Very Short Stories, Week 21

This past week has been tougher day by day. I feel stuck. I feel completely different. And the worst part? I have no idea how to change it.

I’m pushing through trying to stick to some routine and tackle things around the house, but I feel hollow about it all. My hope was writing more types of prompts would help, but it isn’t working so far.

Great segwey, eh? You’ll be seeing some #vsspoem posts once a week from now on and same with #BraveWrite. If I stick with it, who knows what might happen, right?

Anyways, here are my very short stories for the week without any further rambling.

 

September 3rd

Her #mysteries were caged in barbed wire. They surrounded her, welcomed her darkness. Whispered horrors and sordid images filled her every waking breath. And yet the Evil she held remained a secret. She wiped sweat from her brow and walked away from the newly dug hole.

 

September 4th

She chased the glowing #horizon

Its edge calling to her

She longed to free fall

into the abyss

Sink or swim

in a sea of words

 

Her fingers could craft

poems

short stories

novels

if given reign

 

And so she chased

the glowing #horizon

for a future it might hold

if she caught it

 

September 5th

Words of strange properties leapt from her lips as a soft whisper. Her magic danced in colourful swirls along the rocks she’d gathered. It caressed and curled about the stones like a lover. Before her gaze, they #crystallized, clear and crisp like an autumn day.

 

September 6th

The night put its arms around her, an old and welcome friend. Her radiant smile shone light upon the tides she taunted into play. In the black sky, she gossiped with the stars, twinkling by her side. And as the sun cast golden rays on the horizon, she waved hello to #daybreak.

 

September 7th

The #serendipity of it all, she determined, typing a response to a stranger’s message. And yet… he wasn’t a stranger. Her heart and soul knew he was meant for her like the sun and moon belonged to the sky. Eight years later, she still couldn’t pinpoint how she had known.

 

September 8th

#Comets blazed through the sky and diminished into nothing more than cosmic dust. From the comfort of her room, she chased their wandering trails with her eyes. They must live brilliant lives to be gone so quickly from existence, she mused. If only I could chart myself a course.

 

September 9th

The tree that grew in her backyard served as a reminder. #Souls have branches, roots. They reach, connect, support, and thrive with companionship. She couldn’t keep hers locked in a jar for fear of rejection or failure.

She had to open it. And she did. Her soul had wings now.

Again With The Lies

Sharp little nails I sleep on at night.
Each a regret, a nightmare, a lie.
 
Toss and turn on this prickly bed.
No comfort when doubt lives.
 
I push back, I fail,
Relapse into old patterns.
 
Rebellion has yet to set me free.
Caged by painful repetition.
 
Success is a bird that soars.
Failure the chain buried in the ground.
 
Darkness tugs on tired eyes.
“Maybe tomorrow.”
 
Again with the lies.

Please

See me?
 
On the sidelines of your life?
On the bench, alone?
 
I guess you don’t.
I guess it is too little too late.
 
Don’t you see me?
How hard I’ve tried?
 
I reach out, but touch wall.
I reach out, but hear nothing.
 
Have you been locked in a cage?
Pushed from another’s life?
 
I don’t think so.
I don’t think you ever have.
 
Maybe if it had happened to you
You would see me
Screaming for the keys
And you’d open the door.
 
But you don’t, do you?
 
See me?
 
Please.