‘The weekend is finally here, and that means that it’s high time for a glimpse into a new story. Well, to be more precise, a flash fiction that might have the potential to become a more complex story..… eventually.’ Alexandra Ispas
Today I’m reblogging original fiction written by a lady I Follow and yes the story is written for meee!!
Okay I should be less obtuse and qualify my boldish claim by saying authoress Alexandra Ispas’s blog ‘It’s A Small World’ is a place she write’s flash fiction every weekend, (my own reading genre isn’t fantasy but who says you must read specific genres?) Anyways retuning to this my introduction, Alexandra chooses a favourite album song of hers then writes a tale inspired by that song’s narrative and I enjoy reading her tales.
I only realised days later February 9th was my birthday as well! (Lol 😀 ?)
If you wish to read the lady’s original post click here: U2’s Where The Street’s Have No Name or alternately read below 🙂 and if you are a U2 fan then you’ll know doubt spot a few song lyrics in there. Enjoy 🙂
(This time I’ll be creating a fantasy flash fiction out of U2’s song, ‘Where The Streets Have No Name’, a song requested by A. Shepherdson. Cheers for the inspiring idea!
Now, to get straight to the point, here’s a little fantasy for your craving imagination. I know you want it!)
An old man once told me that there’s a place without a name, a safe haven in a forgotten corner of the world. He said all contact with the outside was broken, so that peace and quiet would prosper.
These days, I craved for peace and quiet like I’d crave for air if it were to be taken from me. Yes, I craved peace and quiet like a page craves for ink and a flower craves for sunlight. I could do without it for a little while, but it wouldn’t be long before it would swallow me up and devour me to the core.
He told me:
“Take the street that has no name until all your love turns to rust. Beware the beating of the wind, but don’t fear it. Take shelter from the poison rain, for it is bound to strike if your path is true, and unnamed obstacles will slow you to a halt. Remember, it is better to pause and continue later than turn around and return where you began.”
I never found the street without a name. I asked for it, but, of course, all streets needed a name, so nobody knew one without it. Nobody in the mortal world. That could only mean one thing: the street without a name was in another world, one I took for certain was impossible to exist. Was the Faerie Realm truly real? And the Elven Forest and Giants’ Mountain? How about the Siren’s Lagoon and the Dragon’s Pearl Haven?
For the first time in my life, I saw these children’s stories with a whole new pair of eyes, but it was still too difficult to believe. In spite of all logic, I returned to the old man’s house at the edge of the village and ask him. What exactly, I would think about on the way, maybe, but I knew I had to see him. He was my only lead.
I only arrived as darkness fell like a curtain. As expected it appeared like the old man was home. Pale light shone through the smoky windows and the smoke of a warming fire rose through the chimney, its clouds disappearing without a trace in the night.
Knocking at the door didn’t help, so I allowed myself in with careful movements. Maybe he was asleep.
But what I found inside was nothing like what I had seen my last time there, and neither did I find the old man I was looking for. There was no chimney fire lighting up the furnished room and no presence of life whatsoever. As a matter of fact, the place I entered was not a room at all.
The stories were real.
I was in the Faerie Realm.
©Alexandra Ispas 2019 (She also write’s cookery posts!)
(Yesterday’s visit to a famous Victorian London cemetery didn’t go entirely to plan, I had a lovely day but alas didn’t take any photos, in fact no one in our Tour Group did and perhaps the reason is a simple ‘photographing the dead is yes a little disrespectful’, but I’ll maybe still write about the day.)