Friday, 31 January 2014

Unto the Seventh Generation

Visit Mr.Knowitall to post your own Friday Flash Fifty-Five Fiction!

The cry of the Hawk, the spring hatchling now flown meant soon his world would be mere sound.  For a man, now dust in the wind, had made bones of a country and punishment for his kin. 

As Joash screamed for his son, he hoped, as had his father, that he would be the last.


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13 comments:

  1. G-Man31 January 2014 at 15:27

    Hey...This one was deeply intense!
    very creative and perfect for the prompt.
    Loved your 55
    Thanks for playing, thanks for your fantastic support
    have a Kick Ass Week-End

    ReplyDelete
  2. hedgewitch31 January 2014 at 16:47

    The eternal struggle, well-limned here--a very satisfying cadence and series of images, as well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. John (@bookdreamer)31 January 2014 at 19:59

      Thanks, it could easily tip over into more formal poetry

      Delete
  3. Anonymous31 January 2014 at 19:01

    Very intense!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Alice Audrey31 January 2014 at 21:55

    Better to be screaming than be the last of your kind.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Margaret31 January 2014 at 23:59

    Leaves me with a sense of usefulness… just waiting for disaster.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Anonymous1 February 2014 at 08:11

    mythic and imaginative ~

    ReplyDelete
  7. Unknown4 February 2014 at 15:19

    Very cool and foreboding.

    ReplyDelete

Welcome and thanks for dropping in. I'll pop by yours by and by.

This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.

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