Young Nightmare

Smoke rose in pillars from the field

Fires blasted the soldiers with heat

Sweat dripped down their brows already

Gunfire was heard in the distance

as were the pained screams of dying men

The smell of copper field the air

before the stench of burning flesh joined it

Time dragged for the victims of battle

Commanding shouts led men to fight

Swords clashed and dirks appeared

hoping to kill before another shot fired

 

The mix of sounds left the young boy horrified

He gagged as he struggled to find his commander

The faces of friend and foe both fierce and unwelcoming

Clutching the dagger to his heart

his feet stuck in the bog

He fell, left to crawl amongst the bodies

and pray not to be trampled

 

His eyes met the fear filled gaze of an enemy warrior

A gunshot echoed above them and he screamed

sinking the black blade into the other man’s heart

His hands shook, leaving it embedded

And he rose

 

The commander found him as the others retreated

Paralyzed, he was lifted onto the steed

He’d never felt so tired

It clung to his limbs like wet clothing,

pulling, pulling, pulling

until he sunk beneath its surface

The panted breaths of the horse were all he heard.

 

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.

BraveWrite, Week 3

September 19th

She fears its gentle hands have found her again. It whispers in her ear all the things she shouldn’t to hear. The truth long gone, her heart long since battered, she welcomes the cold. It hollows her out. Vacant of emotion. It’s too late when she names it. #Depression

 

September 20th

In the state of #jejune, we were all consumed by our fables. We were a unique center whose storms were unlike any other. The Gods aimed for us, small and insignificant though we KNEW different. But then our eyes opened. We wore others’ shoes and heeded our empathy.

 

September 21st

Their trunks, china cabinet, and every nook and cranny served as a #cache for their precious items. The house seemed willing to burst at the seams with their collections. It was a glorified storage unit filled with the sentimental. She worried it would go up in flames

 

September 22nd

The world is full of the #esoteric. It haunts the realms of math and science. It teases everyone. But it belongs to the artists most of all. The ones who draw, paint, compose and write for themselves, hoping some will understand. They bare their hearts for acceptance.

 

September 23rd

Wanna know what I think? she asked all of a sudden.

What? His eyebrows raised above a curious gaze.

I think life is a marinade in which we all #marinate. It’s experiences, people, and choices are all the spices we added, She smiled and nudged him, Don’t you think?

 

September 24th

The clock chimed #twelve in the middle of the night and summoned the witch from her workings. Her feet bounced down the stairs, jostling the book she held in her arms.

Ah, there it is, she said while flipping through the aged pages. Clearing her throat, she began to recite.

 

September 25th

The abyss was #tempting, as always. It called to her in seductive whispers. It threaded its fingers into hers, holding her hand, pulling. Her shoulders drooped in defeat and matched the dark bags under her eyes. The image in the mirror wasn’t her so why continue?

Very Short Stories, Week 22

Good Monday morning! Or at least, I hope it will turn into one if it hasn’t yet.

My dreams were sweet and intoxicating, and kept me in bed longer than I’d like. But here I am with my very short stories.

Here you go!

 

September 10th

The tree lay on its side, but relatively intact. Winds from last night’s storm #uprooted its proud base, leaving it exposed to the elements. She wandered over to it in sun’s brilliant rays and mourned its fate to shrivel and decay.

But the tree didn’t give up.

 

September 11th

#Smoke tumbles off the burning logs, crawling slowly towards the heavens. The fire’s scent hangs in the air and spreads its warmth and fond memories. Leaves rustle underfoot and form a carpet on soon to sleep grass. The taste of Autumn is in the air, beckoning.

 

September 12th

Rain gathered behind the dam’s walls. Its angered waters licked and spilled over its confinement, taunting those in its way. Shouts were scarcely heard over the storm, ordering evacuation.

The police rushed to remove those in the city below, to beat the #floodwaters.

 

September 13th

The teachers blamed the #lunar eclipse but the students only wanted freedom. From rules and regulations. From homework and grades. From the rigors suffocating creativity. They longed to spread their wings and read from forbidden works.

Really, they wanted stimulation.

 

September 14th

I remember doing #somersaults on the ground. The grass wet or dry, but soft against my clumsiness. I remember it turned into flips in the air that ended badly, too. I remember the child in me who made the attempt despite the outcome.

Where did she go?

 

September 15th

His eyes were #amber and sweet like honey. They raked over her naked body, sending shivers across her skin. Tension rose between them in the still silence. The pure sexual energy demanded release.

If she were a lock, his kiss was the key to unleash both their passion.

