Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Circe

PHOTO PROMPT, Copyright - Claire FullerPHOTO PROMPT, Copyright – Claire Fuller

This is my second 100-word story-attempt based on the above photo-prompt on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers blog-site.  Hope you like it.

Genre: Mythological Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Circe

©July 2nd, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

You will not believe me, but I have to tell someone.

Come close and listen.  Listen well.  No, don’t look around you at the animals.  Regard this statue.  Doesn’t he look handsome?  Doesn’t he look real?

What was that?  Yes, the story.

His name was … perhaps you’ve heard of him?  He was a sailor whom I lured to my island.

I was hungry for love.

Unfortunately, everything I touched turned into an animal, all, except for him.  He turned to stone.

What?  Release him?  Why should I?  I’ve crowned him king, and he won’t ever sail away.

I’m lonely here.

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Reigning Supreme

PHOTO PROMPT, Copyright - Claire Fuller

PHOTO PROMPT, Copyright – Claire Fuller

This is in response to the above photo-prompt for this week’s “Friday Fictioneers,” which appears on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.  Every week, writers from around the world write a story based on the given photo-prompt on her site –and we have to do it in 100 words or fewer.  Here’s mine.

Genre: Semi-realistic, semi-historical fiction

Word Count: 100

Reigning Supreme

©July 2nd, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

“Ozzie, this won’t make a difference,” said the brave Queen to the King.

Honesty was her greatest gift.  It was also her downfall.

No one questioned him and lived.

The statue he commissioned was completed.   Alas, the sculptor was also repaid with death, because the King wanted no replicas.  He was that sort of king.

Eventually, everything in his kingdom fell apart.  He died.  Only the statue remained.  Then, even that crumbled.

A traveller to his land found this on the pedestal:  “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”*

Only dust reigned.

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*With apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley.

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