What Pegman Saw -Without an Ark

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s prompt is Manitoba, Canada.

WPS - Without an Ark 190810

Without an ark

“Ninety degrees,” expostulated Marion, mopping her forehead. “Darn climate change!”

“Deep low-pressure area coming our way from Saskatchewan; twister weather. Stay careful and safe, folks!” announced the local radio station.

Marion’s husband, Hank, was back early that afternoon; he’d closed his business, sent the staff home when the severe weather warning had been broadcast.

Clouds were piling up, and there was a blur of rain on the horizon. The sun shone briefly below the clouds.

The rain began to fall, heavy drops, falling faster and faster, a stream of water, a cataract.

Their two children rushed in, bedraggled and sodden.

“Just look at you! Didn’t you see the rain coming?”

Water was pouring across the yard, already inches deep.

“Why, that’s the brightest rainbow I’ve ever seen,” exclaimed Marion, suddenly, then, as abruptly as if a switch had been thrown, the rainbow was gone.

There was a voice.

“Covenant – cancelled.”



Friday Fictioneers – The Storm

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

FF - The Storm 180418

PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

The storm

Sunrise gave the distant hills sharp outlines.

Gaffer Lawrence shook his head.

“Gonna rain buckets,” he said.

The heaven was lacquered blue at noon. The pigs lay still in their pen, panting. The farmer tasted the air, whistled up his dogs and brought his stock under cover.

The horizon steamed. Clouds came out of nowhere. The light faded and the darkness was stifling. Sounds were distorted, submarine. The sweet smell of the cattle cloyed.

Then, as flames of pink lightning flickered on the hills, the first heavy drops fell.

By midnight, the bridge down the valley had been swept away.