The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #36


The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #36

One Picture

One Element

One Emotion

200 Words

A Shooting Star over Stonehenge

A Message in a bottle


Please add your story in the comments below.

18 thoughts on “The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #36

  1. The unexpected

    Driving down the A303 at night, trying to get back to London after a rainy two week holiday in Torquay, Susan spotted what we’d missed on the way there.
    “Look, Daddy! I can see it on the horizon, as plain as day!”
    “Susan, it’s nighttime.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    As my wife slept in the passenger seat, Susan and myself admired the view of Stonehenge as we drove by. Once I’d put my eyes back on the road, Susan shook my shoulders.
    “Stop the car, Daddy.”
    “Not again, Susan. Can’t you hold it until we get home?”
    “No, not that. Look.”
    I parked the car in the nearest layby and turned back to see a green tailed meteor hurtling to the ground, only a few hundred metres away from the famous landmark. There was a flash of light to suggest an impact. Intrigued, I got out of the car and Susan following. With no one watching, we jumped over the fence encircling Stonehenge and found the meteor’s crater.
    “Go on, Daddy.”
    I climbed into the hole and found something extraordinary resting in the earth at the bottom.
    “Daddy? What is it?”
    “Err, it’s a message in a bottle…”

  2. They believe we are gone. Extinct. Destroyed to a man. As if they could have killed us all. No. They know better. Still, they want to believe that. That the world is more refined now. That there is no place for blue-faced warriors. For children who wield a dirk or a spear with the same easy nonchalance that these pampered pets handle cell phones. For women who fight,who kill, alongside their men – and enjoy it. We’ve let them go on believing that, suspended as we are somewhere between now and then here in our home at the center of the circle of stones. Now, though, ah now. The world is ripe for our return. The signs are all there. We can taste the bloodshed and hear the screams from here. Still it is weak. It is the sound of a worthless lamb lead to slaughter. People have forgotten how to go to war. They have forgotten why we must. We are calling ours together now, howls of wolves, messages in bottles, the cry of own to own. Soon. Soon we will strap on our weapons. Soon we will paint our faces, put on our silver chain. Soon we will go to war. With fire and stone, with blood and screams, the Picts will return to claim what is ours.

  3. That’s ok. Good story. You have me see a little space man drink his space juice, poke a rolled up bit of paper, with his return address, into the bottle. Tightly screws on the cap and chucks overboard. Forgetting pull of the planet he’s flying over, his bottle doesn’t float in space. Gravity takes over, the bottle hurtles to earth. Kaboom!
    Then you and Susan arrive. “Daddy! How many postage stamps to send a letter back?”

  4. .In spite of growing up near a beach, Jan had only once found a message in a bottle. It was from ‘The Wizard’ who predicted the finder of the message would achieve world acclaim. Jan (ten) and her brother Sam (eleven) took it very seriously indeed.

    Jan became a nurse, a mother of three and a keen shutterbug. The first time she’d photographed Stonehenge, people were permitted to wander where they wanted, meaning every shot included people.

    The second time, decades later, was from Sam’s gyrocopter. After obtaining permission to fly over the monuments, they swooped over Stonehenge like a giant dragonfly. Jan’s aerial shots were amazing.

    The third time, she was one of hundreds confined to a concrete walkway, peering through a boundary fence. She’d jammed her lens between the wires for a time-exposure. As she took the shot, a brilliant shooting star streaked across the evening sky, the photo of a lifetime.

    In an interview when her book ‘The Living Stonehenge’ became an international best-seller, Jan told the story of the message-in-a-bottle.
    Later that day, she received an email.

    “Told you so!” it read. It was signed, ‘The Wizard’.

    Who was ‘The Wizard’?

    Jan smiled.

    Sam had always loved intrigue.

  5. The Hack

    Tod wandered between the stones. The cops would never find him here. He could see their blue lights on the main A-road. Disappearing into the night. He’d had a bit of bad luck. Almost caught snooping on that MPs house. Then a bit of good luck, hitching a lift on that tourist bus to Stonehenge. With his camera bag, the tourists took him for one of them. Chatty crowd. Beers all round. No intrigue.

    Hunkered down out of the wind and any curious onlookers, he finished his beer and cast his mind back some thirty years to a school project on the stones. Done a scrapbook with pictures cut from a filched library book.

    Tod waited until the last tourist had gone before thinking of moving. But which direction? He looked at the tossed away beer bottle to his left, and caught the reflection of a flash of light in the sky. Message in a bottle. He headed off in that direction.

    He was lucky. Came upon a village and a pub with wifi. Tod sat down with a pint and breathed a sigh of relief. The covert photos on his camera would soon be winging to the highest bidder.

  6. Just an old Trekkie

    Not too long ago, I was on holiday in England to see the sights. Having seen all the ones in London, I ventured out to the countryside.

    Leaving the White Cliffs of Dover, I journeyed over to Stonehenge in Wiltshire. Arriving quite late in the evening, the site would soon be closing down. Not wanting to rush the experience, I hid myself until everyone else was long gone, then I came out to wander the grounds in the dark, alone.

    Ah, Stonehenge all to myself. It was beautiful. No one really knows for sure what its purpose was. Some think it was built in order to predict the movement of celestial bodies.

    I looked up into the night sky, and that’s when it happened: A streak of light and a flash; then it was gone.

    About 15 minutes later, something hit the ground with tremendous force. I went over and picked it up. It was container. Opening it, I found a note that read, “Not enough fuel to maintain orbit much longer; jettisoning and igniting all remaining fuel as a flair to signal Enterprise as to our location; Logical act of desperation. Signed … Spock.”

    “What? That episode aired over 30 years ago!
    What’s going on here?”

    Waking up in a local B&B, I realized it had been a dream, but I couldn’t remember how I got back here from Stonehenge.

    I’ve never resolved that mystery.

  7. I was 21 when I found the message that washed up shore on the space of beach behind my parent’s summer home. The message was short, and it read: Stonehenge, 23rd June, 2002.
    As years went by, I found myself on a plane to England, seeking out the old structure, hoping that the person that wrote the note would be there, waiting…hoping that they would be my perfect someone.
    There, sitting in the middle of the wonder was an old man. He was wearing a trench coat and he had a red rose in his hand. I walked over and brought the bottle with me. I smiled as I kneeled down and asked him if he had written the letter. A single tear fell down his cheek as he took my hand.
    “She told me that once the bottle was returned, I would know that she finally made it.”
    “My wife.”
    “I’m so sorry that I brought the bottle to you instead.”
    “No, dear girl, my wife has long passed. She told me to believe. I had given up on God, but thought I should come today. I promised my Elsa. And here you are…She’s in Heaven now.”

  8. Speeding along through the night, Agent Daly checked the GPS app on his phone which showed the destination as “51.1788° N, 1.8262° W”. Ten miles away, he had a good idea of where he was headed.

    On a date with a nice girl from Glastonbury, Daly excused himself when his cell rang. He picked it up and an electronically disguised voice told him to drive to the location that was just sent to his phone via SMS. The voice threatened that if he did not immediately comply, the delightful blonde sitting across from him would not make it back to her flat tonight. She would instead be found in an alley, naked with signs of sexual assault, and Daly’s DNA on her body.

    Daly had intended to get screwed tonight, but not like this.

    Stonehenge came into view as the GPS app announced Daly’s arrival to the input coordinates. Daly left his auto in the car park and walked towards the ancient monument. In the middle of the circle of stones, a bottle sat bathed in moonlight. Inside was a note.

    He removed the note and read it.

    “Dearest Spencer, I regret to inform you that I am filing for divorce, YOU CHEATING BASTARD!”

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