BraveWrite, Week 4

September 26th

He sits across from his therapist as she checks off #boxes in her mind. She scribbles notes down from his answers and he bites his lip from asking. He’s new to this. His leg bounces, up and down, anxious for answers. Anxious to be told it’s not in his head.

 

September 27th

The wind kisses the leaves with a playful breeze and dances with fading flowers. Insects buzz in swirls around his ears. Rough bark reaches for skin through thick sweaters but he welcomes its affirming touch. He #listens to nature, sat upon its packed dirt.

 

September 28th

She talked to herself through every task. Rambled and raved. No audience required for the #insane mutterings she came across. She told stories in whispers and shouts. She told stories of the sad and mad. It kept her amused. They called her crazy, but she knew where her marbles were.

 

September 29th

She held the leash loosely in her right hand as her dog marched forward, nose to the ground. Their feet and paws crunched on the #crisp leaves felled by Autumn’s breeze. Her eyes were vigilant for any threats to her dog and thankfully her dog listened when needed.

 

September 30th

The #epoch of her life had been the four years in university. She sat in the back, hiding her mind from classmates and professors. She toyed around on her laptop, unable to focus. Anxiety thrummed in her heartbeat, coaxing her into depressive and manic episodes.

 

October 1st

She stands out like a sore thumb covered in scars, tattoos, and piercings. Surrounded by girls in booty shorts and crop tops, she flashes her middle finger at the cookie cutters. She’s #contrarian and bucks the social norm. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

 

October 2nd

She was without an #anchor in the storm. The ropes that tied her to the docks had long since frayed, rubbed repeatedly between boat and wood. She nose dived under a large wave, its waters threatening to fill her. Alone in the harbour, she wondered how long she’d last.

 

Very Short Stories, Week 22

Good Monday morning! Or at least, I hope it will turn into one if it hasn’t yet.

My dreams were sweet and intoxicating, and kept me in bed longer than I’d like. But here I am with my very short stories.

Here you go!

 

September 10th

The tree lay on its side, but relatively intact. Winds from last night’s storm #uprooted its proud base, leaving it exposed to the elements. She wandered over to it in sun’s brilliant rays and mourned its fate to shrivel and decay.

But the tree didn’t give up.

 

September 11th

#Smoke tumbles off the burning logs, crawling slowly towards the heavens. The fire’s scent hangs in the air and spreads its warmth and fond memories. Leaves rustle underfoot and form a carpet on soon to sleep grass. The taste of Autumn is in the air, beckoning.

 

September 12th

Rain gathered behind the dam’s walls. Its angered waters licked and spilled over its confinement, taunting those in its way. Shouts were scarcely heard over the storm, ordering evacuation.

The police rushed to remove those in the city below, to beat the #floodwaters.

 

September 13th

The teachers blamed the #lunar eclipse but the students only wanted freedom. From rules and regulations. From homework and grades. From the rigors suffocating creativity. They longed to spread their wings and read from forbidden works.

Really, they wanted stimulation.

 

September 14th

I remember doing #somersaults on the ground. The grass wet or dry, but soft against my clumsiness. I remember it turned into flips in the air that ended badly, too. I remember the child in me who made the attempt despite the outcome.

Where did she go?

 

September 15th

His eyes were #amber and sweet like honey. They raked over her naked body, sending shivers across her skin. Tension rose between them in the still silence. The pure sexual energy demanded release.

If she were a lock, his kiss was the key to unleash both their passion.

 

September 16th

Her fingers fluttered like hummingbirds across the keys of the piano. It was the only thing betraying her #euphoric mood. With eyes shut and lips a thin line, no one thought she was anything but serious. The notes that rose and fell were uplifting, demanding. Like her.