Flash Fiction: Retmor Manor

Flash Fiction: Retmor Manor

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Lucinda slugged her way through a rocky, undulating pathway to arrive at the hill-top. Stopping to catch her breath, she noted down the exterior of Retmor manor, all the while, cursing her luck for getting the most boring assignment- History of Retmor manor.

It was a ginormous stony rectangular building with high walls and an isolated tower placed at each angle. A narrow metal door led towards the interior of the building and there were no other exits. The first floor was bare while the second contained portraits lined across it’s walls. At the far-right corner was the picture of a lady who could pass for “18th century Lucille”. Lucille stared jaw-dropped at the picture, lost for words. She rubbed her eyes, re-affirming it wasn’t in fact a dream.

Just then a male voice boomed all around the mansion, Lucille’s heart quickened and pulse raced. “Don’t be scared, your highness“, the voice said “this is only your destiny“. The color drained from Lucille’s face and all she could think of was “I am so screwed”.


word count: 175. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy. Every week, a new photo is released and the participants are required to write a 150 word story (give of take 25). It is so much fun participating named also reading the wonderful stories written by the other writers. Do check out the link above, there is a story for everybody there.

Flash Fiction: Tale of old time…

Flash Fiction: Tale of old time…

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The early inhabitants of the land had a belief that twin children were an unnatural phenomenon and hence, had to be killed. They had no basis to their claims other than a ridiculous spiritual inclining. It is said, the “twin rocks” first appeared after the first set of twins were murdered and buried under the ground. The two rocks were barely small stones then.

As the atrocities of man towards twins increased, thus did the stones grow- into rocks and then ginormous mountains until the villagers feared for their safety. With religion and civilization, dawned the realization on the villagers that the act they carried out was nothing but barbaric.

Prayers were said, forgiveness was sought for, the murder was stopped and the mountains steadily dissolved into the two small stone statue we see today. It is said, the stones never returned to ground level in order to serve as a reminder and warning against such atrocities.
         But then again, this story I got from my grandmother and it might as well be a tale of old time.


word count: 178 (oops, slightly over). This story is in response to Flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, where each week a picture is given and we are required to Write a 150 (give or take 25) word story on it.