Wednesday 5 July 2017

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 18

This week's photo is a photoshopping image of the Monticello Dam drain hole. And is in so many places on the internet I can not track the creator. The drain hole is the largest in the world, and located in northern California. (This funnel-shaped outlet, allows water to bypass the dam when it reaches capacity, as it swallows a rate of 48,400 cubic feet per second.)

I liked the perspective this image offered, both literally and metaphorically. I'm interested to see what others will make of it. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

The End

Chloe had had enough. She couldn’t handle another day like this. She hated it here: the fakeness, the surface chatter, the ‘keeping up with the Jones’ they all did, the friendship cliques. She couldn’t stand it. She had tried intellectual conversation with them, but they would look at her blankly. They weren’t book readers; they weren’t deep thinkers; they weren’t creative. They spent their days focusing on the day to day trivia of life, and particularly that of their neighbours!

Living here was not for Chloe. But if she went back to where she had come from there was also nothing, just a bunch of bad memories. She’d be starting from scratch too. She had neither the energy nor the cash to do that. But staying here was a pit of nothingness too: emotionally dead, empty, a sinkhole that was sucking the life out of her.

She lay there on bridge looking up at the sky, imagining the abyss her life had become. She pondered the same question that always came up: how to change it? She couldn’t go back; she couldn’t stay here in the present, so she had to create a future. She had to move forward. But to where? And would it be any better there? – Would it be any better anywhere?

She had lived in so many places, tried so many things, and still she came to this point: bored, empty, lonely and disconnected. And was the lack of connection them or her? Was she doing something wrong? Was it all her, as so many indicated? Too intense, too deep, too real – that’s what they kept on telling her. Too open, too talkative, too keen – none of it won her any friendships. She was tired of trying, and believing there were people out there like her. She was tired of telling herself she just need to find the ‘right people’. She had started to believe that there were no ‘right’ people – she was just wrong.

She had no ties, she had no commitments (short of her job), and she had no connections holding her in one place. She used to be thrilled by that idea: free to go where she wanted, when she wanted and how she wanted. But the thrill had worn off. She felt like she was drifting, like a fish in a strong current trying to stay in one place. She wanted to feel connected, needed, valued. But she no longer believed it would happen in this lifetime.

Then came the next thought; one that went through her mind more often than it should: “Who would miss her if she was gone?” She couldn’t think of one single person. There was no family, no friends to speak of – although a few might be sad initially but it would be short lived. And people might wonder why, but really it wouldn’t matter what they wondered, she wouldn’t be here to care about it.

Chloe rolled over onto her front and looked down at the water. It churned and roiled, throwing up its rage at being pushed around by the sides of the river and the boulders in its midst. It foamed, and spat great white plumes into the air, the recent heavy rains swelling it, testing its patience as it rushed along. You could try and swim in it, but it would pull you under, bend you to its will, and Chloe had never been a strong swimmer, never had official lessons. 

She knew if she thought about it for too long it wouldn’t happen, so she pushed herself forward until her torso was over the edge of the bridge, and under the bottom rung of the wooden side protectors. She let her upper body drop over, enjoying the thrill of the rushing water underneath.

She paused, wondering if she could do it, but then felt her bottom cheeks brush the underside of the wood panel above and her weight shift forward. A moment of panic rushed through her as she attempted to grab at the edge above her, but the movement caused a further shift and before she knew it she was tumbling and hitting freezing water.

The last thing Chloe St. James registered was the sensation of being churned like she was in a giant washing machine. Then her head hit against something and she was gone.


  1. Great picture this week. So many stories could be told. I settled on this one.

    She Was Free

    1. Really liked that, and where it went at the end. I always try to get a picture that can say many things. Thanks for joining.

    2. Hi Mere, you did manage to put this comment here, so something works. Click on the Add comment below this and just copy and paste your link in. I can then turn it into an active link for you.

    3. Oh yay. Will try that now

    4. That link didn't work, but I did manage to get it to work. You shouldn't have the piece in front, as otherwise it doesn't go to your site, but to the main wordpress site.

      I will get it posted up for you.

    5. Are you on social media at all? connect with me on Twitter if you are there, or on Facebook.

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

    1. Love the original take on this, despite the heavy content of the story.