Young Nightmare

Smoke rose in pillars from the field

Fires blasted the soldiers with heat

Sweat dripped down their brows already

Gunfire was heard in the distance

as were the pained screams of dying men

The smell of copper field the air

before the stench of burning flesh joined it

Time dragged for the victims of battle

Commanding shouts led men to fight

Swords clashed and dirks appeared

hoping to kill before another shot fired

 

The mix of sounds left the young boy horrified

He gagged as he struggled to find his commander

The faces of friend and foe both fierce and unwelcoming

Clutching the dagger to his heart

his feet stuck in the bog

He fell, left to crawl amongst the bodies

and pray not to be trampled

 

His eyes met the fear filled gaze of an enemy warrior

A gunshot echoed above them and he screamed

sinking the black blade into the other man’s heart

His hands shook, leaving it embedded

And he rose

 

The commander found him as the others retreated

Paralyzed, he was lifted onto the steed

He’d never felt so tired

It clung to his limbs like wet clothing,

pulling, pulling, pulling

until he sunk beneath its surface

The panted breaths of the horse were all he heard.

 

BraveWrite, Week 1

Happy rainy Thursday! This was meant to go up yesterday but time got away from me.

This is one of the prompts I have started to do on Twitter and I plan for it to up on Wednesdays. Make it a… Hump Day sort of thing.

Just like the very short stories, the prompt word has the ‘#’ in front of it. Feel free to take those words and write something around them, inspired by them, or etc!

 

Hope you enjoy!

 

September 5th

Her nature was #bellicose in every sense of the word. Small issues became fixed grudges that called for violence in hopes of resolution.

But she tamped down the need for confrontation. You catch flies with honey, not vinegar, she reminded herself and forced a smile.

 

September 6th

His bare feet carried him further from the house he had called home. The cries, shattered dishes, and poorly patched walls were behind him. His tears blurred his vision but the bite of gravel told him to stop.

Sat under the oak tree, his mother’s voice screamed, #skedaddle, again

 

September 7th

She twittered about her cabin, attuned to its energies, and grabbed various vials. With measuring spoons and cups, she poured ingredients into the cast iron cauldron and stirred.

Singing the spell, her #melange bubbled and simmered the rainbow of colors. It was done

 

September 8th

She would serve as the #conduit tonight and the fear it sent through her curled her toes. Shivers ran down her spine and her heart beat furiously inside her chest. She was suffocating within her own skin and helpless against their wishes.

She heard them call her.

 

September 9th

His mind created insults as sharp as blade to slay himself. The words were grenades, blasting him #asunder. The onslaught was endless, the booms echoing in an eternity of repetition. His skin tingled to life as his heart wished to crumble. He continued on in his shell.

 

September 10th

#Prisms were transparent, relaying rainbows across the world. Their presence a blessing, a joy, uplifting to those with one in their life.She was scarred, cracked. She absorbed the dark like a sponge and kept it to herself. Basked in it. No #prism to shine light.