearby park bench and started reading a book. It was nearly dark when he packed up. I hadn’t planned on following him, but I couldn’t resist. I kept him in sight as he headed for the seedy side of town. The old brick tenement building he entered was older than dirt.
​ I reached the lobby in time to see him park the bike in a corner and head upstairs.
I followed him, the stench of old trash and other smells making me gag. He opened a door at the end of the hall and went inside. Summoning my courage, I rapped on his door. The door cracked open.
“Go Away.
I pushed the door just a little to keep him from closing it on me. “Sir.”
“What do you want?” The door opened a little more.
“I don’t know.” I stumbled for words. “I was worried about you. You’re always at the same spot every day fishing but never seem to catch anything.”
The old man sighed and opened the door. “Come in. You’re not leaving until I talk to you.”
The small apartment was sparsely furnished and well worn. I noticed an antique sideboard covered with photos and medals.
“My family, when I had one. Coffee?”
“Yes.”
I sat on the worn sofa while he made coffee.
He handed me coffee and then held out a wrinkled hand. “Lewis Cranford” I shook it and introduced myself.
I glanced at fishing poles leaning in the corner.
“Yeah, that.” He sipped his coffee. “Truth of the matter, I’m not fishing—I’m waiting.”
“Waiting?” He shifted in his chair.
“She was supposed to come, but she never did.”
“Who never came?”
Lewis leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as if to remember. I suspect he remembered all too well.
“My daughter was supposed to meet me there. We were going to fish, but she never showed, “ he sighed.
“Tell me about it.” I leaned forward on the couch.
“It was years ago. We were supposed to meet and go fishing before she left for college. She never came.” Suddenly he seemed even older.
“Did she tell you why?”
“No, I never heard from her again. She just disappeared, and I never saw her again.”
“Why still go every day?”
Lewis wandered to the sideboard and picked up a photo. “This, this was her.: The picture was of a young woman about twenty at and from her clothes, taken a long time ago.
“Pretty.” I handed the frame to him.
” Pretty smart too— got a scholarship .”
“Why do you keep going back after all these years?”
He leaned against the sideboard, sadness on his face. “Because it's the only thing that I have left to live for. If I don’t go, I may not get up in the morning.”
I smiled. “I tell you what. I think it’s time I took up fishing. “
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    Picture


    500 Words
      The idea is to write a short story  about 500 max short based on a picture and an opening line.  
    ​From there one can go ANYWHERE..
    ​
    Please note: the images used are free-use images and do not require attribution.

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