#3linetales

Mists hang, heavy and white, over the quiet of the Empty City.

I do not know how long its serene towers have been empty, nor what people lived here, amongst the pine trees whispering in the wind.

Three Line Tale #3: The expanse

She stared at the barren expanse that lay in front of her and heaved a sigh, bored from the long wait.

It was ironic that the blue planet had replaced the red planet now.

Her watch informed that the next shuttle to the Mars Rehabilitation Centre was 5 minutes away.

© 2018 Shweta Suresh. All rights reserved.

Written in response to prompt by Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for hosting this…

There was a girl in the laundromat who’d tell your future while you waited for your clothes to dry. She did it with cards – not Tarot cards (she said there was no magic in something made to be magical) but worn-out baseball cards and library cards with scribbled names and gift cards for businesses long closed.

The fiddler played with a lifetime’s worth of skill (perhaps more), but there was a coldness to his notes and to his eyes, buried in the shadow of his cap.

The traveller looked out over the channel waters, dark as midnight, and to the far shore, hidden in mist.

The Abbot’s Afternoon Off

It would be five hundred years that Thursday since the monks had begun their long watch of the Sleeper Who Must Not Wake, keeping up a constant chant and a constant vigil.

Since in those five hundred years (give or take a day), the Sleeper had done nothing of interest and shown no sign of doing anything but mummifying, the Abbot decided he could take an afternoon to head down to the village and…

Snow hangs on leaves, smiling-eyed couples walk hand-in-hand, the view from the great wheel is a breathtaking vista of white and grey, and the State sees it all. We are on every corner, in every shadow, on your streets and in your bedrooms, laughing at your jokes, weeping with your grief.

We only want you to be safe.

Week 304 of Three Line Tales photo by Toa Heftiba via Unsplash I could find a little space and get my creativity to flow like a beautiful waterfall. You can’t get enough of my words and feelings. That there will never be enough time to get all things done and stop and breathe in the fresh air. There will always be something fighting against you, but you must not give in. Written By: Deirdre…