Happy Wednesday night.  This darn thing kept me up past my bedtime.  I cannot believe I am doing this but you asked, and I am trying to deliver.  This is part three of my little ongoing story.  Somehow Rochelle’s choice of photo from a former FriFic participant, J.Hardy Carroll, has helped push this along. Thank you to you both.  Should you wish to read what others have written, and, why not, add your own, click on my frog below and you’ll swing over to the squares.

©J.Hardy Carroll

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Astrid sprang from the chair as if she’d been stabbed.

Helga gasped and stepped forward but stopped when Astrid held up her hand.

“I’m fine.  I need to get some air.”

“But–”

“Just.  Please.”

Astrid flew out of the castle, not stopping until she reached the family cemetary.

“What shall I do?”

“Take your place,”  a voice whispered behind her.

Astrid whirled to see a ghostly woman, kneeling before a small child.  Astrid as a child.  A long-lost memory, reborn.

“Mother?” her voice trembled.  The woman didn’t look up.  But Astrid knew.  “Why did you leave me?”

“Take your place.”

Well now.  Good Friday afternoon.  A few peeps asked for a sequel (which I very rarely do) from last week’s story and I pondered and thought and thought and pondered and down to the wire, here we are already Friday and I have finally decided to give what was requested.  One would not think Jennifer Pendergast’s photo could possible generate a sequel but there you have it… Choices 🙂  Thanks to our presently-vacationing leader, Rochelle, for doing her due diligence whilst away dipping her toes in the ocean.  Should you wish to dip your toes into this challenge, then by all means, click on the frog below and add your link!

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Astrid stared at the now-exposed throne, fully framed by spikes.  She looked at Helga, then back at the throne.

“Don’t just look at it.  Sit!”

“I don’t know what this means if I do.  What’s expected of me?  I should have the choice.”

“No, you don’t; you are the scion.  It’s your rightful place.”  Helga nudged her forward. “Please, sit.”

Astrid dug in her heels.  “I don’t trust this.  I’ll just be your pawn to do as you will.”

“You’ll be in a position to make important decisions.  Use your power well.”

Astrid thought of all the injustices.

And sat.

Good Thursday morning, my peeps.  A tad “late” for this one but hey… when the muse speaks, one must listen before it disappears into the ether, right?  MarieGail Stratford’s image is surely evoking all sorts of stories.  Most fascinating and I cannot wait to go read.  If you are inspired to write something, please click on my frog below and add the link to your 100-word story.

©MarieGail Stratford

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Helga led a wide-eyed Astrid into a room she had never seen before.

“Come along, child; it is time to put this to rest.”

“Put what to rest?  What is that thing?  It looks like a huge sea urchin!”

“That, my dear, is where you truly belong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It has been discovered you are the last descendant of the line of Heddles.”

“Royalty?”

“A bastard, but yes, you are the last.”

“But….”

“Never mind.  Sit.”

“I’ll be stabbed!”

“Not if you are true of blood.  It will allow you in.”

“But…?”

“Sit!”

She gasped as the spikes opened.