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Set or begin your story in a room lit by the flickering flames of the fireplace.

Posted in Fiction on Aug 11, 2023

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✍️ 70 stories

Stiffback Mountain

Submitted to Contest #211

Wyatt was stirred from his doze by the pop of a burning log. The fire was low but still hot and healthy. Odours of pine and smoke mingled in his whiskers. He adjusted his blanket and stretched his good leg, causing his old chair to rock softly. Brutus rolled over on the rug, thumped the ground once with a single heavy wag of his tail and fell back asleep. The other rocking chair was empty. He looked to the pegs by the door, Zeb’s jacket and hat still hung there. On a late autumn night, he wouldn’t have gone as far as the outhouse without the...

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A Worry for Another Day

Submitted to Contest #211

“Brad, everything in me is saying this intel is good. We’ve got…hours to get the word out, mobilize a shitload of C-17s. Someone’s gotta activate the alert system..” A waterfall of the right things to do and the complete impossibility of getting all of it done in time cascaded through my brain and I suddenly felt like I was drowning. I felt the panic begin to strangle me and took a shaky breath to steady my voice. “Even still, there’s just nowhere near enough landing zones or birds- or pilots!- even for all of DC, much less the whole country...

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Eternal Flame

Submitted to Contest #211

The flickering flames in the fireplace were unable to provide the light and warmth I desired. Sitting on the overstuffed and overused sofa with an unopened book to my left and steaming Earl Grey to my right, I stared into the weak fire. Matteo made the best fires, bright enough to read by and hot enough to warm your soul. His fires were perfect. Perfect amount of fuel and air, perfect amount of tending to and nurturing of. Unfortunately, this fire was not one of Matteo's. This fire was dim and cold, impotent and weak. Not only could I not ...

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An Evening at the Fire with Josephs

Submitted to Contest #211

     I looked into the fireplace, mesmerized by the flickering flames. Sting beside me, Professor Adamson swirled his cognac in its snifter, watching the firelight through the cinnamon-colored liquid.      “I suppose we should do something about it,” I ventured, broaching the subject for the umpteenth time this evening.      Adamson started from his reverie. He took a sip from his snifter before replying. “No,” he said for the umpteenth time this evenin...

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Ash Will Come

Submitted to Contest #211

“What do you think it’s like out there?” They ask. I do not glance over at them as I peer through the flickering flame to the room beyond.  The room made of dead things.  I flare brighter in agitation as I take it in, majestic and once towering trees brought down and desecrated to make the floors, walls, and ceilings of the boxes mortals built for themselves. Ripped apart and reconstructed to make objects they filled these boxes with. Strange, forced, unnatural shapes they would lounge in and store things in like tree...

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Sinead's Baptism of Fire.

Submitted to Contest #211

This story reflects the moral code of the Roman Catholic Church in 19th Centry Ireland and of how women were treated by men in that era. Italics represent Gaelic speech, which include a couple of Gaelic swear words. The peat in the large fireplace where a kettle dangled over the flames flickered red and gold. Candlelight flickered on the windowsill and the bone-white wooden table. The mingling light gave the room a warm soft glow. Padraig and Dermot, Sinead's brothers played checkers on a worn board. ‘Likely Da’s filling his belly with...

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The Uncontacted

Submitted to Contest #211

The feeling of the heat from the fire on his face was comforting, the flickering shadows of the flames danced on the walls and ceiling above him. He was comfortable. The room was silent but for the crackle of the flames consuming the logs stacked in a perfect pile inside the fireplace. His glass was almost empty, the ice now melted, he turned and looked towards a grubby bottle of rum on the table next to him. "I should probably drink the rest of this" he thought to himself. He reached across from his rocking chair, grabbed the bottle and pou...

