Tuesday, 8 November 2011


Kelley YorkHeather McCorkleChrista Desir, and E.R. King of YAtopia are hosting a month-long blogfest in November for anyone who loves their YA books on the darkside. 

I loved writing a piece of dark Flash Fiction for this Blogfest.

November 9th: Write a 500-word or less flash fiction piece inspired by this picture:

                                NEARLY HOME

When she stumbled through the woodland, Freya’s dress snagged on trailing brambles and thorn bushes. The space seemed huge and her ignorance sickened her as it slowed her. Freya pressed her hands against her sockets to protect her sensitive eyes. She bit her lip and snaked a foot forward. She trod on twigs more substantial than her fine-boned frame - had no more strength than those dried fingers of wood. She took another step when she’d controlled the shivers that ran through her. 
Insensitive, the wind almost achieved what her imprisonment had failed to do: Freya swayed when the breeze cut through the fine dress; it almost blew her determination away with it. She pulled her elbows closer to her chest to shield herself. There would never be another opportunity to escape. Slowly, she made painful progress from that hell. Freya was afraid. She didn’t know what might be ahead but she was more afraid of who she'd left behind.

Except for her own slow paces, there were no other footsteps.  He, the deep voice that sneered and laughed in the darkness, had told her she was weak. The bucket she’d lashed out with said he’d lied.

It wasn’t something seen or heard, Freya felt the darkening around her.

“ Who’s there?” she whispered. Unable to see, she lifted her chin, tilted her head. She strained to understand the faint noises until pain spasmed in her neck and aches raked inside her throat. Soft sounds, the steps and scrapes, although they were more quiet than her own footsteps they alarmed her.  
“Show me where you are!” his voice hissed. 
Freya dropped to her knees and swallowed her breath. What could he see? What did he know? She could wait and hope but what good would that do for her. She crawled. Under her palms and knees, the shells and nuts, the thorns and vines that dug into her were agony. Agony and hope. The dawn had brightened and, without protection, it seemed to Freya that she crawled into a golden ball of pain. But, the sun rose and bathed the front of her house with that kind of glow and beech trees grew in the woods there. Ignoring the seeping damp that glued decomposing shards of leaves to her hands and knees, Freya was fuelled by the hope that she was heading home.
Opening her eyes to slits, she recognised the house in the distance. She sobbed and pushed herself up until she stumbled forward. She staggered. Rebounding from tree to tree her arms bruised and bleeding, her foot slipped in soft mud. With a shake of her head and gulp of air Freya tried to stand again. Her dress ripped, she couldn't tear it free. She searched, hands seeking for the branch that trapped her.
With knee on her back, he pinned her. "Did you think I'd let you go?" He laughed as he caressed her throat, "Let's go home, honey. You don’t want to be there. You’re mine."

I'm enjoying writing this November. 



  1. Awesome! The ending lines tie the whole piece together. Great tension!

  2. Thank you E.R. :)

    You can tell the whole thing took an hour, I love the fact that 'trough' got through in the first publication. I got back from my meeting and tea, restarted, took one look a fell over just like Freya ;)
    I was trying to get veins running through it too.

  3. ACK. I'm going to be an optimist and hope that she gets away again!

    Also, this line - "The bucket she’d lashed out with said he’d lied" - has to be my favorite. Go Freya!

  4. With each word I could picture the scene in my head. A great story and like Becky I'm also going to be an optimist and hope that she gets away :)

  5. Hi Becky and Theresa
    Thank you. I'm glad you could visualise the scene.Poor Freya. It didn't end well for her, yet. ;)

  6. I agree with E. R. King - love the closing line!
    - http://pensuasion.blogspot.com/

  7. Wow, you really create a lot of tension that captures the picture perfectly. There is a whole world in this piece. Wonderful writing. I love Freya's struggle, but do hope she gets out. You got me to care about her.

  8. Hi SL
    Thank you :) I think this makes my fourth ever short story. It's such a challenge, creating the the whole three part story, characterisation and backstory in 500 words.

    Hi Shell
    Thanks * blushes
    In a situation like Freya's, escape or the hope of escape must be all that would keep a person going.

  9. Wow! This is dark, ad creepy and intense. I like the almost complete lack of hope at the end.

  10. Awesome! Love the last lines!!

  11. Hi Kate and Kelley

    Thank you both :D
    It is a fairly hopeless situation.