THE END OF THE RAINBOW

Picture of Storybook Island by Jeffrey Hammel from Google Maps

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The End of the Rainbow

© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019

You can’t see me, little girl, you can’t!

Stop looking at me, little girl, stop looking!

No, I’m not going to wave at you because you’re waving at me, because I’m busy trying to hide my pot of gold, all right!

Sheesh – have I got to make another rainbow, slide along those sharp colours by the seat of my pants again? Cut myself to ribbons yet again? Have I? Have I? Hmmm!

Please, little girl, just look away. Please, please, pretty sugar and spice and all things nice please, look away.

Fine.

How about closing your eyes and counting to fifty? That’s right, I’ll play hide and seek with you. You count to fifty and I’ll hide my pot of life savings. When you open your eyes, if you can find them they’re yours… if you can’t, well, I will just add your soul to my collection of golden coins.

(150 words)

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The above story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:

Black Hills, South Dakota

You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’  stories inspired by this week’s prompt.

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Thank you, as ever, Karen and Josh, for hosting this great weekly prompt, and for everyone who takes part.

THE LAP OF NIRVANA

Picture by Randolfo Santos from Google Maps

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The Lap Of Nirvana

© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019

Mist rises to find another day, new or old doesn’t matter. Young or old, I don’t matter. All that matters is today. 

Today my feet kiss this steep path as it rises heavenward while boulders of sweat kiss me. I love these views and am honoured to be offered them again. It seems an unfair exchange for this weight crushing my back.

In the unyielding heat, this basket load of stone tools becomes a basketfull of fruit, which then becomes a basket overflowing with flowers, whose fragrance buoys me at the steepest part of my journey, where my scrabbling fingers bleed to bone and my lungs dry up.

Now stone becomes me, I can begin to understand how they might feel. Only then can I be ready to resume work.

Hundreds of us resume together, chisseling and carving, what we will see when this life frees us from the next.

(150 words)

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The above story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:

The Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan, on the Himalayas’ eastern ridge.

You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’  stories inspired by this week’s prompt.

Click here to enter

Thank you, as ever, Karen and Josh, for hosting this great weekly prompt, and for everyone who takes part.

THE GOLD RUSH

Picture from The Gold Rush Amusement Arcade, Great Yarmouth by Adam Hulewicz on Google Maps

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The Gold Rush

© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019

‘Bad penny.’ Rupert scowled as his coin rolled the wrong way. ‘Bad!’ He tried again and again, got more excited with each penny until he threw a handful of them at the machine and laughed.

‘Hey, Rupert, hey.’ His mum smiled as she picked up the scattering coins.

Pushing his forehead into the glass, Rupert rocked himself.

‘Oi! No rocking the machines!’ Shaking two fat fists, the tattooed man stomped out of the Change kiosk. ‘I said enough!’ He shoved Rupert away from the Two Penny Waterfall.

Rupert’s mother gasped as her son thumped onto his backside. ‘You baboon! Can’t you see he’s harmless?’

Eyes focussing on something only he could see, Rupert rocked like crazy.

‘Don’t you baboon me! No rocking the machines. Management rules!’ The man shoved Rupert’s mother towards the exit. ‘Now, hop it, before I lose it!’

‘Bad penny,’ snarled Rupert, hurtling toward the man. ‘Bad!’

(150 words)

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The above story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:

Great Yarmouth, UK

You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’  stories inspired by this week’s prompt.

Click here to enter

Thank you, as ever, Karen and Josh, for hosting this great weekly prompt, from CrimsonProse for suggesting the locations, and for everyone who takes part.

Book Promotion

Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

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To celebrate the release of my latest collection of flash fiction, FLASHES of WEATHER, my first two anthologies of short stories, Short Stories In A Year and Love I Am are on a special offer price of 0.99 (cents and dollars). Exclusive to Kindle.

Short Stories In a Year contains my competition winning and shortlisted stories from the year of the Short Story in 2012.

Love I Am contains thirteen longer style short stories from an MA in Creative writing, including those that were published in anthology compilations and long listed for The Bristol Prize Literary Festival.

Hurry, this is a limited offer! (Oh dear that sounds rather cheesy!)

Sincerely

Kelvin

😎

A ROARING LIFE

City Hall Lion, Corina Laszio, Google Maps

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A Roaring Life

© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019

I see you lurking behind those dark glass windows. You think I cannot see you ducking behind those blocks of bright plastic, but I have always seen you.

I hear you flicking nervously through book after book during the school holidays, every school holiday, even Christmastime. You make this library your home, you have to, I know you have to.

I smell you, that rank odour of fear from your twenties to your forties. Thirty years of malodour. It is enough to rankle my stone nose.

You need to get a life. I should give you a life. One roar from me and you will find some courage to climb my Guidhall steps and lay your trembling hands upon me.

One touch is all it will take.

I am no Aslan though. There is no magic in me. The magic lies within you. I long for you to discover it.

(150 words)

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View of Guildhall Square, Stephen Burns, Google Maps:

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The above “Talking Statue” story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:

Portsmouth in Hampshire, UK

You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’  stories inspired by this week’s prompt.

Click here to enter

Thank you, as ever, Karen and Josh.

MONUMENTAL

Ernest Hemingway Bust, Николай Максимович, Google Maps

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Monumental

© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019

I had this dream once. I saw a sky bluer than anything I could imagine. This blueness was sublime, as if my eyes had been painted with a new palette. To meet such an artist filled me with desire, I think.

I know the sun shone brightly in this new sky. I stared at this sun for ages without burning my eyes. This sun that was directly above me as if I were laying down, yet I knew I was upright. I couldn’t feel my body though, only my head… my shoulders, which now seemed widened by experience. Such sensations as these never occurred in dreams.

Refocussing on this amazing blueness, I watched it expand the world around me. Near and far I experienced the intensity of this new colour, this new life. To remember more I began writing like never before. I would love to know if I finished.

(150 words)

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View from Ernest Hemingway’s Statue, Matthias Hering, Google Maps:

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View of Ernest Hemingway’s Statue from afar, Roberto Cabezas, Google Maps:

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The above “Talking Statue” story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:

Cardenas, Cuba

You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’  stories inspired by this week’s prompt.

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A NEW ART SCHOOL

Picture of Old Art School by Raul Garcia on Google

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A NEW ART SCHOOL

© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019

Pedro scratched in the dust with his fingertips. Colours seeped towards the peeling plaster on those cracked columns. Slowly, everything brightened. Standing, he gesticulated rainbow-coloured fingers and sang nervously. He didn’t know what the words meant, but he remembered them from when he sat on his Nanna’s knee. She would sing him asleep. She would sing him awake.

Unsure if he was awake or asleep, Pedro continued painting the dust, with great flourishes of his arms as if he were a dictator of old, followed by delicate brushstrokes as if his fingers were butterfly wings.

Quickly the empty windows and doorways filled with faces. People’s eyes glistened with tears yet their smiles shone through the dust choking their lips. Fear and pride swirled in their hearts.

Clutching his heart, Pedro chewed his bottom lip. These  people were his family, were all he knew. Together, they must fill this place again.

(150 words)

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The above story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:

Santa Ana, El Salvador

You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’  stories inspired by this week’s prompt.

Click here to enter