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 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.

Sugar

Sugar was her addiction
Add in caffeine
and high fats
She’d binge for days

She laughs as she jokes
her stomach’s made of iron
but sugar’s touch was felt

She wished to dine
on veggies
and fruits
Reap the benefits of health

But she couldn’t sustain it
Sugar called again
with a sip, a taste
and she answered

Cancer

I

Hate

Cancer.

Its hand creep and crawl

like warped vines.

Its touch tarnishes and taints

like nails on a chalkboard.

Vile like stomach bile,

Its hold on another one

of those I love.

Is there anything

it won’t take?

Cancer’s game is destruction.

Barbed wire around organs

constricted and stabbed

for working.

Lungs riddled with it.

Every breath a growing burn.

I yearn to ease his pain

and pray peace

finds him in sleep.

Setting Suns

Clouds crawl like vines across the darkening
sky absorbing hues of a setting sun
retreating past a foreign horizon.
A lone woman stands beneath its growing
mass with head tilted back to see its forms.
The wind dances around her legs and soars
towards the majesty of the Lady
in the Moon. She envisions a brighter
world just beyond her senses and soft touch.
Ignoring temptation, she wanders home.

Steal Claws

I’ll fly higher than your chains can reach

Break their steal claws, biting me

Your torturous touch shall fade with time

As will ‘precious’ memories.

This toxic love will lose its power

Its venom removed from my heart
My feathered wings will soar ever higher

Whilst you sink into the muddied ground.

Very Short Stories, Week 11

Another Monday is upon us! Are you bright eyed and bushy tailed? I’m certainly not! Past week has given me a cold that’s laid me right out, and a bacterial infection in my eye to boot.

However I’m finally starting to feel like myself again despite this lingering cough and eye drops given three times a day. And just in time for Canada Day!

Not sure my husband and I will do the fireworks tonight, but who knows? I do so enjoy how they light up a dark sky. (The thought of them scaring critters and pets does bug me though, and I’m unsure I will let us stock pile them in the future).

Enough of that though! I know you’re here for my #vss365(s) of the week so here they are! Hopefully they meet standards since clogged sinuses have put enough pressure on my brain to render it ineffective.

 

June 25th

#Silver strands peppered his black mane, each a story of its own. Brown eyes pierced others as he stalked the aisles, looking for her. The rattle of a cart drew him like a moth to the flame, and he came up behind her.

A pinch drew her scream, and she turned, “You scared me!”

 

June 26th

The #Mythos surrounding the patterned stones were varied, and far from the truth. Some claimed they were from the stars, left by beings unknown. Others vowed they were remnants of science long since forgotten.

She didn’t care what the truth was, for they were hers.

 

June 27th

Bombs fell from the sky like pebbles thrown into blue waters. Their ripples devastated, destroyed, and left nothing untouched. Orders from the #Regime were cruel and calculated, but they still had many enemies. Some hid in the very walls they hoped protected them.

 

June 28th

This #Epoch would be marked as racist, sexist, and cruel. Leaders of countries would strive for change yet slip backwards in the mires of their ignorant makings. Women lose rights, safety, security. Men fight to be emotional, brave, allies. We all suffer as EQUALS though.

 

June 29th

#Protect me? she scoffed. I don’t need it.

Stunned by her wilfulness, he grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. ‘I wasn’t d-‘

His sentence remained unfinished as she grasped his arm, yanked it off her, and pinned it behind his back.

Don’t touch me, she spat.

 

June 30th

His #psyche bubbled like a witch’s cauldron, brimming over with his joy. Another twig tossed on the fire at his feet, the flickering flames taunted the air with their heat, but the moment was ruined. The gagged whimpers of his victim drowned out the soothing crackles.

 

July 1st

Behind black curtains, a female voice beckoned. The soft lilt eerie in the dusk winds of the carnival, but the stranger pushed through the velvet barrier anyways. Their eyes met in the candlelit tent and his heart raced as she rose.

Would you like to know your #fortune?

 

Punching Bag

Can’t take another punch today

I wish this pain would go away

 

Another kick will lay me low

And put my heart through another go

 

No will to rise up and stand

Rather the Darkness holds my hand

 

I know well its bitter touch

And yet this world’s become too much

 

So as I lay down to sleep

I hope my soul, it will keep

 

For if tomorrow waits my gaze

I’ll welcome its numbing ways.

Passion’s Pyre

Music pounded above the chatter

the beat louder than the melody

but she swayed to it.

 

Downing her whiskey in a chug

she rose from the table

and danced to the center of the writhing bodies.

 

Surrounded on all sides

she twirled her lithe form

like a lustful seductress.

 

Sex filled the air as she danced.

Warm, liquid, and kinky.

Begging behind the bars of it’s cage.

 

His electric touch summoned her.

The promise of fulfillment

on his velvet lips.

 

Pulled into a dark room

She tasted the sweet liquer

Of his passion.

 

Wrapped about his waist

he pounded at her chains

and she moaned for freedom.

 

Her nails dug into his shoulders

Desperate to hold on

Drawing a groan from him.

 

Sweat beaded on their foreheads

Its scent beneath the musk of need

And in a cry they succumbed.