There are a number of places I send work to, it’s a bit to be expected really. Sometimes it works out sometimes it doesn’t. That is all part of life when you spend your time playing with words. Some of the stuff I share is part of a commitment I made with myself. The weekly pieces I share here are part of that. They keep me writing everyday, and in turn they keep me learning and growing as a writer.
I have another commitment I made with myself a while ago. This is a monthly flash fiction challenge piece for a UK listing. The Cult of Me blog is run by Michael Brookes, a writer and game designer. His monthly challenge is based on a picture prompt and the entrant is given a 500 world limit to create a story based on this prompt.
It’s a fun and interesting challenge, and there are prizes involved. (always feels good when you can win something) What follows is my second story to make it into the winners circle for the site. It was a third place finish but that is nothing to sneeze at.
After you check out my piece, make a trip over to the The Cult of Me and check out the stories that took top billings maybe even check out this month’s prompt. Maybe it will move you to write something.
Night of the Golem
Pillowy dark clouds pulled away at the sight of the moon. The hillock caressed by the soft light of the moon, revealed two figures crouched over a third form. No words were spoken as they stood and circled around the prone form.
One of the two picked up a shovel and pressed the blade into the moist earth. The cut of the blade echoed into the darkness as he worked. The second figure pulled the body on the ground away from the hole.
“How far you gonna dig that hole, Jim?” The first words spoken in a long silence. “We just need to get it buried, no more.”
Jim leaned against his shovel. “If that was all it is, I could be done at any time,” he said. “But you know we gotta make sure the body stays buried.” He pressed the blade of the shovel into the earth with his foot. “
“I just don’t want us going to the extreme for him, not for this one,” he said.
“You wanna be the one digging the grave?” Jim said. “This proves to me more and more that we need a better hobby.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious? We followed the directions exactly,” he said. “You did set the switch, didn’t you?”
Jim shoved the handle of the shovel into his hands. “Enough, I warned you,” he said. “You can finish the hole. Besides, Rick, none of them have worked yet. Why would you think this one would be different?”
“I don’t know,” Rick said. “Shelly’s book made it sound so easy, like we could figure this out?”
“Keep digging, we only need a few more feet,” Jim said. “Well, with this failure we need to slow down for a bit. People are going to question the strange sights in the cemetery at night. Besides, there are only so many graves you can steal parts from before people start to question the fresh earth on all of the graves.”
“I think we’re deep enough now,” Rick said. “Help me get the body into the hole.” He laid the shovel on the ground and reached for the body. Jim grabbed the feet and hoisted them out into the world. “On three let’s hoist it up and drop it into the hole. 1… 2… 3…”
The body landed in the hole with a juicy thud. “If we weren’t sure before, I think that would have confirmed it,” Jim said.
“Nope, I’m good. Let’s just finish this up,” Rick said. “Predators will be popping out of the woodwork.” He pushed dirt into the hole with the shovel. Jim walked around the edge of the hole and pushed dirt in with his feet.
When the clouds shifted and covered the moon, they lost sight of bottom of the hole. The scrape of the shovel and feet across the earth, the thud of the dirt into the hole covered the sounds of movement at the bottom.