Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!
A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!
With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction prompt based off a setting and occurrence prompt. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!
(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)
The old house creaked and cracked in protest from the blustering gusts of October wind outside. The gusts slipped through the cracks in the weathered wood and moaned down the long, empty hallways, flickering the flames of dimmed oil lamps lining the walls. The old plantation home had been standing for over a hundred years now and its age was showing.
I lifted my skirts in one hand as I hurried up the bending stairs and down the hall, another oil lamp in my hand to help light my way. Everyone had abandoned the home and taken shelter in the cellars with the impending storm brewing overhead and I was all alone. I planned to join my family, but I couldn’t leave behind my journal should the storm bring a freight train along its path.
My journal was precious to me, it was close to my heart and I could not lose all its wrinkled and inked pages if darkness and hell bore down on our home tonight. It was special enough to me that I would risk the pounding rain and hailing winds to retrieve it.
Hurrying along as fast as I could I made it to my room and pushed the door open with my shoulders, ignoring the banging shutters against the sides of the house making my nerves jump. The curtains were fluttering from the breeze slipping in and the branches of trees were casting eerie, crooked shadows swaying across the hardwood floor.
My heart was pounding in my chest, both from adrenaline and fear, as I scanned the room for my journal. It was right where I had left it, laying upon my beside dresser with my quill and ink jar beside it.
Setting the oil lamp down on the dresser next to the door, I snatched a satchel off of an ornate chair and began gathering the essentials of my heart and soul that I could not bear to lose. My journal, full of pages of rambling, hopes, dreams, wishes, poems, and the diary of my days. A necklace or two that my mother had given to me before her death. A couple photos. Whatever I could think of I quickly gathered and put into the satchel in a frenzy.
The wind was picking up more outside, howling now through the wheat fields and trees around the manor. Hail was panging off the glass windows, and a bolt of lightning that struck the ground outside made me jump. I screamed, nearly dropping my satchel. My hands flew to cover my ears from the bang and rumble of thunder that followed the strike, lighting up my room with a camera’s flash.
With a racing heart I finished grabbing all I could not part with and bustled back to the doorway. I sent one wistful look around my room, letting me eyes rest upon my sanctuary for a second. The four poster bed with a canopy of red. The dressers adorned with my own personal touches. The paintings and drawings I could not fit into my satchel but wished I could save.
A lump began to form in my throat and tears blurred my vision, but the growing storm outside urged me forward. Turning back around I grabbed the oil lamp, flung the satchel over my shoulder, and hitched my skirts up again, about to run when I felt something latch onto my ankle.
Another scream escaped my lips and I looked down, spooked.
Clinging to my ankle was a black cat, with a tiny brown mouse held lightly in its jaws.
“Lucifer!” I exclaimed, horrified with myself that I had forgotten all about my cat, and his companion squirming around in fright. If he could have meowed without dropping the mouse I was sure he would have, but he just looked at me with those pleading golden eyes.
I bent down and scooped him up in one arm, setting everything down to open my satchel again. “Alright, alright now. Climb in Lucifer, take Gus with you. Come, come. We must hurry.”
For what I swore was the first time in his nine lives, my trickster, troublemaker cat did as told without question, scurrying into the safety of my bag with his friend. I cradled the satchel in my arm now to try to lessen the jostling I would do. Deciding my lamp would only slow me down now if I could not hitch up my skirts I blew the tiny flame out and stood, hurrying off as fast as I could in my heels, and praying I would beat the impending storm back to safety.
Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!