Last week’s Kreative Kue asked for stories or poetry prompted by the image of a man standing next to a sign that reads “Lake Nyasa, Altitude 478”. There were two responses, which are shown below.
If last week’s caused some head-scratching, let’s see what this week’s challenge will bring.
Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story or poem, and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at KeithKreates@orange.fr before 6pm on Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.
Rules? None really; just keep in mind that this blog is intended for a general audience. I reserve the right not to display material that I feel to be unsuitable. I’m hoping never to have to exercise that right.
Last week’s results.
Kate Loveton offered this nostalgic tale of first love:
“Hey, Gram, who is this?” asked Samantha, studying the yellowed photo she held in her hands.
Sam was home from college for the weekend. She was helping Joan get the house ready for sale; it involved going through all the things stored in her grandmother’s attic. It was a bittersweet task for Sam, one that left her with mixed feelings. Her beloved ‘Pop’ had died over a year ago, but Sam still grieved for him.
So did Joan, and that was one of the reasons she wanted to move on. After four decades of a happy life spent in the aged Victorian, Joan had decided it was time to take her life in a new direction. This was no easy task. She and Dave had been happy in the old house. They had raised Sam’s mother there. Unexpectedly, they ended up raising Sam, as well. Sam was now off at school for months at a time, and Dave… well, Dave was gone. Suddenly, their comfortable old Victorian seemed too big, too empty… and too filled with memories of a wonderful man who had been bigger than life. Read the rest on Kate’s site.
My own effort was:
“We must be getting quite close now, Dan,” I said to my companion. No reply.
“Dan?” I shouted. No reply.
Then I heard a muffled “Over here!”
I ran in the direction of the sound. There, in the middle of a clearing, Dan stood beside a sign that said ‘Lake Nyasa, altitude 478’. Close to it was another sign bearing the single word ‘Itungiport’.
Dan removed the briar pipe from between his lips. “There’s no mention of Itungiport on the map,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure Lake Nyasa is the old name for Lake Malawi. By my reckoning, we are quite close to its northern shore.”
I noted in my journal where we were, and did a couple of sketches, one showing Dan standing by the sign.
“How much farther?” I asked.
“About an hour’s walk; maybe a bit more,” Dan replied. Read the rest.