descent

Very Short Stories, Week 23

Another weekend has come and gone and I already long for the next one. I find them relaxing in such a new way in the fall. Here’s hoping Autumn will help me blossom.

Anyways, I tried to not to be too repetitive with this week’s set of prompts and I think I pulled it off. Not gonna lie, I feel I have lost the sensory aspect of my writing and I’m trying to tap into it again. Working on my description that way as it were. So here’s hoping that’s noticeable in the future!

 

September 17th

The wolves prowled the ground, tracking the scent until they came across their prey. Low to the ground, they crawled forward in the dense grass. In the quiet evening sun, their paws dashed forward in thunderous waves. Their #carnivorous fangs sank into the fat of the calf.

 

September 18th

His warmth welcomes her, leaves her #infatuated with his presence. His words soothe her, teaching her to love who he is inside.

But their souls?

Those meet in the dark nights, wrapped in need and want for each other. Connecting their broken pieces for one whole being.

 

September 19th

The path into the dark is never lined with light. It’s a #cavernous descent into the bowels of one’s own soul. Eyes adjust slowly to constant night and it’s left to one’s imagination how the trail begun. But it is home now. Its warmth and smell of brimstone there always.

 

September 20th

In the heat of the moment, passion #devours the mind. Thoughts of laundry and chores vanish. And they’re at the edge, the peak, the tiptop of release. They disintegrate into a husk rocked by wave after wave of climax. The body controls the wheel and only lets go after orgasm.

 

September 21st

In the depths of her bones, in its very #marrow, were the answers to her abilities. And she couldn’t let him harvest it. Struggling against the restraints, they frayed and snapped, freeing her. She grabbed the thin shaft of the scalpel and lashed out at the doctors.

 

September 22nd

My #garden lies barren. Its soil hard and unyielding. There are no weeds to pull, no flowers to tend. Instead it weakens further, unnurtured. The sun dries it and the wind kicks at its dust. When the rain comes, I fear it will be too late. Another patch of death.

 

September 23rd

The #Equinox seemed to approach faster this year, leaving her frazzled. She ran her hand through her hair and collected the stones she owned. The polished black of the hematite called to her and she held its rounded edges in her palm. This will do, she thought and began.

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Very Short Stories, Week 13

Good morning! I’m glad I survived another week of impromptu problems.

Friday the 5th, I accidentally triggered a massive clog in a branch line for our laundry and kitchen sinks. Friday the 12th, the problem was actually fixed after about $900 had been spent.

The week saw a great many anxiety attacks as I played phone tag with the plumbers, but now… I’m feeling a lot lighter in terms of mood.

However, my very short stories this week may have been affected by it all. Here’s hoping you manage to enjoy them anyways!

 

July 9th

#Beneath starry skies
Eyes divine the lies
Of an unkind mind.

Inner audience
Applaud a Godliness,
Destructive and callous.

Yet race time’s clock
Like a fired glock.
Dodge Death and decay.

Goals are our souls
Filling the holes
Of mortality’s game.

 

July 10th

The witch pulled back her dark curtains and watched the costumed children run from house to house. Lips curled in a snarl at the sight of green skin and a wart under the pointy, black hat. Holding an abalone shell, she meditated.

‘How I hate #trick or treating.’

 

July 11th

#Fury’s hands tightened around her throat. Fingers dug into soft flesh, yielding, and the faint pulse vibrated through its arm. Its black eyes watched tears well in her dying gaze, unempathetic.

Her last breath was a mumbled sorry, guilty.

Her last sight, Hellish Fire.

 

July 12th

The #tunnel curled, spiraling downwards inside the Earth, and they followed its steep descent. Footsteps echoed louder than the hushed whispers of the ragged group. Their lights caused the coloured quartz to glow, a stunning rainbow that faded in the depths of the rock.

 

July 13th

‘There’s #precious little time in the day,’ she whispered into his ear and roused him.

‘What’d you say?’

‘I said get up!’ she said markedly louder against his face, ‘We have dinner plans with my parents, remember?’

Finally sitting, he muttered, ‘But it’s nap time…’

 

July 14th

The sun’s rays shone upon the #boy’s neck, burning skin slow as a snail. Sweat beaded, fell, and formed again; the taste of salt strong on his tongue. Calloused feet carried his bony body forward down the asphalt road. Its stinging heat unfelt by worn soles.

 

July 15th

A #torrent of rain ripped through the roof. She woke to its cold water pounding down on her and soaking the confines of her room. Frantic, she rushed about, collecting memories in the form of photos and figurines.

She abandoned them when the flooding reached her knees.