Very Short Stories, Week 24

I missed the weekend prompts for my posts this week so there a bit short. Hope you don’t mind!

 

September 24th

#Fire licked across the stacked logs, surrounded by placed brick. It grew until it crackled and sparked and its flames reached for the starry night sky. She sat with her husband on folding lawn chairs. No words passed between them as the heat warmed them.

 

September 25th

She wrapped the #sinew around the willow twigs that formed a circle. It required a soft touch and yet force was needed too. She continued until the web was formed, decorated with beads the colour of rainbows. As she kissed her son’s head that night, she hung the dream catcher

 

September 26th

Night #consumes the day and she readies herself. Dressed in black, she lifts herself onto the window sill. Its tracks bite into her palms and she drops when it’s time. The two-storey fall is quick and she lands with a thud, rolling for cover. She draws in a deep breath.

 

September 27th

 

Stars twinkle in distant #universes, lighting skies above alien life. Through telescopes, gazes meet but remain unaware. Life continues its circling dance. She dreams of unknown planets and longs to walk on foreign soil. Her imagination is a playground of planets.

 

September 28th

 

September 29th

 

September 30th

His bare feet were numb on the cold, wet road. The ragged clothes on his body were no shelter from the howling wind. There was no frown on this boy’s face. He wore a stubborn scowl like a shield and pressed forward. It was #inevitable in his mind that he’d find shelter.

Clothing, My Cross To Bear

My clothing mocks me

Every time I put it on.

It whispers awful things

And makes me wish I was gone.

It hangs from my shoulders

Or hugs my flabby hips.

It tells me how fat I am

In harsh and hurtful quips.

My clothing mocks me

With its drab and ugly shapes.

I’m too big for nicer clothes

Always drawing eyes that gape.

Okay, that part might be a lie.

I keep my gaze on the ground

Afraid of their hateful stares

That judge every single pound.

In the end it’s my own sight

I wish to dodge in the mirror.

It rips me apart each time

Feeling me with dread and fear.

I wish to change,

Start down that path

But in my way

Are mocking laughs.

You see, it starts with my clothes

The ones I put on every day.

They judge me harshly

And they’re always in the way.

I wish I was skinny, healthy and free,

But I don’t know if that will ever be me.