demure

#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.

 

 

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Very Short Stories, Week 3

Despite being sick the whole week with a cold that knocked me on my ass, I kept strong with the very short stories. Gave me a reason to crawl out of bed, and shun sleep a little while longer. Hope you enjoy them!

April 30th

Like a flash of lightning, her last breath was gone. She was still as if made of stone, laid on the bed. Only a hint of air shifted her grey hair; the only movement in the silent room.

Death’s cloak enveloped her, hands held in solitude, and they #vanished together.

 

May 1st

The flutist’s fingers were adept upon the keys of her instrument, creating an illusion of springtime. The scent of flowers, lustrous and bright, filled the air, and the audience edged ever forward. A soft note echoed, the #cadence fulfilled, and the band joined in her.

 

May 2nd

#Effervescence was the only word to describe the thunderstorm. Lightning crackled in forked vines across a liquid black sky. The flashes sparkled in the droplets of rain, danced about by the fierce wind. It all hit the ground in large crashes, loud enough to tumble houses.

 

May 3rd

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.

 

May 4th

Waves of navy blue crested in white caps rocked the ship from side to side. The wind screamed against the haul, whipping the men about underneath the rain.
“At least it can’t get any worse!” they said.
Looking past the stern, the captain screamed in fury, “#maelstrom!”

 

May 5th

Gunfire ricocheted off the buildings along with the sound of footsteps and shouted commands. Shaking off the nostalgia of buried memories, she raced towards her brothers at arms. This is no time to #reminisce, she brooded, and showered her enemies with metallic death.

May 6th

The #waif stood alone, hidden in the shadows cast by a noon day sun. A weak smile took form on his thin lips at the sight of the man in a suit. The man’s pocket drooped with the weight of a wallet, and the child would gladly take the burden from him.