The White Horses of My Mind

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

I welcome the cool fresh air softly cosseting my skin.  The gentle eddies in the water mirror the ripples of my life.  That’s all they are now: ripples.  The white horses of the past have been slayed, more accurately, the white horse has been slayed.  Events will challenge me in the weeks to come, of that I am sure, but the possibilities ahead do not alarm me.  The chaos that previously resided in my mind has gone, replaced by a calm serenity.  I inhale deeply, regard the colourful reflections in the water, then toss the knife into the ripples below.

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

We Have A Hostage Situation

PHOTO POMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

“You’d better do what they say or I’m gonna cop it!  They ain’t messing around here.  So far I’m being fed, but if you don’t meet their demands, I’m gonna meet my maker!” squawked Tarquin.

The fist clutching the valuable bird swept away from the camera.  A masked face filled the screen.

“You wanna see the bird again, you wire ten million bucks to this account by the end of today.”  He held up a board with the offshore account details. The screen went black.

“It’s a hoax,” said Edward.

“It’s my baby,” wailed Elizabeth.

“Wire the funds,” ordered Edward.

 

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.