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Tomorrow

Submitted to Contest #211

Rachel climbed up the ladder of her wide bookcase to the topmost shelf and stretched as far as she could to pull out her mother’s sacred book. The leather-bound cover felt warm in her hands despite the cold night, natural and welcoming, as if it had been waiting for her all these years. A chill traveled down Rachel’s spine, and she raised the collar of her robe to cover her neck. She descended the ladder and ran to the sofa beside the fireplace, where Jacob held Lydia in his arms. “Found it.” Rachel knelt at Lydia’s side, placing the book...

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Gramps

Submitted to Contest #211

Nine-year-old Audra Johnson--who had a flair for the dramatic--was wadding up pieces of composition paper as loudly as she could and flinging them into the fire with an audible groan-like sign. Her grandfather, Tom—who couldn’t help but notice this since she had to walk by his chair to reach the fireplace—decided to finally take the bait. “What seems to be the problem? Auddie,” he said over the top of the magazine he was reading. “I have to write a dumb, stupid, jerky story for Mrs. Marsden’s class,” she whined. “So what’s the pro...

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Fires of Shame and Deceit

Submitted to Contest #211

Despite the fire flickering in the gilded hearth, my hands went clammy and cold. I ran them over the soft ruffles of the petticoat over my lap, self-soothing as minutes went by. I stood and paced near the tea table, wishing the kettle contained actual tea and not just hot water. Sharp knocks on the door made me jump. “Yes?” I said in a tight voice. The door burst open and Théo entered, all six-foot-two of him, dressed in dark blue. His eyebrows raised as he flashed me a smile. “So glad to see you healthy again.” He took two strides to...

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One for Sorrow

Submitted to Contest #211

One for sorrowTwo for mirthThree for a deathFour for a birthFive for silverSix for goldSeven for a secret that should never be toldCrackling flames licked at the tinder and branches of the oak tree outside. A single crow peered through the window, illuminated by the firelight. Alice wondered if he was warming himself away from the cool, harsh breeze. A single tear slipped down her cheek, it was one of those days. She turned to the next page of Pride and Prejudice and started reading again. When she reached the bottom of the page, Alice reali...

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Evan Was There

Submitted to Contest #211

The fireplace was the only source of light in the dark living room with a wooden floor and wooden walls. Past the olive green sofa, past the round coffee table, past the mahogany-colored carpet. Eighteen-year-old Blake was sitting in front of the bright, flickering flames, wearing a blanket over his shoulders to keep himself warm from the cold of winter. He stared at the fire’s dance with blank, soulless eyes, his knees tucked close to his chest. His chestnut brown hair had grown long enough to reach his shoulders, and his red turtleneck swe...

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FIREPLACE MYSTERY:THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ANNALEE AND ANNABELLA

Submitted to Contest #211

The fireplace is blazing, the flames are lighting the entire room, a nice time and place to tell you about a mystery that has encompass a town called Glacier Bay. The disappearance of twin sisters Annalee and Annabella has ripped the town apart and fueled rumors that has gone on for years. Glacier Bay, a town filled with the most beautiful mountains, the most beautiful snow-filled forest and the most beautiful town. A dream for all those that live in Glacier Bay. But the beautiful town has a dark past something we don't ever want to talk a...

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It's Never Too Dark

Submitted to Contest #211

The fire dances before her, enriching the air with warmth and light. She sits snuggled in her plush Calvin Klein robe, feet covered in wool socks and tucked on the brown fabric sofa. She holds in her hands a fiction chapter book, one she has read well over 10 times and knows every dialogue of, yet still excites her as much as it did the first time. Her eyes flow through line after line, her mind seamlessly drowning out the sound of the rain pattering heavily outside as visions of a fantasy world swirl around her. Her nose betrays her mind an...

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The Bar

Submitted to Contest #211

 The Bar It was the kind of rain that people ran through to avoid. Hard drops of cold wet that went through street clothes and what is called rainwear. The worst thing about the cold breezy rain was the darkness of night. There is nothing worse, in the normal course of life, that nature gives us then a cold, windy rainy nightÖ unless you were in front of a fireplace looking over at a window at what you do not have to be inÖ then, there are fewer pleasures greater. The sailor sat at a fireplace on a wooden backed bench with his legs st...

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