7 PM
by caba

Comment:
She sat outside on the cold, wet ground and stared at the market sitting just across from her. She was sick from the wet and chilly air, and hungry, oh so hungry. Inside, there was food. Enough to feed a population of people and more, but none of it was for her. No, she had no means with which to purchase it.

A terrible cough escaped her, cutting her throat and strangling a cry of pain from her. She leaned back against the crumbling wall behind her and closed her eyes and dreamed of strolling into that market just there, dreamed of being a lady of some standing and buying everything her heart desired. She dreamed of sitting down and consuming the dainties and a smile touched her lips as she drifted off into an uneasy and feverish sleep, huddled in her rags and shivering now and then in a violent and frightening way.

When she awoke, not too long after, having been disturbed by something, her hand dropped to her side and touched something there that hadn't been there before. It was a paper bag, and it was warm to the touch. She gasped as a smell rose from it that shocked her and caused a pang of hunger in her stomach as she barely recognized that smell. A scent that she thought it impossible she'd ever know again. She tore open the bag, and there it was, a carton filled with good, hot food. She looked up suddenly, staring at the market, and there in the window was a man, looking back at her. He smiled, and waved, and then turned and walked away, disappearing down the halls inside.

She stared after him until he was gone, and then looked down at the gift of food. He must have brought it while she slept. That was what had woken her. A tear escaped her eye and she began to eat, gratefully, and learned that day that kindness had not completely disappeared from the world.

Portals
by lwkimages

Comment:
As he came home that day, a bag of groceries under his arm, he happened to glance up before reaching his door, and stopped in his tracks. Odd, he thought, as he looked at the front of his domain. He didn't remember leaving the window open.

He was gripped with a sudden worry and fear. No, he definitely didn't leave the window open, for now he remembered that he had closed it last night, as the breeze had become a little too cool and it was uncomfortable to wash the dishes in the sink. The little ball of fear in his stomach began to turn to terror, and then another memory hit him at the same time. The memory of the sun shining in this morning, and his happy and joyous reaction to it and the flinging open of that very same window to let in the rays and the warmth of the morning breeze that would freshen the air. He then sighed and laughed a great laugh of relief and shook his head and then strolled without worry into his home.

Then, he was accosted by the burglar that was indeed inside, and it was a grave misfortune that he was so preoccupied with the window that he didn't realize that he certainly hadn't left his front door completely off its hinges.

Mojanda
by quinde

Comment:
It was but a splash of color in a sad and grey filled expanse of landscape, and it was the first of its kind here.

It stood there, and was remarked upon, and brought some joy and hope to those that saw it, but it was only a mere suggestion of the beauty and wonder that would be. For when it bloomed, it would bring to this land a breath of life that it had never seen before. When it bloomed it would bring renewed hope to all! When it bloomed it...

... and a child ran by and plucked it from the ground, thinking it rather pretty, and all hope was lost.

Stare
by shanksware

Comment:
It was a sad moment the day she opened her closet and found that she only had one choice left. Thankfully, it was one of her better selections, and perhaps this one would last longer than the others. Perhaps she had learned from her mistakes and could use this one for the rest of her time here.

Perhaps.

So it was she grabbed the last head attachment and began another day in her observation of the human race, under new guise, and fervently hoped that they would not catch on that she was an android sent from a distant planet once again, because shipping for new head attachments was off the charts!

Sunset Bridge
by luvmyaussie

Comment:
He had walked far that day, on this journey of his. He was traveling the land, seeking himself, or at the very least, seeking to release what was already within himself, and so far he'd had a wonderful journey. For the most part, it had been carefree and of no event.

Then he'd stopped in that village this morning for a small bite to eat and a coffee, and had explained that he was to be going up Deadman's Road, as he heard there was some beautiful scenery that way. The room had gone quiet then, so that not a sound could be heard. It was like the very air had breathed in and refused to release itself.

He grinned uncomfortably and asked his waitress what the matter was. In a hushed whisper, her face ghostly white, she had uttered only that if he had any sense in his body, he would avoid that road. "Do not enter the covered bridge!" she had almost squealed, or would have if she had any breath left in her lungs.

With that, she told him quickly that his breakfast was on the house and that he should leave them, and such was her urgency that he decided not to make trouble and left the place.

