This challenge is produced by GirlieOnTheEdge with the following simple rules:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word – FOUNTAIN
Click here to hear the author read his words:
The Candle
In the mud sits a tin mug with, inside it, a candle, flickering weakly.
We stare at it in confusion, in disbelief, because it is the only sign of life in the small clearing where we are scheduled to meet our comrades.
It has not rained for some time now, but the still sodden ground looks smooth and undisturbed.
I signal to the others to spread out and search the immediate surrounds, but I expect them to find nothing.
There is an air of desolation, or more, a sense of death, about this place.
A light drizzle starts to fall, like teardrops from a fountain of misery, and the candle sputters and goes out.
Sound Bite Fiction 
Sent shivers sown my spine. I love the sense of desolation and hopelessness. | agree with Jen, the last sentence is fabulous.
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There are so many different settings for this story. For me, I too felt like I was in the midst of a war zone and these comrades are trying to escape to freedom. As always, great to hear you reading it.
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Bleak, mysterious, supernatural. I pictured a scene from one of my fave comic books as a kid, ‘Weird War Tales.’
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Oh, it seems to be going from bad to worse. Spooky. I don’t think they are going to meet up with their comrades, not in a good way anyway.
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Beautifully delivered Six, ceayr. A thousand possibilities from a single clue and all of them ominous.
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Quite a mystery. What happened, what will happen? Nice one.
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Impressive bare bones setup. Last sentence, beautiful and made all the more powerful for it’s stark simplicity.
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Leaving them and us to wonder what happened to the candle-lighters.
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It sounds like they have recently been taken since the candle is still lit. I wonder what happened to them. Nice description of the drizzle as “teardrops from a fountain of misery”.
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Hemingway-esque, I feel as if I’ve been dropped into the middle of the Spanish Civil War.
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A light drizzle starts to fall, like teardrops from a fountain of misery, and the candle sputters and goes out….this is art. …well done.
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Your words, your images convey such a powerful atmosphere of desolation.
The final sentence is magnificent in its sense of hopelessness.
And all this without ever knowing what actually happened.
Wonderful.
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