I’ve actually published over 200 articles on Medium now. The milestone crept up on me when I wasn’t paying attention.
A lot of them have been based on prompts that I’ve found in various publications. They have been either a word or a picture, designed to set an author’s imagination going.
I’m a bit busy, with little time to write new content. I thought I’d show you a couple of my favourites.
This short story is based on a picture prompt from March this year. Thanks to Lodestar Gazette and CJ Coop for the idea.
I’d never been to Ashington Wells before, although I knew where it was. It was a tiny village, on the edge of the moor and it had a reputation for being an unfriendly place. Everyone knew that the residents kept to themselves and didn’t like visitors.
I remember my father telling me that he’d been to the pub once, for a dare with a few of his mates. He said that all conversation had stopped as they walked inside. Everyone had stared at them. The atmosphere was hostile and unwelcoming. Requests for a drink were ignored.
To make it worse, as they left, they heard the conversation start again. Even for a country village, this was unusual. “I never went back,” he said, “and I never will.”
I wouldn’t have gone there on this particular evening. If only my car hadn’t broken down on the way to a party in Ashington Common, the village in the next valley across.
It was already dark when the car decided to stop, just by the turning and the sign that told me Ashington Wells was one mile away, while Ashington Common was five. The headlights and all the lights on the dashboard went out. No amount of turning the key would persuade the engine to turn over. I flicked the light switches but nothing happened.
“Do you have a torch?” My friend, Dave, asked me. “Perhaps a fuse has blown or maybe the starter’s stuck.”
My knowledge of cars was limited to putting petrol and oil in, I shrugged. “I have no idea how to fix any of that. Let’s walk to the pub in Wells. We can use their phone.”
“I don’t know,” he replied, probably wishing that he’d got a lift with someone else. “I’ve heard bad things about it there.”
“So have I but there’s no other way of getting help.”
We set off, up and over a steep hill towards the village. As we approached, we could see it below us, lit up by moonlight through gaps in the clouds. It all seemed so quiet and peaceful.
We walked along the deserted and unlit street towards the pub. Dim lights flickered in every window. A cloud obscured the moon and it was suddenly dark in its shadow. Then there was a low rumble, like the deepest bass guitar note you could imagine. It felt like the Earth shook for a second. Dave and I exchanged nervous glances.
At every house, the front doors flew open and people appeared. They came out into the street and started running, towards and past us. We were bumped and jostled by them. “Where are you all going,” I shouted as one pushed past me. An old man, he wore a rapturous grin on his wizened face. He clutched the hand of an old woman, her face identically ecstatic.
“We’re going home,” he shouted, “at last, after all these years. That was the call, we’ve been rescued.”
What was he talking about? The group ran past the pub, growing in size as more people poured from it. They ran so fast that it was impossible to keep up.
Caught up in the moment and desperate to see what was going on, we followed the stragglers as quickly as we could. We ran past the last few houses, out of the village and through a gate into a field. A dark shape was in front of us. Like the bulk of a hill, only far too close to us to be one.
“Stop right there,” shouted a tall, broad man, planting himself in front of us. “You’re not part of us. You’re not from the village.”
“What’s happening?” I asked him. “Why did you all run here?”
“We’re going home. At last. It’s not for your eyes,” he said. Hands grabbed me from behind, a bag was pulled over my head. Before the light was shut out, I saw Dave struggling as the same thing was being done to him. Then I felt a blow on the back of my head and it all went dark.
I woke to feel the ground shaking. Quickly I sat up and pulled the bag from my head.
Beside me, in the damp grass, Dave was doing the same. I looked around, just in time to see a huge shape rise into the air. Brightly lit with rows of lights, it blocked out the stars. The rumbling ceased, replaced by the whoosh of displaced air. It got smaller until it was just another point of light in the sky. Then it was gone.
“What just happened?” said Dave.
“You heard him,” I said. “They’ve been rescued. They’re going home.”
I hope you enjoyed that.
Find the others in this short series here.
If you subscribe to Medium, you can find me, and the rest of my stories, here.
I’d love to get your comments, please leave them below. While you’re here, why not take a look around? There are some freebies and lots more content, about me, my writing and everything else that I do. You can join my newsletter for a free novella and more news by clicking this link.
Leave a Reply