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.

Very Short Stories, week 6

I’m back again with my very short stories for the week! The past days have been a challenge for me, but at least I’m keeping up with these.

As always, the ‘#’ in front of the word indicates it was the prompt word that day. Feel free to try them yourself and post the end result. They are meant to be the size of a Tweet if you do take up the gauntlet though!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy them!

 

May 21st

On the edge of the world, her hair twirled about thanks to the wind, its words #susurrus in her ear. The meaning was not lost on her, and she stretched her hands out, falling forward. The ground loomed towards her, but her wings unfurled to catch the mischievous air.

 

May 22nd

She sat, clipped in by the ride’s attendant, and waited for the long hike up the steepest of hills. The sound of gears greeted her ears, and the seats lurched forward to the pinnacle. Her heart pounded a vicious beat from the #frisson of it all, and the carts dropped off.

 

May 23rd

#Gossamer curtains were tied back in bows, and lined the harem. Females milled about the room. Their laughter echoed as did their soft whispers. Gossip fueled the hive and its secret desires.

But this was all shattered when guards opened the door for their master.

 

May 24th

Like a toxin, the #vile sensation of failure crept through her veins, and wrapped itself around her heart and mind. Its dark hands touched everything. It eradicated hope, joy, and happiness only to leave sorrow and a sense of bitter emptiness in its wake. Succumb, it said

 

May 25th

The #verdant green house was beautiful in the spring. Flowers carried tender buds, waiting to bloom, and vines climbed freely to new heights. Plants shed winter’s cold blanket to blossom under the sun’s rays.
She breathed in the smell of life deeply and continued misting

 

May 26th

She clasped her hands over her own mouth, desperate to suffocate the screams in her throat. Surrounded by darkness, she waited for her predator to disappear, but the footsteps continued towards her.  She ran with the heavy #breath of wind pushing her past her limits.

 

May 27th

The #Silence was an entity of its own creation, and ripped through the astral plane to emerge onto the physical plane. Garbed in blacks robes like the Grim Reaper, its slow steps made no sound on the crunchy, fallen leaves. Animals fled in panic, their voices stolen.

A Writer’s Prayer

I don’t know what to write.

Ringing fills my ears

And my voice is a faint whisper.

 

Words vanish as I reach for them

Thoughts die in vain

And all I want is to fill this page.

 

Light a candle, say a prayer

Maybe someone out there

Will send me something to say.

 

Sorry for this crappy poem

But this bug has made my body

Its vile home.

 

Robbed of health, I cannot write.

Here’s hoping tomorrow

This will be set right.