Posts Tagged ‘Shriek’

Finally finished with my travels (a vacation disguised as a research trip) and I must say, if you haven’t ventured to Maine, do it. Now. And support your local farmers and fishermen, but I digress.

Thank you again to MadisonWoods for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come and play, damnit.

Here is my contribution:

Lover’s Knotty Tree

Seamus gouged letters into the body of the behemoth, his blade old but capable, swiped from the tool shed. Digging, twisting, he outlined with a heart, deepened the grooves, declared his love for Ginny.

He whistled.

He smiled.

He whittled away.

The outstretched arms above shivered as if capturing some invisible breath. Seamus, still working his knife, peered upward.  Leaves spiraled.

Seamus’ world trembled.

The tree groaned, arose, a bleeding heart pulsing on the sleeve of bark. Dirt and rocks flung high, roots poised like octopus tentacles.

A hush.

Seamus stumbled, fell. The giant pounced.

Horrid shrieks echoed through the woodlands.