This past week has been tougher day by day. I feel stuck. I feel completely different. And the worst part? I have no idea how to change it.
I’m pushing through trying to stick to some routine and tackle things around the house, but I feel hollow about it all. My hope was writing more types of prompts would help, but it isn’t working so far.
Great segwey, eh? You’ll be seeing some #vsspoem posts once a week from now on and same with #BraveWrite. If I stick with it, who knows what might happen, right?
Anyways, here are my very short stories for the week without any further rambling.
September 3rd
Her #mysteries were caged in barbed wire. They surrounded her, welcomed her darkness. Whispered horrors and sordid images filled her every waking breath. And yet the Evil she held remained a secret. She wiped sweat from her brow and walked away from the newly dug hole.
September 4th
She chased the glowing #horizon
Its edge calling to her
She longed to free fall
into the abyss
Sink or swim
in a sea of words
Her fingers could craft
poems
short stories
novels
if given reign
And so she chased
the glowing #horizon
for a future it might hold
if she caught it
September 5th
Words of strange properties leapt from her lips as a soft whisper. Her magic danced in colourful swirls along the rocks she’d gathered. It caressed and curled about the stones like a lover. Before her gaze, they #crystallized, clear and crisp like an autumn day.
September 6th
The night put its arms around her, an old and welcome friend. Her radiant smile shone light upon the tides she taunted into play. In the black sky, she gossiped with the stars, twinkling by her side. And as the sun cast golden rays on the horizon, she waved hello to #daybreak.
September 7th
The #serendipity of it all, she determined, typing a response to a stranger’s message. And yet… he wasn’t a stranger. Her heart and soul knew he was meant for her like the sun and moon belonged to the sky. Eight years later, she still couldn’t pinpoint how she had known.
September 8th
#Comets blazed through the sky and diminished into nothing more than cosmic dust. From the comfort of her room, she chased their wandering trails with her eyes. They must live brilliant lives to be gone so quickly from existence, she mused. If only I could chart myself a course.
September 9th
The tree that grew in her backyard served as a reminder. #Souls have branches, roots. They reach, connect, support, and thrive with companionship. She couldn’t keep hers locked in a jar for fear of rejection or failure.
She had to open it. And she did. Her soul had wings now.
Kember's Journey 