Very Short Stories, Week 11

Another Monday is upon us! Are you bright eyed and bushy tailed? I’m certainly not! Past week has given me a cold that’s laid me right out, and a bacterial infection in my eye to boot.

However I’m finally starting to feel like myself again despite this lingering cough and eye drops given three times a day. And just in time for Canada Day!

Not sure my husband and I will do the fireworks tonight, but who knows? I do so enjoy how they light up a dark sky. (The thought of them scaring critters and pets does bug me though, and I’m unsure I will let us stock pile them in the future).

Enough of that though! I know you’re here for my #vss365(s) of the week so here they are! Hopefully they meet standards since clogged sinuses have put enough pressure on my brain to render it ineffective.

 

June 25th

#Silver strands peppered his black mane, each a story of its own. Brown eyes pierced others as he stalked the aisles, looking for her. The rattle of a cart drew him like a moth to the flame, and he came up behind her.

A pinch drew her scream, and she turned, “You scared me!”

 

June 26th

The #Mythos surrounding the patterned stones were varied, and far from the truth. Some claimed they were from the stars, left by beings unknown. Others vowed they were remnants of science long since forgotten.

She didn’t care what the truth was, for they were hers.

 

June 27th

Bombs fell from the sky like pebbles thrown into blue waters. Their ripples devastated, destroyed, and left nothing untouched. Orders from the #Regime were cruel and calculated, but they still had many enemies. Some hid in the very walls they hoped protected them.

 

June 28th

This #Epoch would be marked as racist, sexist, and cruel. Leaders of countries would strive for change yet slip backwards in the mires of their ignorant makings. Women lose rights, safety, security. Men fight to be emotional, brave, allies. We all suffer as EQUALS though.

 

June 29th

#Protect me? she scoffed. I don’t need it.

Stunned by her wilfulness, he grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. ‘I wasn’t d-‘

His sentence remained unfinished as she grasped his arm, yanked it off her, and pinned it behind his back.

Don’t touch me, she spat.

 

June 30th

His #psyche bubbled like a witch’s cauldron, brimming over with his joy. Another twig tossed on the fire at his feet, the flickering flames taunted the air with their heat, but the moment was ruined. The gagged whimpers of his victim drowned out the soothing crackles.

 

July 1st

Behind black curtains, a female voice beckoned. The soft lilt eerie in the dusk winds of the carnival, but the stranger pushed through the velvet barrier anyways. Their eyes met in the candlelit tent and his heart raced as she rose.

Would you like to know your #fortune?

 

Very Short Stories, Week 10!

Late in the day, but my stories are here!

I’m sorry for the lack of blog posts on my part. I’m sorry for not reading others’ posts and commenting, too.

Time has run away from me, and I’m fighting to get it back under hand. Excuses have been its friend, leading me astray. I hope to turn a new leaf in the days to come (this time it should be a true promise).

I hope you enjoy my tales of the week and the prompts. Also, if you have tips on how to get back on track with a routine, I’m all ears!

 

June 18th

Galaxies away, a green marble similar to Earth spun around a star. Its waters hid beneath the ground, touched by colourful roots. Flowers and trees stretched in the light, and glowed like fireflies. They thrived. They made memories and guarded their #sentient home.

 

June 19th

Her feet stumbled across the cobblestone roads beneath dim street lights. A distant church bell chimed once in the night though she scarcely heard it. The lights flickered off in the #bistro she passed, and she banged on the windows. Bloody hand prints marred the glass.

 

June 20th

His #Embrace was to be held
By Love alone
To feel safe, secure
To feel passion’s touch.

His Embrace was the other half
Of a broken Heart
And it enveloped
But gave space
Like a practiced lover.

His Embrace was the truth
In its scolding form
And it was our life
Bound.

 

June 21st

Heat licked her brow and sweat formed, dripping down her face. The forge burned furiously in mid-July, warming her #iron to a glorious yellow. Tongs in hand, she wiped her face on her slick arm and pulled her piece from the heat.

