Tuesday 3 March 2020

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 147

This week's picture prompt is by Andrew Ferez, a Russian artist illustrator. He calls this one Violinist. You can check out more of his art on his Deviant Art page where he is 25karitnok.

This week's tale is a small and abstract, less story more dream, but it's what I see when I look at the picture. 

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.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Joining an orchestra

She was going to play to her own tune. She didn’t care what others thought, she could make her own beautiful music.

It was this decision that made her step away, and break off from the rest of society – a society that had already started to disconnect and separate itself from each other with the advent of technology.

With the wind in her skirt and a pack on her back, she stepped away from the busy world and sought out the empty places; places she could hear and listen to her soul to know what she truly wanted and needed. On the journey she met others that had made similar choices to her and together they wove their own network, a community of sorts, but spanning more than just one place as they travelled around.

Before she knew it she was up on cloud nine riding high, feeling more connected than she had ever done: feeling her existence, her life, her body and most of all love. Not romantic but the shared kind that came from being around people who were kindred spirits and understood you on a deep level; the kind of people you could talk to on any subject with no judgement and who listened with their hearts not their minds. It made her heart open and it’s how she wanted to stay forever.

And forever it became as she created a keystone: buying land and building a retreat. It became the centre of their web (a physical one rather than an electronically produced one), somewhere for people to come and rejuvenate and connect again with what was true for their soul.

She might have started out with the intention of disconnecting, but it led to a more profound connection to herself and others, and enabled her to create an opportunity for others to experience the same. Her sole violin joined an orchestra of others.   


  1. What a lovely little piece. Found that really nice.

  2. Here's my take on this amazing picture that really didn't need a story. Presenting The Valiant Violinist hope you enjoy it.

    1. Wow, brilliant! And superb use of the prompt.

    2. Thank you, Miranda. That was a tough prompt, Had to work for this one. Glad you liked it.

  3. A light in the darkness
    The chill crept further up my spine as the flashlight revealed a sea of bones as far as I could see. I treaded lightly in the swampy, marsh land. My own bones were soaked. An eerie feeling leeched onto my body. Despite my journey just beginning, my demise was soon to be over if I didn’t locate the missing key.
    The beaming light of the flashlight flickered in and out. Fear replaced the determination I once had. Complete darkness frightened me the most, more than the sea of discarded bones.
    “Please don’t die…please.” I begged. A half-hearted laugh escaped my dry, lips. “Get a hold of yourself, Jess. You can’t lose it now.” Shifting my backpack on my shoulders, I held the flashlight tightly in my grasp. The sea of bones was just the stepping stone. If my grandmother Blease was right, I would soon be entering the land of the dead, solid, dry land. A sense of calm washed over my once terrified body as I soon entered the deads’ playground. Old gravestones littered the deserted field.
    “Come my child, it’s time to go.” A hand touched my shoulder and squeezed lightly. A startled scream escaped my parted lips. “Shh…don’t be afraid my dear, I won’t hurt you.”
    “Who are you?” My voice cracked with a trembling fear. Her voice was eerily familiar. But I couldn’t be. Her beloved grandmother was dead and gone.
    “That isn’t important right now. We must go now. He is coming for us!” Loud screeching sounds echoed among the painful echoes of the dead. “Do you have the key?” She questioned me.
    “No, I’m sorry.”
    “It doesn’t matter; we will come back for it. Do you have your violin?”
    “Yes…” My voice trailed off as she pushed me in the direction of a headstone. Blease Hallowell, beloved mother and grandmother. Born May 23rd, 1800 Died 2000. Two hundred years old? What in the hell is going on here?
    I fumbled in the backpack for the violin. I chose a childhood lullaby. “Walk me home.” Soothing sound of vibrations was beautifully played on the string instrument as my fingers touched the strings.
    The ground altered, opening up as if it were swallowing us whole. The green grass transformed into stairs, leading into pure darkness.
    “Do not be afraid my dear, it’s going to be alright. I promise.” I stopped playing the music as the screams increased. He was getting closer to us.
    “Don’t stop playing. Close the portal. You must hurry!” A portal? Was this woman crazy or what? I had no clue.
    My fingers ached with pain as I played the final chords louder. As the stairs vanished, we were swallowed up by darkness.

  4. The violinist of the dead was an old family secret. A supernatural power only the women inherited from the mother’s side. The witches curse, something I had always heard about. At sixteen, I was wiser beyond my youth.
    My cries were like tiny whimpers.
    “Stop being a wimp. You are the violinist of the dead for Pete’s sake!” The words were harsh and bitter. A single tear drop escaped and ran down her cheek. Thank god for the darkness to conceal her sudden weakness.
    “Where are we anyways?”
    “Don’t you know my dear? Or do I need to explain it to you?”
    Despite my brief knowledge of the family secrets, my mother’s sudden death as a young child left me treading in uncharted waters. Grandma Blease, bless her soul tried to teach me of the ways of the witches. But I was a very stubborn child, and only cared about myself until it was too late to turn back the hands of the clock.
    “Use your flashlight; it’s too bloody hell dark in here to see a damn thing.”
    I fiddled around in the dark, trying to locate it. But no luck, it was gone. I must have dropped it somewhere in the cemetery when I played. Now what do we do now?
    “No.” I spoke above a whisper, suddenly afraid of her words. She laughed instead.
    “My dear, sweet child, you have the power in you. Close your eyes and just believe.”
    In the darkness, my face squinted with confusion. Closing my eyes, my thoughts were of a light to guide us through the darkness. A cheer of happiness erupted beside me. We were safe and almost free.
    “You did it child.”
    A small beam of light appeared in the distance.

    To be continued…

  5. Thanks for the lovely prompt image, Miranda! I love your rebel violinist. Well done! Here's my take: Wunderkind
    Loved all the other stories, as well! Great job, everyone!

  6. I know. I'm weeks behind the challenge again. But, words found their way out of me.

    Inside My Eyelids (13)

    1. I think you're catching up quite well. I'm week's behind reading! Another intense piece. Thanks for joining.