1a : an act or instance of passing through the air by the use of wings
b : the ability to fly
2a : a passing through the air or through space outside the earth’s atmosphere
b : the distance covered in such a flightc : swift movement
3a : a trip made by or in an airplane or spacecraft
Follow the link to Trifecta to read more prompt responses or to submit your own!
This is a continuation of story, you can see the last one here. Feedback is welcome – not to mention, opinions on whether you want to find out what’s next, or, please, for the love of all that is holy, Lexy, please move on from this trite and blah storyline, it bores me.
The picture below is… well… nothing like I’d really imagine in an old english house, but it is so cool and dark and just the right kind of ominous. Even better, it’s probably the kind of staircase 99% of people walk past without seeing, but this guy saw the potential in it. It’s a photomanipulation by artist Jakub Kubica from Poland. Check him out on DeviantART, or his blog, there are some really great photographs, altered and unaltered. Poland is officially on my ‘places to visit’ list – there are some very cool looking buildings and bridges there, though for now I’ll settle for seeing them through the lens of Jakub Kubica.
Rachel jerked her hand back from the smouldering wood, surprise breaking through the remembered terror of the dream and dousing the fire. Chelsea’s eyes were wide and frightened, pressed against the wall.
“I-“ an icy spray of water hit her square in the face. The tousle-haired boy playing fireman proceeded to douse her chest and arm in the attempt to put out the banister.
Chelsea choked back a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. “You can probably stop now, Reggie.”
Rachel glared in silence at her attacker, trying hard to keep in mind that this other cousin was about 10, and therefore an inappropriate audience for the swearing she wanted to do. Some of it must have come across in her eye, however, because he snatched a towel to hold out, half peace offering, half barrier against her wrath. The showerhead vanished with a guilty clatter.
“So… how was your flight?” The scrawny boy peered at her, sparrow-like, shifting his feet as though prepared for flight.
Rachel shifted her weight with a squelch of carpeting, and carefully pushed some damp hair out of her face. Her lips twitched as she struggled against the laughter that bubbled forth. She dabbed her face with the towel, and replied, “It was good. I didn’t expect England to be so wet, though.”
The answering grin on her cousin’s face was cut off abruptly as he looked down the staircase.
Chelsea brushed past her.
“Caleb!” she squealed, throwing her arms around the neck of the gorgeous newcomer. His golden brown hair fell across a California tanned face with twinkling blue eyes and an easy grin. His smile grew broader as their eyes met over Chelsea’s head.
“You must be Chelsea’s cousin from over the pond? I hope you didn’t swim all that way.”
Rachel smiled in response, tamping down the swell of irrational terror. Jet lag must be kicking in for those beautiful eyes to have seemed so very cold for a moment, leftovers from the dream