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#writephoto Beyond Dreams

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Use the image below to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT)  Wednesday 5th April and link back to this post with a pingback. Please make sure that the pingback works and if not, copy and paste your link into the comments section of this post.

golden pathway across the see at sunset with a bird caught in the light

Don’t forget to use the #writephoto hashtag in your title so your posts can be found.

You can find all last week’s entries in the round-up. Please visit and read the stories and poems and explore the sites of their writers.

I will feature as many entries as I can on the blog during the week, but given the volume of contributions we are getting every week, that will not be all of them! All posts will be included in a round up on Thursday 6th April.

Feel free to use #writephoto logo or include the prompt photo in your post if you wish or you can replace it with one of your own to illustrate your work.

The sunset filled Marcy with hope immediately replacing the despair that washed over her earlier.  It’s warmth flowed through the cold lonely ache that infused her body and had her shaking with what, fear, concern, worry doubt? The sun receding over the horizon usually calmed her.  Today it had failed in its job, it usually whisked her along and she soared like the bird in the distance, carefree.

She’d known this moment would come, had to.  She couldn’t afford to keep her part of this glorious island, growing taxes had made it an impossibility and she’d been forced to put half the island up for sale.  Marcy desperately hoped the man known as Vincent Clairmont wouldn’t turn his half into a grotesque monstrosity.  She’d heard rumours that included a hotel for the rich and famous.

Vincent Clairmont arrived tonight.  The chip on her shoulder over having to part with an inch let alone half of her sanctuary was massive.  She’d already reminded herself she was required to be civil, patient and wait it out before landing on him with hob-nailed boots.

When he arrived, he’d wandered around for awhile until he’d found her home.  As he gazed down upon the solitary figure standing arms outstretched toward a setting sun, he instantly felt the pull, the delight, and freedom from convention he was so used to.

His plans were still liquid, he could change his mind and the direction he expected to take regarding the island.  There was a window of opportunity.  Why this thought flooded him was beyond comprehension.  What madness was this?

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