Tag Archives: Alastair’s Photo Fiction

October 27, 2013

A Face Only a Wife Could Love – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

A Face Only a Wife Could Love

“Dang, I’m hideous,” Alex thought as he glanced down at his reflection in a puddle. He avoided reflective surfaces and envied vampires for their inability to see themselves in mirrors.

A woman’s face appeared next to his in the reflection. Now there was real beauty.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just myself.”

“Narcissist.” She laughed and kissed his cheek.

“Does it bother you that I’m ugly?” he asked.

“I don’t think you’re ugly.”

“Do you think I have a face only a wife could love?”

“You’d better. You don’t get to have a girlfriend now.”

He smiled and took her hand. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Now can we finish crossing the street? We’re holding up traffic.”

15 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, beauty, fiction, flash fiction, marriage, reflection, ugly, wife | posted in Light

October 20, 2013

Guardian – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

By David Stewart

I’m back in the blogging world again. I’ve been quite busy/tired/distracted for the last few weeks, but I hope to do more blog writing and reading in the future. This story is rather dark, but I meant it to have a glimmer of hope at the end. I hope that is how you take it.

Guardian

“What’s that?” I asked my father, when I was five.

“Our family crest.” His deep voice echoed through the long passageway.

“No, above it.”

“The guardian,” he said, turning quickly and starting to walk away.

“It’s scary.”

“Quiet!” He turned so forcefully on me that I bit back a cry.

From that day on, I never asked again; never told when the thing lurking over our shield began appearing in my dreams.

I tried to take it down as a teenager. My father caught me and beat me. I saw then that he was afraid, and there was fawning obeisance in his touch as he carefully replaced it on the wall.

I did nothing when my mother died, when my sister went insane, when my father drank himself to death, but I felt that dark presence looming more and more over the now quiet house.

The night my younger brother died—falling down the stairs—I tried to smash our precious guardian, but my courage failed and I fled.

A friend once told me that if the devil exists, then God must exist as well.

I hope he is right: my search becomes more and more desperate as I feel the darkness growing around me once more.

15 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, creepy, Demon, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, guardian, monster, spirit | posted in Dark

October 6, 2013

The Delights of the Cage – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

By David Stewart

http://alastairsphotofiction.wordpress.com/2013/10/06/photo-fiction-october-6th-2013

The Delights of the Cage

“If only,” Col said, and sighed as only a pigeon can. “Look how strong those bars are.”

“They could hold off anything,” Umbi murmured. “Cats, rats, even dogs.”

“And they’re indoors, and they’re allowed to be,” Dae said. “I once flew into a Walmart and I had people whacking at me with brooms for an hour before I got out.”

“Food all day long, just sitting there, ready to eat,” Col said.

“Warm in the winter, cool in the summer,” Dae moaned.

“I hear they even get a bell to play with, or a mirror.”

“What’s a mirror?”

“It’s like a magic window. It has another bird inside that can’t get out. I hear they’re very entertaining.”

“Shoo! Get away from here!” The three pigeons scattered and took flight, just in time to avoid the kick the pet shop owner had aimed at them.

“If only we could live in a cage,” Umbi said as they flew away, in search of something to eat. “That would be the life.”

9 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, fiction, flash fiction, imagination, pets, pigeon, quirky | posted in Light

September 1, 2013

Phaeton Day

By David Stewart

This is a story for Alastair’s Photo Fiction challenge. It takes place in a virtual reality world, similar to the one in my story, The Horse Bridge.

Phaeton Day

I woke up in my virtual world of Lex to find a .80 caliber Helios “Sunkiller” rifle propped next to my bed. That meant only one thing: Phaeton Day.

Outside, neighbors were clustered together, looking up at the sun, each holding their rifle. The sun was already quivering around, dancing to and fro. Suddenly, it streaked across the whole arc of the sky from east to west. Shadows skewed crazily.

A few people took shots at it, but most waited. The world moderators had outlawed flying for the day and everyone moved slowly, suddenly ungainly at having to stay on the ground.

The day wore on and as the sun sunk closer to the earth, it began to get hotter. More people were firing now, trying to puncture the sun and unlock their Sunkiller achievement.

By mid-afternoon, everything was broiling. The sun was on high difficulty: it kept dancing everywhere, impossible to hit.

I had one bullet left when the sun zoomed overhead. I felt the intense blast of heat and fired upwards. There was a splash of flames and the disk of the sun fell onto my house.

“Congratulations!” a voice said out of nowhere. “Umm, sorry.”

14 Comments | tags: achievement, Alastair's Photo Fiction, fiction, flash fiction, mythology, Phaeton, photograph, rifle, science fiction, virtual reality | posted in Light

June 30, 2013

12 Hours to Live

By David Stewart

This is a story for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.

12 Hours to Live

“How old are you?” Erin asked the mayfly perched on her arm.

“About two hours,” the mayfly said. “Sorry if I seem distracted; I really need to find a mate.”

“Don’t we all,” Erin muttered. “I’m 38 years old and haven’t found one.”

“What’s a year? I live for 12 hours.”

“Ah, in your time scale, I’m about 6 hours old,” Erin said.

“Six hours? Holy aphids, you’re old.”

“So, what are you going to do with the next 10 hours, until you die?”

“I’m going to fly around, find a mate, have children, maybe go sightseeing—I’m hearing good things about the yard across the street. I don’t even need to stop to eat.”

“Sounds like a busy day.”

“Busy life, you mean. When you’re a mayfly, you gotta go like there’s no tomorrow. Because there isn’t one. So, what are you going to do?”

“Uh, well you see, there’s this CSI marathon on TV today . . .”