Lost Soul – Very Short Story

It was dark, really dark. There were grey metal walls surrounding me. There was equipment… What were they again? I did something with them – once… Yes! It’s the hydraulics, and, that… that’s for the cannons! The cannons… Wait…

I looked around myself again, saw a hole in the wall. The hole was contrasted by the total blackness around me and I peered out. A large shadowy figured dashed by and I staggered back into the dark.

When I regained my bearings I thought: there were more of us… I turned my head upward and shouted. “Guys? Where are you?!”

As I ran blindly along the corridors I wondered: what were their names again?

I reached a set of stairs and hurried down. Why was it so dark? There was this one guy… James was his name. He — He introduced me to Mary!

Mary…

My heart raced as I pictured her. Suddenly the metal around me creaked. I wasn’t safe here. I have to reach the surface… Where is everyone?

The boat creaked again and my footing tilted to the left. We were sinking!

I rushed upwards, stopping momentarily to shout down the corridors in case anyone else was left but there was no answer.

As I made my way higher, I saw some light above and I hurried my steps. The higher I climbed the brighter it became. Then, the ship creaked ones more and it became ever darker as we sank. No… No! I cried, but there was no use and soon there was only the void.

The ship touched the seafloor softly and spurt sand all around. I saw nothing around me but I knew then that I was dead. My breath was gone as no air would escape my lungs. I had truly been left alone… Why?

As I pondered, things changed around me; the clear grey metal became murky; all manners of creatures swarmed and installed themselves in their new habitat. Life was abundant, but I took no notice as I pondered my fate. Then, after some time, I saw a light coming closer. They were two shining bright eyes that stared right at me. It stopped and inspected me. Could it see me?

I moved closer and saw two men huddling inside the bright-eyed creature. I looked curiously at them but they didn’t stay for long and search another end of the wreckage. When I was alone once more, a yearning stirred in my heart. I needed to go back… I set forth into the unknown dark waters until there was darkness no more but her lovely scent and her hand in mine.

She scolded me for making her wait this long.


© Christopher Stamfors

Ghostly Creed – Poem

The alley echoed hollow on the empty street

Silence is a virtue by ghostly creed

Old houses and graveyards, is where they’d like to be

Hollow beings which the living cannot see

They are bound by the earth as long as they are remembered

Cast to the unknown, they prefer to stay unattended

For nobody knows what lay beyond

Are you going to heaven

Or hell as a thrall?


© Christopher Stamfors

Drew the cover image by myself this time around, although very hastily…

The Song of Haze – Flash Fiction Contest

Photo copyright K. S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution.Use the photograph above as the inspiration for your flash fiction story. Write whatever comes to mind (no sexual, political, or religious stories, jokes, or commentary, please) and after you PROOFREAD it, submit it as your entry in the comments section below. There will be no…

via Flash Fiction Writing Prompt: Fog — Indies Unlimited

Another writing prompt for a 250 word flash fiction contest.

Here is my contribution:

Sitting on top of the lighthouse and staring into the haze, I cannot help but reflect on all the wasted summers I’ve had at my grandparent’s house. There is nothing to do here on this godforsaken rock. No ships even come through here any longer since they’ve found a much safer route a few kilometres to the north…

Sometimes I think my grandparents enjoy the monotony, the all engulfing silence. I cannot understand it. At least, when I was younger, I could gorge in the stories they told. Stories about adventure, about monsters and ghosts – the hazy weather adding to the mystery.

As I stood staring into nothingness, trying to remember the one story about a ghost ship, I began hearing a peculiar sound. I wondered if it was the ocean hitting against the lighthouse, but it definitely had a melody. Forgetting about the story, I peered my ears until everything was silent again.

I slumped on the railing, disappointed, and my mind drifted again towards the story. And as I did, the melody returned. I imagined it to be a sea chanty, course and without rhythm. Thinking about it more strongly, I swear I heard the creaking of wooden planks near me – the sounds and music growing stronger.

But as I tried to rationalise what was happening, the sounds disappeared and I was once again alone in the haze. Maybe there is more to it, this place that nobody visits, a place where stories comes to life.