Kreative Kue — 19

Kreative Kue 18, issued on this site last week, asked for submissions based on a photograph depicting an old shepherd’s hut on the edge of a field.

Two stories resulted.

Sacha Black, who blogs at offered this tale of a childhood dare:

Narnia’s Shed By Sacha Black

“I’m not going in there Tom,” I said shoving my hands in my pocket and kicking at the grass.


“I’m not chicken. You go in if you’re so brave.”

“That wasn’t the dare. I’ve done mine. Tell him, Chris.”

Chris nodded, and gave me a hard shove towards the shed.

“I hate you both.”

A heavy well of dread formed in my stomach, twisting and furling knots. I took a couple of steps towards the shed and looked back at the boys.

“What if I never come back, like those other kids?”

“It’s not Narnia, moron. It’s just a bloody shed. Get a move on. Chicken, CHICKEN. Chiiiiicken.” Tom rammed his hands under his armpits and flapped around making chicken sounds. Chris sniggered and my cheeks burned.

“You’re a basterd. You both are.”

I stormed toward the shed leaving them behind me giggling. I won’t be shown up. Besides they were only rumours. The three kids that disappeared probably just ran away from home.

I touched the shed door and pulled the lock back. A rush of cold air shot through the gap sending a tingle down my spine. I paused. What if I really didn’t come back? I looked back at the boys. Chris had joined in the chicken dance. I closed my eyes and puffed my chest out yanking the door open.

A rush of freezing air blew around me and sucked at my body. It pulled harder. My hands struggled to hold on to the handle. The wind got stronger. Colder. Both legs were sucked in. My waist then torso. I yelped as my fingertips fell one after another. My hand burned trying to hold on.


Both boys froze, colour draining from their faces. Chris moved first. Then Tom. Feet pounding on the grass. Another finger slipped. And another.

“I can’t hold on. Hurry.”

One finger and a thumb were left grasping the wooden door. Chris stretched his arm, reaching, red faced and puffing. Splinters shredded my finger. Chris screamed “hold on.”

My energy drained, he wasn’t going to make it. Tears streaked my cheeks, and warm liquid dribbled down my leg.

“No,” Tom yelled, eyes bulging his hands stretched out.

My last finger slipped. I let go.

My own effort entitled “Albert and Jarvis — a collaborative tale” is here. I am still looking for suggested continuations.

Meanwhile, let’s see what we can do with this image:

Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene or poem, and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at before 6pm on Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you).

Go on. You know you want to. Let your imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.


  1. Pingback: Writing Challenge Entries #5 | Sacha Black
  2. Sacha Black

    NaNo procrastination calls for a Kreative Kue short, although I found this picture hard to think of something, not sure why? anyway, here is it, and posted up tomorrow in my weekly round up here:

    Game Show by Sacha Black

    I stepped down into the box and landed on the roving floor. I felt sick instantly. The floor was covered in a liny pattern designed to disorientate you as were the floor to ceiling mirrors that endlessly reflected each other. I fell to my knees. Gasping for oxygen.

    “Focus on one spot, Sally, focus on one spot.”

    I closed my eyes and took a slow breath. The sickness abated.

    Wafts of smoke started to seep into the room from the cracks between the mirrors. I could taste the fire licking at the outside of the box. I started to sweat. The clock was ticking. “Three minutes, Sally, that’s all you got,” the game show host said with his blinding white smile. The room started to spin; my stomach churned against the movement.

    “I take it back. Let me out now, this isn’t funny,” I shouted into the air.

    No one answered. No one was going to answer. This game wasn’t called ‘One Chance’ for nothing.

    Liked by 1 person

      • Sacha Black

        Ack I wish! I am REALLY struggling with NaNo, I am just by the skin of my teeth on track. But I need to be four days up, I have a break mid month where I can’t write for four days :s. I have a couple bits from your book to cover too will message you later, at work now. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person