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BraveWrite, Week 2

It’s Hump Day, people! The best and worst day of a work week.

I have felt entirely sapped of my energy and I am hoping I can turn it around today. Fingers crossed! I don’t need to sleep in and waste the day away doing nothing which is what yesterday taught me.

My mom came over and helped sand, clean, and put the first coat of Tremclad on our awful metal railings. They look better already after that. However, being productive didn’t quite get me out of this weird mood slump I’ve been in so here’s hoping today’s the day.

Anyways, I hope you are on your way to a wonderful weekend and may my BraveWrites help you out!

 

September 12th

She stared out the car window and watched the rain streak down it. Her mother talked at her, but she didn’t hear the words. Only emptiness.

But she was #encouraged by their want to help and surprised when they confessed their own visits to a psychiatrist. Maybe there was hope.

 

September 13th

She watches as her mother takes another drag. The cigarette’s blue-tinged smoke shimmers in the light and dissipates.

A silent, slow threat.

And she sheds another tear. Greying skin, ragged coughs, the crimson drops that spell the end. She waits for #cancer to claim her mom.

 

September 14th

Video game consoles litter the house, attached to various TVs. She turns on the xbox 360 and plays Assassin’s Creed. Her character scales rough pick, runs across clay tile, and lives.

She envies his freedom though she is the #gamer.

 

September 15th

Her brother pushed her under the water as part of the game. His hand was like steel on her head and she fought to surface. To suck in oxygen once more.

Panic had set in as time slowed. When he finally released her, she was ravenous for air.

Her #umbrage was now rage.

 

September 16th

The #vibration of the nail file on her toes unnerved her and served as a reminder. She was unwelcome here.

She was no pretty girl who wore make-up, fake nails, or got her hail done. She was a tomboy whose hands were filthy and rough.

But she stayed in the salon.

 

September 17th

She stood with her friends and their boyfriends in line, waiting to have her prom ticket checked. It was clutched in a white-knuckled fist as her anxiety took over. Her companions laughed and gasped as they entered the hall.

She suffocated internally on the #pizzazz.

 

September 18th

Her #alacrity had nothing to do with a fear of failure. It had everything to do with her need to prove them wrong. She was tired of the comparisons that ground her spirit into dust. She was tired of fearing whispers and taunting looks. She’d stand strong.

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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.