Pressed to her anvil, she hammered away.

 

June 22nd

#Scars covered her body, caused by various things. Bug bites itched, cats and dogs that bit and scratched, burns, surgery.

Her fingers drifted across a faint yet raised area.

A scissors’ blade had left three lines, wielded by her own hand. But that was behind her.

 

June 23rd

The tempo pounded off the walls and set the #mood to dance. Bodies converged on the floor, writhing to an indistinct melody. Heels lay abandoned at the tables, bare feet emerged.

The music hit a fever pitch, strobe lights flashed viciously, and the bodies hit the floor.

 

June 24th

The #cosmic elements had aligned
in the lens of her telescope.
Black lace covered pale skin
A white candle in her hand.
Flames danced on the wick
under a scarlet sky.
Her feet padded the grass
and her spell teased the air.

Magick rushed to her touch
Willful and Eager.

Very Short Stories, Week 9

Let me start of by apologizing for what I am sure are some of the worst very short stories I’ve ever written. My brother’s wedding was this past Saturday, the 15th, and I spent most of the week leading up to it at my mom’s getting some things together.

Feeling rushed, I’m sure these are not my best works. (I also wrote the last three today, because time did not work for me this weekend.)

On another note, I did managed to edit a chapter a day since I needed to do something for me. Plus, my brother and his wife seem to think my book (and hopeful livelihood) are much less important than their wedding was, but were not really around to help either. Bit of a double standard when your family is fixing your mistakes and last minute forgetfulness, too. They also thought since they didn’t directly request my help, it shouldn’t matter to them what I could be doing instead. Sibling love, right?

Anyways, I apologize for the rant and bitching. Here are my very short stories!

 

June 11th

His world was painted in colours, not the dreary greys of others. They suffered their days, filled by pain, yet he danced away, unscathed. Had he listened a second He’d have heard their desires Greys would have stomped out His colours. But he had no time No #empathy.

 

June 12th 

Bindings held down her breasts beneath a jersey cloth t-shirt. Her hair kept short, and hopefully masculine. A deep breath left her, and she entered the ring. She squared off to her opponent, a thick man covered in muscle. The first punch was his. Her #ruse was working.

 

June 13th

#Midnight blue waters swept her further from shore at the moon’s bidding. Ivory skin disappeared from sight despite its luminescence, but no one was searching for her. The stars kept her company with their whispered secrets and hushed giggles. Her new home beckoned.

 

June 14th

Lightning cracked the sky
Its #bolts forking
In quick
Bursts

Illuminating a pure darkness
And those within
Mere seconds
Passed

Rain dripped from ruptures
In menacing clouds
The plants
Reached

Earth scorched by heat
From the Heavens
The sound
Deafening

 

June 15th

In the late writer’s office sat a typewriter, and papers surrounded it. The pages once covered in words, had faded lettering from unread sentences. Untouched for decades, the room had become a #vintage ode to the world of writing. The lack of electronic hum was calming.

 

June 16th

The yellow cedar wood had been debarked, barren of all branches and leaves. Naked, it stood vulnerable, unidentifiable.

Sharpened rocks, seashells, and beaver’s teeth lay out on a leather mat, ready for the carver. With one in hand, he set to work on the clan’s #totem.

 

June 17th

#Fog crawled over the land, in slow yet sprawling steps. Solid white, it hid the world, and itself from sight. It crept in through open windows, and woke those inside to a white blanket of blindness. Silence reigned for hours before the screams first began. A subtle chaos.

Very Short Stories, Week 8

Your favourite Monday post is here, and it contains my #vss365 for the week! Seems like I enjoyed darker themes, but they have their place, too, right?

Twitter’s #vss365 has kept me going, and engaged on otherwise horrible days of late. It has kept my anxiety, depression, and etc at bay. I am very thankful for the word prompts that @_Irene_Dreams_ is coming up with, day after day, as a result. Check her out if you want some inspiration on a less than inspiring day!

