Ekphrastic Prose

Flash Fiction Inspired by Art

Lind Marine by Sharon Hind-Smith

An imposing fellow stood outside the wheelhouse of the Shelley Lind, watching me as I approached the gangway, ditty bag in hand. It was my first assignment fresh out of the merchant marine academy.

“You there!” the fellow spoke with a deep gravely voice. Blue eyes flashed in the sunlight reflected off the water.

I stopped at the foot of the gangway. “Yes sir?”

“New hand or just nosy?”

“New hand, sir.” A rush of pride washed over me as I grabbed the handrail. “Sharon Kelly, able seaman reporting.”

“Come on, then.” Blue eyes twinkled. “Name’s Freighter, welcome aboard.”

Copyright©2019 by James W. White

The Hills by Randi McCoy

“Stop!” Becky’s cry ricocheted from one side of the trail to the other while we did a two-mile walk  climbing Mount Wanda. “These damn boots don’t fit!”

I stopped, shifted my pack and grabbed my water bottle. “They’re brand new. It’ll take a while to break ’em in.”

“I don’t care. I can’t walk in these things.” Becky hopped on one foot as she pulled the boot off the other.

“Do you have an extra pair of sox?”

Becky sat on a rock and fumed. “Forget it. I’ll go the rest of the way on my bare fucking feet.”

Copyright©2018 by James White

The Big Sky by Micaela Marsden

“Learjet Niner Three Bravo clear for takeoff,” barked the airport tower.

“Roger.” Pete Canter responded. He gunned the Learjet’s engines. It was foggy, but there were clear skies above two thousand feet.

“In five minutes I’m a free man with twenty million in cash and Mike’s Learjet. Too bad about Mike.”

The fog below him now, Peter headed for a V-shaped cloud that pointed toward Caracas.

A blinking red light interrupted Peter’s jubilation. Two wires stretched from the blinking light through a hole in an overhead panel. An alarm sounded. Cabin pressure plummeted.

Peter gasped. “What the fuck?”

Copyright © 2019 by James White

Pelican Soaring Over The Coast by Samantha McNally

Remember the first time we came here?


Yeah. I know. It was foggy, and cold, but I remember this place.

You mean Kelham Beach, don’t you? The one at the end of the Sky trail.

Wasn’t it here?

No. We’ve never been here before.

Well, smarty pants, do you remember the four horses?

At Kelham Beach, I do.

And when they came galloping out of the fog right in front of us – never saw us – whooping and hollering and kicking up sand and galloped off, the fog swallowing them up like nothing ever happened?

Yes. It was fabulous.

Copyright © 2021 by James White

Sutro Heights, Craig Moline

Where are we? Aren’t we going to Pier 39?

We will. I wanted to take a shortcut.

Some shortcut. We’ve been walking for hours! Hey! Stop it! Get your hands off me.

Awww, c’mon, isn’t this a pretty spot? Just chill. Here. Take a hit.

No! I don’t want any pot. I want to go to Pier 39. You promised.

Ok, but let’s sit down a minute. Sit on my jacket in case of ticks.

Ticks! Are you kidding me? Jesus!

Stop worrying. Look at the pretty view, will ya? Isn’t it gorgeous?

Yeah, I guess so.

Copyright © 2022 by James White

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