Every quiet cloud has a silver lining, so I invite you to check out each post on the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. A site which is used by a community of writers. Please support them as they develope and grow, and become the rain which seeds the earth with stories. Each drop of rain carries the silver light of creativity, so please read and comment. And perhaps a rainbow will develope, with a crock of gold in the form of a novel, or a book of short stories or poems.

Every five years the town hosted a race to the top of the Macgillycuddy’s Reeks, the winner got a purse of silver. The sister’s who lived above the Funky Munky cafe had been planning for this day for the last five years. The last time the town hosted the race, they had lost gold when their chosen victim slipped on wet rock and fell breaking a leg. Today there would be no rain to spoil the race for them, and so the two sister’s had placed their bet on Skeet the blacksmiths son.  Skeet was fast and would cope well with the heat, they had seen him running errands for his mother, and working in his fathers workshop. Just to ensure that everything went to plan however they had baked a special tart, and when Skeet came that morning to buy bread for his mother, they invited him to try their new recipe.

At twelve noon the race got underway, Skeet ran like the wind, no one ran faster, and he was first to reach the top of Carrauntoohil and receive the purse.  The sister’s smiled and felt human again.