Anyways, here are my very short stories!

 

June 4th

Sitting in the #lotus pose, she imagined a shield surrounding the green energy of her mind. Like a gardener, she plucked out the colours that belonged to others, and reinforced the wall. One day this will be second nature, she hoped, but first I must control this gift.

 

June 5th

Dressed in black, the figure stood before him, surrounded by fog. He clasped his hands before him in silent prayer, desperate for the #phantasm to evaporate. Eyes shut tight, he was startled by the weight of a hand on his shoulder, and he screamed his fear like a banshee.

 

June 6th

Words unspoken clawed at her throat, desperate to be released. But she knew if said, the divide would be too great, and the fires would burn past remembrance. Instead she played the part of a #craven, and smothered them into her darkest depths. Hopefully it was worth it.

 

June 7th

The #century’s past was one mired in
blood, sweat, broken bones,
and mangled bodies.
War,
Famine,
Pestilence,
and Death
rode forth,
claiming time
and land
with their cruelties.
Those with Faith
remained strong
and rallied.
Fighting for a Dawn
still hiding.

 

June 8th

Pillars of #smoke darkened the sky, and blocked the warmth of the sun. Rubble littered the street with both the dead and the living. Buildings stood on toppled legs, waiting to fall. The eerie silence filled with wails, and commands.

All on an otherwise normal day.

 

June 9th

The greens and browns of the room spoke to a woodland #motif, calming and wholesome. A crib made of maple stood in the corner, and beside it, a changing station. Sat in the nursing chair, she folded clothing on her growing tummy, and hummed lullabies to her future babe.

 

June 10th

#Wings float and flare above the water
Wings dip and dive through the air
Wings lift and laugh with the sunlight

Wings share the colours
Of a forgotten rainbow

Wings twirl and dance before our eyes
Wings magic and muster joy inside
Wings falter and fall from our lives

Punching Bag

Can’t take another punch today

I wish this pain would go away

 

Another kick will lay me low

And put my heart through another go

 

No will to rise up and stand

Rather the Darkness holds my hand

 

I know well its bitter touch

And yet this world’s become too much

 

So as I lay down to sleep

I hope my soul, it will keep

 

For if tomorrow waits my gaze

I’ll welcome its numbing ways.

Very Short Stories, Week 7

Hello! Another week of very short stories is up to read now! I think some of my favourites might just be in this collection, too.

New month means new individual in charge of the word prompts and they have been wonderful thus far. I’m looking forward to seeing the challenges to come and try and push myself further with my writing, too!

 

May 28th

The computer screens flashed on the moment she touched the mouse. Her lips turned upwards in a faint smile, and she clicked the folder where her manuscript hid. A white page covered in black swirls and lines greeted her eyes, and she knew she’d never #regret writing.

 

May 29th

The grass was soft against her hands, dampened by dew. Lips curled into a smile and the chill of the air sent goosebumps along her skin. Entranced by the #Orion, she fell away from the world and the freckled boy who saw the galaxy in her emerald gaze.

 

May 30th

The #patch stood out in the crowd since it covered a woman’s eye and hid a gruesome sight. But she had known it would.

On horseback, she moved through the men and kept her gaze straight ahead. Her face kept cold as stone, she shouted above them, “You follow my lead or you die.”

 

May 31st

Sleep shed itself from her mind and left a #reverie in its wake. Images danced beneath her eyelids, enticing her to remain coddled in bed.  Invincible in a land of her making, she found happiness in ignorance and kept the curtain drawn. Forsake the day for night has come.

 

June 1st

Stones were piled to the sides around the dig and wheelbarrows brought more in a hurry. The sound of metal biting into dirt filled the day while shouts gave further instructions.

This world beneath our feet is #ancient, he spoke to his daughter. And it needs our love.

