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.

 

Very Short Stories, Week 20

Hey everyone! Happy Labour Day, if you celebrate it!

I was enjoying the four day weekend with my hubby, but he’s fallen ill. That means constant snoring is in the background as he naps. Fingers crossed he gets better soon because it sucks when he feels so shitty!

Personally, things are starting to feel more normal since Jasper passed away. I’m crying less, but the last couple nights, he’s visited in some wonky ass dreams so I don’t know what he’s playing at!

That all means my very short stories aren’t as sad, depressing, or negativity. Some are, dare I say, hopeful.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

 

August 27th

Lies are #tangled webs

That thrive

When the Truth

Dies

Alone and unspoken.

Lies are poison

We drink and spread

Like dinner rolls

Passed Clockwise.

Lies are the half truths

We trust to soothe Pain

That claims

Our minds

And dines on our hopes.

Lies are vicious Weaponry

We wield.

 

August 28th

His strength was a #fragile thing, hid behind stone walls made of pure silence. She longed to shatter them and cherish the words he would whisper. But he was a statue. The odd crack pierced his thick skin and his soul was beautifully broken in those moments of despair.

 

August 29th

The sweet #million tomato plant had grown beyond the garden’s borders. Its vast collection of ripening fruit blocked the zucchini plants and choked the other tomato plants. Roots provided strength to endure the storms that came and went. Yet its own weight toppled its branches.

 

August 30th

#Somewhere out there lies the reason she exists. If only she could separate it from life’s numerous obstacles. Instead, she wanders from problem to problem, fixated on everything, everyone, but her. If only the voices would stop shouting, putting fresh tears in her eyes.

 

August 31st

#Forever, she swore on their wedding day to stand by his side. His screams in bad moments didn’t deter her nor his dark days of depression. Their shared laughs and smiles united them like the knots they tied in matrimony. Together they were strong and she would remind him. Always.

 

September 1st

Street lights remained barren as the #gloaming descended. The asphalt paths were seas of black. Curtains blocked shut windows and multiple locks clicked into place. Any hint of light vanished as the people waited in fearful silence.
The scratching was heard first.

 

September 2nd

#Love is a stitch, a knot

It ties lives together

Loose or tight

Its thread can break

Wear and tear

It can be replaced

With #Love again

Tender touch

And words of care

Can repair

A broken stitch

But take heart

Best not to break

A bond of #Love

Feverish Dreams

My dreams plague me with vivid realities so farfetched and daunting I’ve no choice, but to run. My feet pound against barren dirt, stirring dust into the air. Despite the burning feel of it, I must push on.
 
Glancing behind me, I see a pack of wolves. Scratch that. They’re much bigger than wolves. Much faster, too. Their snarls echo off the cave walls I’ve been placed in by my overactive imagination. I know it’s not real and yet my heart races.
 
Teeth sink into my calf and I fall forward with a scream. The wet, slickness of blood drips down my leg and sends these unknown creatures into a frenzy. Their bites shred my arms to ribbons.
 
Just when I’m about to pass out, I have been transported to the centre of a storm. No shelter in sight. But of course, I say to myself and will my sleeping self to rouse. It’s of no use.
 
The rain shifts from small drops to heavy bullets, or so it feels. My skin tingles and bruises under the assault. Thankfully my limbs are restored and I can run towards the edge of the clouds. The ground is wet and I slip with each step. Mud grabs my shoe off and I keep running, leaving it to the land. I can see the sun shining beyond the black clouds and I yearn for its serenity.
 
It’s too late, though. Hail the size of watermelons falls from the clouds. Lightning forks, stabbing at my tiny presence on the ground. The thunder sounds like laughter amidst the roar of the storm.
 
For the first time in years, I stop running. I stand in the centre of the chaos and let the storm strike me down. It doesn’t take long. Both hail and lightning hit me and it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever felt.
 
I wake with a shout and feel my head, inspect my pillows for blood. Everything’s wet from my sweating heat and my skin’s red. Upon closer inspection, I see white forks winding under my skin, following my veins.
 
Not again, I think and lapse back into darkness.
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Here I Am, Let Be

The Sky falls to meet the Sea
Absence causes the other’s pain
Yet here I am, let be.
 
Both frolick as the free
A sacred rite for fierce rain.
The Sky falls to meet the Sea.
 
Dangerous, I wish to flee
For the Wind is not restrained
Yet here I am, let be.
 
The whipping Sea seems carefree
Despite the storm it calls, arcane.
The Sky falls to meet the Sea.
 
Dark clouds form, preparing debris
Lightning fills the mundane
Yet here I am, let be.
 
It disappears behind my eyes
Banished from my own domain.
The Sky falls to meet the Sea
And here I am, let be.

Ruins Lie Waiting For Us All

She dances in circles

An ivory dress hangs on her

Twirling about her legs

While she swirls.

The cobblestone is cold

Sleek on her bare feet

And she spins again

In the shadows of ruins.

Thunder sounds in the distance

A flash of white light

Illuminates her

Through the cracks.

Freezing in place

She looks to the heavens

A pale hand stretched above her

And the wind surrounds her fiercely.

Closing her eyes

She breaths softly

And waits

Waiting…

Rain falls from the darkness

A drop, a drip, a dribble

It crashes into her palm

And she tightens her hold.

Pulling it to her heart

A smile tugs at her lips

And she leaps toward the sky

Shown through a decimated home

Only to fall back to the earth.

The true dance begins

With the inner storm

She summoned into existence.

It pours

Light flashes

And still a smile remains on her rose coloured lips…