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BraveWrite, Week 4

September 26th

He sits across from his therapist as she checks off #boxes in her mind. She scribbles notes down from his answers and he bites his lip from asking. He’s new to this. His leg bounces, up and down, anxious for answers. Anxious to be told it’s not in his head.

 

September 27th

The wind kisses the leaves with a playful breeze and dances with fading flowers. Insects buzz in swirls around his ears. Rough bark reaches for skin through thick sweaters but he welcomes its affirming touch. He #listens to nature, sat upon its packed dirt.

 

September 28th

She talked to herself through every task. Rambled and raved. No audience required for the #insane mutterings she came across. She told stories in whispers and shouts. She told stories of the sad and mad. It kept her amused. They called her crazy, but she knew where her marbles were.

 

September 29th

She held the leash loosely in her right hand as her dog marched forward, nose to the ground. Their feet and paws crunched on the #crisp leaves felled by Autumn’s breeze. Her eyes were vigilant for any threats to her dog and thankfully her dog listened when needed.

 

September 30th

The #epoch of her life had been the four years in university. She sat in the back, hiding her mind from classmates and professors. She toyed around on her laptop, unable to focus. Anxiety thrummed in her heartbeat, coaxing her into depressive and manic episodes.

 

October 1st

She stands out like a sore thumb covered in scars, tattoos, and piercings. Surrounded by girls in booty shorts and crop tops, she flashes her middle finger at the cookie cutters. She’s #contrarian and bucks the social norm. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

 

October 2nd

She was without an #anchor in the storm. The ropes that tied her to the docks had long since frayed, rubbed repeatedly between boat and wood. She nose dived under a large wave, its waters threatening to fill her. Alone in the harbour, she wondered how long she’d last.

 

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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.

Very Short Stories, Week 16!!!

Hey, guys! I can’t believe it has been FOUR MONTHS since I started doing the very short stories prompts on Twitter. It has kept me writing and challenged me in new ways.

The best thing I like about the #vss365 is it continually challenges my creativity and my ability to show rather than tell. Sometimes, I don’t deliver what I really want, but most of the time I really enjoy them!

My nephew has gone home and so it is time to settle back into a familiar routine that includes working on my manuscript. I’m prepping somemore tools to really help me get it to that polished level.

Anyways, I’ll keep this short. Here are my very short stories for the week!

 

July 30th

Birds of a feather #flock together, she told her daughter and ruffled her hair. You’ll be fine! I promise.

The daughter nodded and grabbed the familiar hand of her mother, worn with age. They walked down the gravel road of their drive way to wait for the school bus.

 

July 31st

The #Queen of Darkness reigned over nightmares and relished the sounds of screams. Pained wails bounced off the remains of her stone castle that night. The cries mingled with the smell of spilt blood to soothe her soul and she dreamed of red drops in the depths of depravity.

 

August 1st

The #cellar doors were smashed bits, surrounding the poorly lit opening. Its stairs descended into the pitch black with no end in sight. The flashlight shook in her hands but she clicked the light on. Cautious steps took her down the steps. The creaking echoed for miles.

 

August 2nd

#Familiar hands clasped hers, warm and soothing. But she didn’t hear his words. She’d vanished into a funeral in her mind’s eye, surrounded by fragrant flowers and the tears of the mourning. The coffin before her was made of oak, strong and sturdy like her father had been in life.

 

August 3rd

It’s a tough lesson when it comes to #sacrifice, the teacher said. His high school students sat there, bored but silent. Their gaze weighed on his shoulders and he breathed deeply. You see, certain jobs have more risks than others. They require a willingness to give and not get.

 

August 4th

Stars shimmered in the night sky like glitter on a black cloth. The pale face of the moon was absent, waiting rebirth the next night. She moved the telescope slowly, hunting for a different celestial body. Aha! She exclaimed as #Jupiter came into focus. Just beautiful!

 

August 5th

The #Empress stood still and silent, an observer of her husband’s power. Her role was nothing more than to enhance his presence.

She loathed him for it.

Her eyes roamed the army til they spotted her soldier. His attire shone in the light. Memories of his touch tempted her again.