9th #SatSunTails

Welcome to the ninth #SatSunTails micro fiction competition.

Be warned – the prompts aren’t easy, but that’s so you can write to the best of your ability.

If you haven’t had a go before at this writing challenge, then please don’t hesitate to try this weekend.


  • Post stories in the comments
  • Stories must be 150 words (margin of 5 words either side) AND based on the picture and written prompts.
  • If you title your entry this is not counted in your word count.
  • Only one entry allowed (so make it count)
  • End each entry with word count and name/twitter handle (if you forget these REPLY TO YOUR OWN COMMENT with them before judging closes)
  • You may enter until Monday 10am GMT (because I’m extra kind like that).

If you do not comply with these rules your story will be disqualified from judging. Good spelling and grammar will also help to make a better impression on judges – the odd typo, however, will be overlooked so please don’t worry about that.

For tips, read through the critiques from last week’s entries.


There will be ONE OVERALL WINNER and THREE RUNNERS UP. After that there will be THREE CRITIQUES of three stories that didn’t make it.

It would also be nice to those participating if you could promote your fellow competitors and those who win.

Today’s Prompt!

The following may be used as a sentence in your story OR provide a basis for it:-

“my/your/their/our aging iridescent dreams”

And here is your picture prompt:

& good luck!

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12 thoughts on “9th #SatSunTails”

  1. Awakening from yet another dream, I fought off the damp sheets that had tangled themselves around me. Once again, my restless slumber terminated just before Gonjeren sunk his tusks into my belly. I calmed my panting breath, and took a sip of water from a glass on the bedside table.

    On the surface, Gonjeren, with his anthropomorphic aspect and porcine features, represented fear, depression and loathing. Death comes to us all, and not always in the manner of our choosing. But, could there be more?

    Pondering the meaning of my nightly horror, I had a revelation. Each night I ran. Each night he chased me, yet never succeeded before my awaking. Even more, I always drew him away from my family. They survived. I survived.

    Maybe my aging iridescent dreams call on hope and love instead of morbid and macabre things. Yeah, I choose to see it that way.

  2. Aging Dreams
    By Lisa McCourt Holalr

    She sat in the park, listening to the babbling of the children nearby. It seemed like only yesterday she’d been one of them, running, laughing , playing; life was good when you were young.

    Closing her eyes, Fran remembered the dreams she and her besties had spun as they walked by the very brook she now dipped her toes in. All of them gone, along with their dreams.

    Sandy had wanted to be a mother, but she married Sean Anders. He beat her, leaving her barren inside.

    Marian always talked about becoming an actress. Instead she wound up on the streets, selling herself.

    Fran came the closest to her dreams. She wrote, published, became famous. But she never fell in love, the only dream that eluded her. There was never anyone that caught her fancy.

    “How’s the water?”

    Fran looked up into steal eyes and gray hair. He smiled and she felt her heart melt.

    Word Count: 155

  3. Dang it! Didn't think to spell check my name, thought I was smart enough to get HOLLAR right, lol. Jeff is so gonna tease me about this.


    Placid eddies of the icy fluid oozed over Melantha’s body, seeking entrance. She didn’t need to breathe, but it was hard remembering not to. Pulled down into soul-crushing darkness she cursed the crone’s propensity for theatrics.

    “What do you want, old woman?” The succubus projected her thoughts into blackness.

    “Have you forgotten the debt you owe me?”

    Melantha brushed a hand through her hair over her horns, “If this is just another of your reminders, I’m leaving.”

    “Ah, but where has the light gone? The light from our aging iridescent dreams?”

    “Your dreams. You extinguished it when you sold your soul.”

    “Wait! I am calling in that favor.”

    “Very well.”

    “I have a book. Deliver it to a young boy. You’ll know him when you see him.”

    The ancient tome’s weight burned Melantha’s hands. She bit her lip to keep from screaming as it seared her senses. This object was far more malevolent than her.

    155 words

  5. Sunlight on water. I throw a stone and watch it fragment, scatter into flecks of gold. Fairy treasure, I think. Or I would have thought that once. I would have seen dryads in the trees, heard whispers on the wind.

    Looking down I see my mother’s hands where mine once where. Broad, capable, worn by life. Red palms, blunt nails. Caring hands, working hands. I loved my mother’s hands but I don’t love mine.


    A child’s shout breaks my reverie. He drags an old stick from the water, laughs for the sheer pleasure of it. It’s a sword in his hand; he’s a knight, a soldier.

    I smile.

    Dreams. Fantasies. Truth.

    They don’t age, not really. I see the gold on the water once more, iridescent. It’s an enchantment cast by the Lady of the Lake. And I? I’m a sorceress. A queen.

    Myself again.

    Leaning back on the bench I laugh.

  6. The Way We Want

    The cold water flowed down the smooth bed of stone, carrying our dreams and memories. We welcomed our new freedom – our fate. Fortunately we had lived the way we wanted, if not always how we wanted. The stream of life flowed where it would, conveyed us, brought us joy and pain. Alas, all tributaries have their beginnings and their ends.

    I carried her in silence. She could not speak, I choose not to. Sounds of nature comforted us. From what depths did I draw this strength? At my age just hauling myself along was a triumph. But she seemed to have no weight.

    We approached the point of no return, the current strong, the water deep. I laid us down. I held her close. Clear water rushed down the stream, carrying us to the edge of no return. We would soon be memories, like our ageing iridescent dreams.

    148 Words

  7. Wishing away life and dreams.
     The water began to ripple as a short gust of wind ruffled his hair, he'd left it to grow out talking about it the way he used to. I could see a smile play upon his lips as it moved with the breeze. I'd seen that smile so many times, normally coupled with a sideways glance a glance that made me shiver reminded me I wasn't alone. 
    "Why now" I ask wary of the answer knowing it won't be the one I want.
    "Because I've given in Mary. Remember how I told you I couldn't understand how people did it?"
    "Of course I remember, you gave me hope."
    He turned his head look directly at me for the first time tonight pulling my gaze, reaching for my hand. 
    "I'm a dead man." He said swallowing with an audible gulp.
     I genuinely felt scared for him. I knew that this time the drugs hadn't worked.

    154 words
    Lilianna Vetter

  8. “Oh God no…”

    Time hadn't aged this memory, unfortunately. At least in the waking world it was repressable. Everything was still painfully vivid, but I could only ever watch on helplessly. She was beautiful then, or at least she was to me. There was a certain spark she had, her sense of adventure captivating.

    As we headed downstream, the current grew stronger. I was mildly worried, but she wasn't and that was comforting. “Come on, what you scared of?” she teased. We were kids. Invincible and untouchable, or at least it felt that way.

    Eventually the river was flowing fast enough to pull us off our feet. When I came up I found myself by the side, and held onto a tree. I saw her rise out of the water only a few feet from me, terror written all over her face. She was pulled under, again.

    She didn't come back up that time.

  9. The trickle of water burbled over the rocks as Joshua let his fingers trail in the water. His hands were riddled with liver spots and ached from the arthritis. His eyes watched as the water went around his fingers. He had wished he had made different decisions in his life. The summer before he had been married was the most carefree that he had.

    Dancing on the bank with the woman, her long silken hair flowing like the water around his hand. There had been something about her. He didn’t know what it had been. But he had a woman he had promised himself too and they had married and spent time together, aging iridescent dreams, as their saw their family and grandchildren.

    Perhaps things could have been different, if he had ignored convention and did what his heart had wanted.

    141 words

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