Very Short Stories, Week 11

Another Monday is upon us! Are you bright eyed and bushy tailed? I’m certainly not! Past week has given me a cold that’s laid me right out, and a bacterial infection in my eye to boot.

However I’m finally starting to feel like myself again despite this lingering cough and eye drops given three times a day. And just in time for Canada Day!

Not sure my husband and I will do the fireworks tonight, but who knows? I do so enjoy how they light up a dark sky. (The thought of them scaring critters and pets does bug me though, and I’m unsure I will let us stock pile them in the future).

Enough of that though! I know you’re here for my #vss365(s) of the week so here they are! Hopefully they meet standards since clogged sinuses have put enough pressure on my brain to render it ineffective.

 

June 25th

#Silver strands peppered his black mane, each a story of its own. Brown eyes pierced others as he stalked the aisles, looking for her. The rattle of a cart drew him like a moth to the flame, and he came up behind her.

A pinch drew her scream, and she turned, “You scared me!”

 

June 26th

The #Mythos surrounding the patterned stones were varied, and far from the truth. Some claimed they were from the stars, left by beings unknown. Others vowed they were remnants of science long since forgotten.

She didn’t care what the truth was, for they were hers.

 

June 27th

Bombs fell from the sky like pebbles thrown into blue waters. Their ripples devastated, destroyed, and left nothing untouched. Orders from the #Regime were cruel and calculated, but they still had many enemies. Some hid in the very walls they hoped protected them.

 

June 28th

This #Epoch would be marked as racist, sexist, and cruel. Leaders of countries would strive for change yet slip backwards in the mires of their ignorant makings. Women lose rights, safety, security. Men fight to be emotional, brave, allies. We all suffer as EQUALS though.

 

June 29th

#Protect me? she scoffed. I don’t need it.

Stunned by her wilfulness, he grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. ‘I wasn’t d-‘

His sentence remained unfinished as she grasped his arm, yanked it off her, and pinned it behind his back.

Don’t touch me, she spat.

 

June 30th

His #psyche bubbled like a witch’s cauldron, brimming over with his joy. Another twig tossed on the fire at his feet, the flickering flames taunted the air with their heat, but the moment was ruined. The gagged whimpers of his victim drowned out the soothing crackles.

 

July 1st

Behind black curtains, a female voice beckoned. The soft lilt eerie in the dusk winds of the carnival, but the stranger pushed through the velvet barrier anyways. Their eyes met in the candlelit tent and his heart raced as she rose.

Would you like to know your #fortune?

 

#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.

 

 

It Consumes (An Ottava rima Poem)

Fire and brimstone in her fury filled gaze

Burning her enemies, forever scarred.

She dances around the ashes and blaze,

A wicked smile bears teeth, her face unmarred.

Death abounds, surrounds, holds her in its maze.

A game she thought to play, leaves her in shards.

For Wrath creates victims, ripping out hearts.

Lives left damaged, long after it departs.