Three Line Tales, Week 97

Welcome to Week 97 of Three Line Tales.

three line tales week 97: a blue wooden door with a face
photo by Bogdan Dada via Unsplash

You’ll find full guidelines on the TLT page – here’s the tl;dr:

  • Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt (& give them a title if possible).
  • Link back to this post (& check the link shows up under the weekly post).
  • Tag your post with 3LineTales (so everyone can find you in the Reader).
  • Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
  • If you want your post to be included in the round-up, you have until Sunday evening to publish it.
  • Have fun.

Happy three-lining!

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Leanan Sidhe

100 words about a failing musician who enters into a deal with a faerie muse
photo via Unsplash 

He sprints off. Ignores the groupies. He needs to ponder the implications.

‘Nobody in my dressing room,’ he whispers to his bodyguard.

The number of notes he hit tonight were by far outnumbered by those he missed. His career, his dream is over.

‘Hello darling.’

She’s stunning. But he’s not in the mood.

‘Who let you in?’

‘Don’t blame your man, he isn’t meant to see me.’

She twirls her index finger. Is that magic?

‘You need my help.’

A statement.

He nods.

He’ll come to regret this, no doubt. Tonight, though, he’ll do anything to keep his dream alive.

Elvira’s Request

Elisa finds a quiet spot to sit before she looks at the note again. Her head’s still spinning from those memories she didn’t know she had.

‘Your mother, Queen Eleonora, has disappeared. She will, no doubt, punish me for this, but I believe the other families will try to usurp the throne. You must come back and pose as your mother.’

Elisa almost hears the sender’s voice in her head. Elvira, her mother’s lady-in-waiting. Elisa wonders how she remembers people and places she didn’t know existed fifteen minutes ago.

‘How do I return?’

‘I’m glad you asked,’ says the note.

Elisa Remembers

100 words about a faerie note
photo by RaphaelJeanneret

Read me, it says on the note lying on the pavement. Elisa’s mother would tell her to leave rubbish alone, but it looks clean.

‘Thank you, Elisa, for not ignoring me. You will not regret picking me up.’

There’s something strange about the writing – each word only seems to be there as she looks at it. And how did the note know her name?

This shimmering writing. Elisa remembers the bedtime stories her mother read to her did this. But the mother she remembers now is not the woman she lives with.

Elisa remembers her real mother, the faerie princess.

Pretty Scary

‘So,’ Bee says. ‘You know nothing?’

I nod because I’ve got my mouth full of chips.

‘What kind of saviour are you, Patrick.’

She says it in a way a mother would talk to a child.

‘No idea what you on about. How am I supposed to save your sisters?’

‘If I knew, I wouldn’t need your help, would I?’

Fair point.

‘Sorry.’

‘You’ll be sorrier if you don’t remember your role in this.’

She’s pretty and scary in equal measures. I want to help, but I don’t think I can.

‘Think. Patrick, you’re not who you think you are.’

What a Fool

100 words about summoning a faerie
(c) 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Not knowing what to expect, he made his way into the dark of the forest.

The instant he stepped in, the sun went away; the forest was all dimness and cool. He held his hands out – it seemed important not to run into a tree – and walked on. He specialised in making a fool of himself, but he’d come here to change that. No matter the price.

While he snailed into the trees, he listened. The old, fir-green-eyed woman had said that if he couldn’t hear the bells, he would never find them. He checked his pocket for candle and matchbox. At the first tinkling of bells, he lit the candle to summon a faerie.

***

Show me a picture of a forest, like the one for this week’s MFtS, and I see faeries

Into the Trees

The bassline of A Forest is playing on repeat in his head. The girl is there, though, he’s following her and she doesn’t need rescuing. He can’t quite say the same for himself.

‘This place is giving me the chills, Steph.’

‘They’re only trees, sweetie.’

With a deep green glint in her eyes that mirrors the canopy he has never seen before, she caresses low-hanging leaves like a long-lost lover. She seems taller, her arms branch-like.

The farther she leads him into the forest, the more she veers from the girl he knows.Without her, will he find his way back?

***

Another cracking prompt from Story A Day, this.