Hold, Hold, Let Go

Holding a knife’s edge
it draws crimson droplets
that swiftly form a sea of red
It puddles beneath the hand
 
and still the grip tightens
Anger, Guilt, Passion, Hatred
Reasons to never let go
 
When memory fails
bitterness remains in its wake
 
The knife cuts only you though.
 
Or its dropped
and Relief is felt in a soft wave
 
washing over you
healing you from the reason
you couldn’t let go
 
The weight lifts and floats away
the chains unlocked
and you can soar higher now
as long as memory remains away
 
Pride and power come
from letting go
an invisible crown you wear
Succeeding, finally, at years’ long goal
But maybe memory still holds it.

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.

Very Short Stories, Week 18

I lost my dog, Jasper, last night. Cancer took him from us in the blink of an eye.  We spoiled him as best we could in his last days.

I don’t have words right now, and I’m sorry my vss365s are a day late… I hope they are relatable reads despite the sadness in them.

 

August 13th

He taught us about #renegades, Vivian whispered to Damian in the back of the army transport. I didn’t understand why since they were rebellious, traitorous, you know? But I get it now.

You do? He asked, his nose wrinkled in confusion.

They always died, she replied.

 

August 14th

#Stubborn

is a word

I wear like a cloak.

Shields my Dreams

from the

Naysayers

and my heart

from the

Breakers.

If I’m Stubborn

as they say

I’ll stay

on

track

Push past the

Mountains

in my way

to succeed.

Stubborn

is a word

I embrace like a

sister.

 

August 15th

#Explosions of gunfire sounded in the distance, echoing off the buildings and nearby woods. Vivian paused for a moment, her eyes wide with worry, but she chased after her sister. They’ll be okay, she chanted in her mind. I have to believe that.

 

August 16th

Her pain was a #symphony played on ripped muscles and broken bones. Her sopranos whimpered and her altos moaned, whilst the male parts sang lists of what to do. She didn’t care for any of it, unwelcome in her body.

She greeted the sedation like a long lost lover. Grateful.

 

August 17th

Damian could only #imagine what Vivian was going through. Needles, scalpels, and a windowless room flooded his mind. His fists clenched, he dropped into a push-up. Raising time and again off bruised and bloody knuckles, a plan formed in his mind. I’ll find you, Vivian, he decided

 

August 18th

My #favourite memory is walking into the pet store and seeing his face. His eyes , one blue and one brown, staring at me as his tail wagged a mile a minute. I knew in that moment he would be my best friend. The least I can do is be by his side in the end.

 

August 19th

Happy memories still #linger though his struggling breaths draw her back to the present. She pets his soft fur, whispering love and sorries into his floppy ears. Pain stabs at her heart like a thousand needles. Tears run freely down her cheeks. But she’ll stand watch over him.

Fire’s Future

All flames burn down to ashes,
Left unattended, abandoned.
Much like gardens left to weeds,
And sparse rain falls.
 
Looking at my fire,
It weakens, only to grow again.
 
The wood I carry,
My dreams, my hopes, my desires,
But I carry my failures,
And my shortcomings, too.
If I burn only for a future,
What point was the past?
 
Learn from the letdowns,
And burn brighter for it.
 
The phoenix I hold inside,
Might die with the cruel waves of time.
It has come close before,
But still, I stroke it’s soft feathers,
And step forward into the night.
I will make my own sunshine,
My own fair weather days.
 
Until then, I prod the wood on fire,
And add fuel to its crimson flames.

Tangy Lemonade

Warmth tingled through her skin,

Kissing porcelain with fiery lips.

The risk of burning was worth it.

Lemonade forced a pucker within sips.

 

Wind swirled, teasing the trees,

And Branches danced with the rays of light.

The spread towel soft against bare back,

She wished to keep at bay the night.

 

Stilled as stone, she lay exposed.

No clouds fluttered across the skies.

Birds sang a reckless tune,

And she let go the softest of sighs.

The Nymph With A Siren’s Song

Moonlight dances on stilled waters

gracefully covering mossy shores.

Trees watch in stoic silence,

Like Statues guarding Nature’s Secrets.

Footsteps break the calming night,

Approaching the clear lake in awe.

In ethereal beauty, she stands barefoot,

A nymph whose wings glitter brighter than stars.

Her emerald eyes shimmer with promise

A siren’s voice sounds in the distance.

Light as air, she moves upon the water,

Finding her place in the night’s music.

Patterns form on the surface around her,

Chaotic and Beautiful under the Moon’s gaze.

Wings flutter in softened shadows

Lifting the nymph higher just to free fall.

The space is filled by her glowing prescence

Though she vanishes amongst the trees

Like an unformed thought is swallowed by the mind.

Removed from sight, the fireflies fade away,

A closing curtain on something unseen

And yet I know it was more than a dream.