Another Wednesday appears, another Friday Fictioneers. It may sound confusing, but please don’t fret, the days of the week haven’t changed just yet. With Rochelle at the helm of our little written ship, giving us 100 words to twist and flip, we write our little tales inspired by photos such as this–so carefully chosen we can’t possibly miss.
“It looks so peaceful,” Kal said regretfully.
The tall, lush grass was damp with the morning dew and it clung to their robes. The Master’s white beard trembled in the morning breeze as he regarded the clotted-cream clouds fiercely; one white eye seemed to pierce through the rolling mist. Ropy veins crawled like blue worms under the skin on the Master’s thin hands as he held them out over the valley. Kal watched the clouds move steadily, their underbellies beginning to darken.
“The cleansing,” the Master said quietly.
Kal turned his head, wishing there was another way.