 

September 16th

Her fingers fluttered like hummingbirds across the keys of the piano. It was the only thing betraying her #euphoric mood. With eyes shut and lips a thin line, no one thought she was anything but serious. The notes that rose and fell were uplifting, demanding. Like her.

Fire’s Vengeance

Gas covered the wood
Its smell filthy in the air
And yet it welcomed Fire.
Strike a match, sulfur’s touch,
Floated through the sky.
 
Flames grew, running
Through predetermined paths
Climbing the wooden trellis
Amidst the clematis screams.
 
Its violent touch
Melted all in its path.
Plastic
Metal
And
Memories.
 
Burned away the evil
Hidden in this
Trinket filled home.
 
Smoke blocked windows
Yet the sights were clearer.
 
Fire clambered up the stairs
Followed the smell of alcohol
Like
a
Bloodhound.
 
The drunken shouts
Were masculine
As his victims urged Fire on
Imagining its red tongue
Licking his ankles,
Shredding his face.
 
Suffocating on emptiness
The man met his demise.
House turned to coal with him.
 
Fire’s Embers waited for the words
Before departing.
 
“Good Job.”

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.

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.

Lust

Slithers through the heart strung veins,
Claiming every mortal fiber.
Alight in its wicked reins,
Its urge turning us to fire.
 
Fingers dance on naked flesh.
Bodies writhe, thrust, and plead.
Digging deep, its calls distressed.
Give in and fulfill its burning need.
 
Fall into the blissful state,
Desire brings it bound prey.
Grind, arch into your mate.
Find ecstasy in the risque.
 
Lust, I’m told, it is a sin,
And only the selfish win.

2019: My Year of Change

It is the start of a new year, and I felt I should share some things. Make myself accountable to myself and the eyes of others.

To start with, I shared my book with a few individuals, and I am waiting on one to finish the last twelve chapters before getting her notes. I have received very good feedback, and believe most of it will improve my book. They definitely will add more thrills to the story line, and chances to connect with the characters. *fingers crossed*

I have to say it is great to be writing on here everyday (almost), and working more on my manuscript. Also, picking up books, and actually reading the amount I used to has been great too. I hope to query more literary agents in 2019 while both writing and reading to grow myself and my ‘craft’. Over the past few weeks, I have accumulated a variety of works by different authors to challenge myself in that regard.

January is always an interesting month for me, I find. Not only is it the changing of the year and the beginning of new dawns, but it is also my birth month. I will be turning 27 in eighteen days, and I have struggled with my age for a few years now. Growing baby pressure (from family and myself), a need to move from the house my husband and I have outgrown, and the fact that I feel I am stepping backwards in life make it tough to think “age is just a number.”

However, I am GOING to change that thinking this year. Too often I let the voices of others outweigh my own, and it isn’t fair to me or to them. They don’t get to see who I truly am, and I torture myself to fit their molds. I may be loud, boisterous, and absolutely abnormal, but there is nothing wrong with that or me. I may be crude, overly honest, and share too much about myself (before I get to know you), but that is who I am. I am not going to be ashamed or apologize for it anymore.

This year, I am going to fight for a healthy me, in mind, spirit, and body. I am going to continue pursuing my dreams of being a writer, and make it happen. This is the time to put energy towards projects, and make them a reality! I have no one to blame, but myself if it doesn’t come true, after all.

I know plenty of people are posting this kind of ‘shit’, but it is a way to air out the old and grasp the new we want for ourselves. Rejoice in who you are now, and make the changes you need to to be happy. That is what we owe ourselves and those who spend time with us. Denying our truths not only denies others our true spirits, but an amazing freedom we all have the right to experience in our lives.

So, to be one of those people, here is the sum of my resolutions for 2019:

  1. Eat better and exercise to become a happier, less negativity person
  2. Read more (outside the box), and write more (outside the box)
  3. Keep trying to get representation for my manuscript (also look into self publishing)
  4. Keep active on my blog, and learn from those on here
  5. Craft more too!

I know resolutions can be cheesy, and many die before the end of January, but this year is gonna be my bitch! (To put it bluntly). There’s a fire in me, and I am fanning the flames, and keeping it burning!

I hope this year is everything you want/need it to be! Remember, treat yourself and others kindly!

Just write everyday of your life. Read intensely. Then see what happens. Most of my friends who are put on that diet have very pleasant careers. ~ Ray Bradbury

 

P.S. I am going to be listening to High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco on my rougher days to keep myself inspired. Any songs you think would benefit me on low energy, depressing, or just tragic days, share them! I will also takes motivating/inspire/truthful quotes, too!