 

June 2nd

Sweat ran down her face in drips and her heart beat in excruciating bursts. I can do this, she thought, determined to beat the #crucible before her. The gates opened, unleashing her into the labyrinth, and she surged forward. Knife in her grasp, she listened for threats.

 

June 3rd

The #willow tree stood tall in the meadow and wildflowers bowed to it in the breeze. Its branches swayed to nature’s tune whilst birds fluttered underneath its canopy. Tickled by the sun, the rustling of leaves became its laughter, and joy shimmered through the grasses.

Passion’s Pyre

Music pounded above the chatter

the beat louder than the melody

but she swayed to it.

 

Downing her whiskey in a chug

she rose from the table

and danced to the center of the writhing bodies.

 

Surrounded on all sides

she twirled her lithe form

like a lustful seductress.

 

Sex filled the air as she danced.

Warm, liquid, and kinky.

Begging behind the bars of it’s cage.

 

His electric touch summoned her.

The promise of fulfillment

on his velvet lips.

 

Pulled into a dark room

She tasted the sweet liquer

Of his passion.

 

Wrapped about his waist

he pounded at her chains

and she moaned for freedom.

 

Her nails dug into his shoulders

Desperate to hold on

Drawing a groan from him.

 

Sweat beaded on their foreheads

Its scent beneath the musk of need

And in a cry they succumbed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

#Demure

The battle rang with steel clashing against steel,

and the whistles of arrows meant to kill.

Yet there was a lone woman on the field,

surrounded by enemies.

Attired in light leather, she looked demure

even with a long sword clenched in her fists,

raised to her opponents.

 

A roar ripped through her and she charged.

She parried strike after strike

lashing out in studied motions

And sliced the men down in a blood rage.

It held its grip and she looked for another.

Another enemy to lay to waste.
Her sword was coated with gore

But did not dull her blade’s bite.

Glancing at her brothers-in-arms,

She saw their opponents drop.

One

By

One.

Until the shouts of retreat were heard

Filling the field in desperation.

 

They let the men run from them,

Tails tucked between their legs,

And they roared with victory.

 

She held her sword to the sky,

ignoring the blood covering her,

And watched the sun fall

setting aflame the field

In crimson.

 

 

Time is My Enemy

Last week, I mentioned I was really excited to start editing/revising my book again. And I was. Honest.

However, I didn’t touch it. Not even once.

Instead my time was consumed by starting a freelance transcription job and a paper route. I was anxious about the flyers being delivered, and waited until they showed up on both Tuesday and Wednesday. For no real reason.

Wednesday night, I started delivering the flyers and my husband helped me after I had started. Thankfully he did, because there was no way I was getting it done on my own! As I type this, my feet still hurt and I think I did something to a nerve in my right leg ’cause it ‘shivers’ randomly.

Needless to say, I have quit the paper route.

My time needs to be focused on my book more than anything else, and it is tough to do that when I’m stressing out about other things. Plus, the route was something I wanted to do by myself, but the size of it makes that impossible which means I’d always need Andrew’s help. That isn’t fair to him.

The transcription job is a different beast. It is something I choose to do on my own time, but I wanted to see how feasible it is. Now, even with a wonky left ear (lately), I’ve managed to transcribe pretty well, and my metrics (which focus on accuracy, formatting, and commitment) are very good for the time being.

What sucks is how time consuming it is to do a short audio clip. Decent audio quality doesn’t take too long until you factor in the speakers and whether they are formulating clear sentences or not.

Still, everything I’m transcribing seems to be interesting and I’m learning in a way I did not expect. I’ll keep going at it, but…

My husband has made it pretty clear that my time should be spent on my book, and transcribing takes a second place to it. Which was super nice to hear.

Sometimes, I mess up my priorities based on what I think he wants me to be doing. I don’t want to disappoint him, but I do need to put myself and what’s best for me first from time to time.

Anyways, moral of this story is… I WILL be editing my book this week or so help me, I’m gonna lose my freakin’ mind!

Take care of yourselves, everyone!