6 sentence story – Done Fishin’

It had been a hot day, all day long, and the kids had enjoyed playing on the floating dock and catching fish. Now they were tired and had been tucked up in bed with their dreams of the big ones that got away. Tomorrow would be a new adventure, as it always was for the youngsters.

As the old man looked at the forgotten net, lit by the fading sun, he recalled his own childhood adventures. They were a lifetime and a continent away. Yet reassuringly similar.

160804_DoneFishing
~Richard

Catching Sunbeams

The old man worked his way methodically through the meadow, his long cloak brushing through the tall summer grasses. It was almost dusk and he still had a lot of work to do before the Solstice was over. On this, the longest day, he had been up before dawn setting out his traps along the ley line than from the ancient gnarled oak and down the hill towards the brook. It was a pattern he had repeated twice each year for longer than he could remember. It had been well over a hundred and fifty times by his reckoning. Although the summer had always been easier than the winter, these last few years were really taking their toll on him. His joints ached but he would soon be finished. He recalled how, all those years ago, as a young boy, he had bounded through the fields, full of enthusiasm as he had learned his trade from his predecessor. How he had been scolded and told to slow down and feel the rods to make sure they were placed perfectly and had done their deed.

He had thought the tradition would continue forever, and be passed down for generations to come, but he was wrong. First, the Great War had taken so many from the village and then the revolution that brought technology had relegated so many of the old ways to mere folklore. He was truly amazed at the speed of the change. He had no apprentice, and over the last few years he had resigned himself to being the last Collector.

As he reached the final rod he carefully unfastened the iron jar from his belt, traced his forefinger over the runes on the lid and removed it. With a clockwise twisting motion he extracted the iron rod from the ground and gently tilted the hoop over the mouth of the jar with practiced, steady hands. He muttered his short incantation and gently tapped the hoop, watching as the sunbeams slowly, almost reluctantly, drifted into the jar. Replacing the lid, he added the final rod to the quiver on his back and turned to watch the sunset.

This had been another good harvest.

160421_SunbeamCatcher

~ Richard

© 2016, Richard Reeve

 

6 sentence story – War of the Worlds Redux

They had never really understood our true nature.Had it really never occurred to them that the attackers in the tripods were merely doing our bidding? The seeming ease of their conquest should have warned them, but their pious arrogance precluded further analyses.

By the time our Martian hosts had expired we had already moved on – initially hibernating and then carefully molding our genes as we adapted to the new environment.Our new hosts were smaller but much more robust and so varied.

And we now have  all the time in the World!

160414_Insects

~Richard

6 sentence story – The camera never lies?

At first he was sure there had been a mistake.  When he opened the pack of developed photographs fresh from the store his initial thought was that they had given him someone else’s film. But as he flipped through the prints he saw that they were, in fact the shots he had taken; or rather the compositions were the same. The actual subjects had changed though – the faces were different, the clothes dated. He thought that was all, but when he looked closer, even the background was wrong – trees smaller and a missing house.  This must be some kind of joke, he thought, but if so it was an elaborate one, and who would do such a thing…?

160407_Gardening

~Richard

Norman is an Island

Norman works for the Royal Bahamas Police and takes his job very seriously. So do the drivers when they set off at the lights on Bay Street, Nassau. Officer Norman stands proudly in the center of the road as an island of calm and gives you the eye. You had better do as he tells you or there will be consequences…

160331_NormanIsAnIsland

~ Richard

6 sentence story – Playing to the crowd

As with every morning the old man picked his way along the freshly hosed down cobbled streets to the same spot and arranged his sign and his jar before sitting on the chilly doorstep.

The sun came up over the ruined castle and warmed his face and hands as he unbuckled the bellows of his accordion.He cocked his head and scanned up and down the street, hearing the increasing footfall echoing between the buildings from the old stairway.

The first cruise ship had arrived, so he started his playing.

“That’s beautiful,” said a young woman’s voice as she dropped some coins in his jar.

Looking up whilst playing he smiled graciously at her through sightless eyes.

Accordion Player - Richard Reeve

~ Richard

A Story – Winter Hike

The snowfall had been unexpected and fairly heavy. It was not unusual for a few inches to fall in a day but the blizzard had deposited nearly 2 feet of snow overnight, and it was even deeper where it had drifted or, to be more precise, had been blown by the wind.

He had been obliged to break his journey and find shelter in an abandoned barn during the storm. Now he was behind schedule and the deep snow that covered the track would make journeying onward much slower. However, he had no choice as he had a valuable cargo to deliver in his backpack. Many people were relying on him getting through to the outpost, and his return to his kinsfolk with the medicine would be eagerly watched for.

He kicked some snow into the morning fire to make sure it was extinguished, and placing a wad of tobacco into his cheek, he pulled on the heavy pack, tightened the straps and wearily headed West…

160304_WinterHike

~ Richard

6 sentence story – #1600

It had started off as a boast, born from a late-night party with his friends, and had somehow mutated into an unstoppable train. At some point he was bound to be derailed; at least that’s what the pundits had opined month after month. But now he had arrived; admittedly by the skin of his teeth, but a win was a win nonetheless. His offensive rhetoric and inconsistent fomenting had made no difference, or had it? He had played a dangerous game and was quite surprised by how far he had been able to rally people’s rage to achieve his aim.

He felt exhilarated as the director called one last time, “We’re ready for your address, Mr. President,” tears welling in her eyes.

160303_Donald

~ Richard

A Story – The Watchtower

People had called him paranoid, and even mad when he had imported the ironworks and spent huge sums of money constructing the watchtower on the edge of his estate. They even went as far to call it his folly and suggest it would bankrupt him. Now, of course they saw that what he had constructed served a purpose, and for that they were grateful. They would soon forget though.
160224_Watchtower
It was only because of the tower that the village was afforded sufficient warning to be saved. Or rather those who had listened were saved. Others, scoffing at what they thought were rantings of a madman, were not so lucky. The bright sunrise and calm sky belied the events of the night before. He had seen the signs of the impending attack and had manned the tower, safe in the knowledge that the silver cage built in the top that that been so costly would save both him and she who was so precious to him, his daughter. When he spied the ghostly riders on the horizon at sunset he sounded the alarm as he had promised to do. After all, they only ever attacked at night, as sunlight was their enemy.

Those in the village who heeded his sign had taken refuge where they could. Shutting themselves into deep cellars and being totally still was the only way to survive. Others, filled with fighting spirit and beer stood little chance. These were not mortal warriors and there was no blade in the armory that could cut them.

By morning the prophecy had passed. They would be safe for another ten generations, although the village would be counting the cost for at least two, and all would be forgotten after five. He wondered if the tower would still be standing when it would be needed again, his legacy for his descendants perhaps…

~Richard

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