Still, curiosity was stronger than fear in him, and laughing off what he considered the superstitions of a bunch of backwoods villagers, he decided to go his chosen path.

For most of the day he'd followed that road, which was called Deadman's for a reason unknown to him at the time. Had he known, perhaps he wouldn't have taken that road, though perhaps he would have still.

He followed that road without incident until the sun began to rain fire among the clouds and turned the air golden hued. It was then that he came upon it, the covered bridge. It stood there like any bridge, glowing red-orange in the deep light of the early evening, but looking absolutely unremarkable, and certainly not like a thing of horror and fear.

He laughed at the memory of the waitress, who had seemed near death with fright, and shook his head. The things that people allow themselves to fear. It could be so foolish.

So he hitched up his pack and started across that bridge, sitting in the middle of an expanse of fields and grass, and strolled across without much thought at all. Laughing, he reached the opening at the far end, and standing just inside, gazing at the final moments of the sunset beyond, he turned back to the gathering darkness behind him and began to shout out that victory was his. That he had beaten the silly bridge.

He began to shout, but no sound escaped him. No sound but a keening whistle from his suddenly constricted throat. For before him was a ghastly specter, glowing a sickly green, and dripping an oozing smoky slime. It floated there in front of him and then released a screeching wail that filled his head and his soul, a pitch that was almost beyond physical sound, but threatened to shatter him entire. He dropped to his knees, his body clenched in a deathly rictus, his mouth open in a silent scream, and the dripping, venomnous thing that was like mist and moisture ceased it's wail, and attacked.

Yes, in the end, he discovered why it was called Deadman's Road, but he was never found to explain it to anyone else.

Budapest Chain Bridge
by zifengw

Comment:
While not as popular as "London Bridge is Falling Down", there were still some children in parts of the world that enjoyed the lesser known tune of "Budapest Chain Bridge is Staying Up", though there were not many.

Mountain Morning
by Len Scap

Comment:
When it began, nobody took notice, for it began far from prying eyes. It began above the peaks and forests in a wilderness that few traversed, and none had settled.

On the day of our doom, the clouds above these peaks grew thick, and dark, and fire flashed within, and the heat seared the air and ground and set all it touched aflame.

By the time it reached more settled ground, where we as humanity gathered and lived, it had grown to such chaos and violence that we never stood a chance, and the fire and death rained from the sky and the very earth was turned to glass.

The instrument of our doom had started above the instrument of our life, and it seemed a fitting end.

To some.

First Steps, Under A Watchful Eye
by nidici

Comment:
And so she gazed upon her newly arrived chick with the love that only a mother can give. With a sense of awe and happiness and confusion and anxiety and joy and any and every emotion possible, all wrapped up into one.

She gazed and she loved and she hoped and she dreamed.

Such is motherhood through all species and barriers. To the end of time.

Remembering The Fallen
by 3DsArcher

Comment:
He stood there, trying hard to remain proud, and strong, but an unexpected memory had broken through his barriers. It had come creeping in from the depths of his soul, where long he had buried it, thinking it so deep that it could never surface.

Yet surface it did, and caused him to sag in his proud stance, and he grabbed for the stock of his rifle to try and steady himself, for his mind swooned and threatened to topple him, and his eyes dropped to the ground and tears welled up uncalled for.

In his mind the cries and screams of the one that he had failed. The haunting memory of the sounds of gun-fire and dying and a sense of helplessness that threatened to tear him apart. The memory of the day that he could not reach the only man that he had ever truly called friend. The memory and guilt of that day that suddenly washed over him.

Yet even as his strength faltered, something deep inside kept him standing, and even as the tears ran down his face, he somehow found it within him to steady himself, to look back up, to stand straight and true.

It was his duty. It was his call. It was why he was here, and he would honor those that were lost, even if that loss had broken his very soul.

Why are you pestering me for your photo challenge?
by herculesksp

Comment:
He sat there, alone, and tried desperately to remember his lines. For he was rehearsing for the ZooLand Players Theater's rendition of "The Lady and the Tiger", and he wanted to play his role to perfection.

So he sat, and he rehearsed, and he said his lines again and again, and gestured with his paws, and concentrated like he'd never concentrated before.

Because of his vigilance, opening night became a night that was never forgotten.