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realm

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Because we all love to write and because I’ve really gotten swept up in the challenge of Flash Fiction,  this is an Invitation to use the fantasy image above to create a post on your own blog… poetry, flash fiction, short story,… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (EST) Thursday 29th September and to paste your link directly into the comments section of this post so we can all visit, read and enjoy other’s offerings and explore the sites of other writers.

Please also use the #FridayFantasyPrompt hashtag in your title so your posts can be found via Reader Search, Twitter, and Facebook, if you link to these.

I shall begin with the following:

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He gazed upon the variegated greens and golds of the clearing; ambreen illuminance glimmering in a verdant chorus of winged denizens singing enchantment and trilling ripples of ethereal song.  He listened, beguiled as the laughing brook tumbled under his feet, cascading beneath an ancient footbridge spanning the joyful tumult.

Overhead, lantern-trees infused a radiant glow against the spectral dimness of the forest waiting beyond the clearing.  There in the phantom luminescence, silhouettes darted and hovered, warning him to draw no nearer, but the mournful cries he tracked came from those shadows.  He had to follow…

Into the realm.

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First to Respond with a Marvelous Interpretation of his own is Richard M. Ankers. Thanks Richard for joining in!

Behind the hedge where the hollyhocks bloom, beyond the meadow and over the grassy hill, past the fog that kisses the forest’s skirts, lies the land of the little people. Invisible to the big folk with their tromping boots and loud voices, screeching children and slathering dogs, the little people gather in the shade of fallen acorns, hidden. You might have wandered by their stream and thought it a trickle, might have laughed at their lily pad boats and thought them fallen, crumpled leaves. You won’t have noticed the tiny, stone bridge that spans their world and ours, instead, mistaking it for a fallen log or rock at an acute angle. You won’t even have seen them sheltering under their lantern leaf lights at midnight; they look like fireflies to human eyes. But they’ve seen you, my friends. They’re watching you now with glinting, emerald eyes, waiting for the moment you stray beyond the sounds of their trilling chaffinch and blue tit voices. ‘Why?’ you say. Because it’s Friday night, and it’s time to play.

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Artwork found at HD Wallpapers.  Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the Original Artist.  Thank You.