vignette

[marycatelli]

This week's prompt is:
stone

Anyone can join, with a 50-word creative fiction vignette in the comments. Your vignette does not have to include the prompt term.

Comments

[marycatelli]

The entrance way was a stone arch, over a stone stab as large as the flagstones in the church. Though the arch did not extend far, or should not have, Angela could not quite see through it.
It brought back memories of every late-night scary story told by cruel acolytes.

[marycatelli]

She shivered.
Ivan, of course, was still and controlled, his arm steady under her hand as they walked past grave stone after grave stone. She could wish she had suggested that they come by day, but she could not suggest that they go back now.
"There," said Ivan. Tiffany looked.

[marycatelli]

They had put the throne on a dais.
For a moment, as he walked across the floor, Aidan tried to tell himself it was just a chair, however fancy, and the dais was merely a slab of stone, but it was hard to fool himself here.
He sat for judgment.

[marycatelli]

The steps had been carved into the rock, not built of hewn stone. The air felt damp and cold. They descended in silence.
Which, Autumn supposed, was only prudence. Stone made their footsteps echo. Their words would betray more, and they had seen nothing to make them change their plans.

[jbellinger]

A misshapen eye-socket forced his good eye askew, and the little man had more scars than a gladiator. His powerful limp was almost like a sailor's.
"His eye?" I asked.
"He was stoned," Phillip answered. "And flogged. But he keeps going."
"He must be a great preacher."
"No, he's terrible."