My favorite spot, away from the city's cacophony. A serene place by the placid lake. I noticed there was a book on the bench. The breeze was flipping the pages. The fluttering of the pages sounded like the fluttering of bird's wings.
Taking the book in my hands, I sat on the bench. The bench acknowledged my presence and creaked. There was a signature on the first page of the book.
I have decided. It is my last day, today. I have nobody to turn to. I have the last thing on my bucket list: to visit an amusement park. I want to spend a wonderful day, all by myself. I have spent every single penny on this vacation. I have lived my last night in the most luxurious suite of the most expensive hotel in the town.
Prompt for this week –
“Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air” – Hotel California by The Eagles
Write a story that may include these words or makes a reference to this song.
Write your story and click on the frog to link your story.
The Smart Move...
Everyone had warned him against it. He didn't listen. As he sat inside the car, he reflected on the bad choices that he made earlier that day. He realized that he was not as brave as he pretended to be. Seeing the empty roads, he had patted himself on the back. Smart move. I avoided traffic! But he hadn't thought what if the car brakes down.
The warmth of the bonfire beckoned him. It was an irresistible call. His cold soul wanted to stay there, just for another minute. "What harm will be done?" He wondered. His blue eyes glinted a little, his frozen heart thawed a little. He had pledged not to think about the past. But as his fingers got warm, his heart did too.
Alone I walk, into the jungle in search of the berries.
"They would make you immortal." The witch had spoken with her hand on my weak heart. My heart had failed me, and I don't mean in a philosophical way, I mean it literally failed me.
I'm dying. Those berries are the last hope of this dying middle-aged man. As I was saying, I walk in the dark jungle. I see a mirror on the ground in the middle of a jungle. Isn't it odd? ...
Read on the blog to know what happens next...
The decrepit bridge creaked under her feet. She liked the creaking sound it made. Her hair danced with the wind as if they were rejoicing with her. Her ankle played background music. As she danced on the bridge, she noticed a boy sitting in a boat on the lake.