BraveWrite, Week 3

September 19th

She fears its gentle hands have found her again. It whispers in her ear all the things she shouldn’t to hear. The truth long gone, her heart long since battered, she welcomes the cold. It hollows her out. Vacant of emotion. It’s too late when she names it. #Depression

 

September 20th

In the state of #jejune, we were all consumed by our fables. We were a unique center whose storms were unlike any other. The Gods aimed for us, small and insignificant though we KNEW different. But then our eyes opened. We wore others’ shoes and heeded our empathy.

 

September 21st

Their trunks, china cabinet, and every nook and cranny served as a #cache for their precious items. The house seemed willing to burst at the seams with their collections. It was a glorified storage unit filled with the sentimental. She worried it would go up in flames

 

September 22nd

The world is full of the #esoteric. It haunts the realms of math and science. It teases everyone. But it belongs to the artists most of all. The ones who draw, paint, compose and write for themselves, hoping some will understand. They bare their hearts for acceptance.

 

September 23rd

Wanna know what I think? she asked all of a sudden.

What? His eyebrows raised above a curious gaze.

I think life is a marinade in which we all #marinate. It’s experiences, people, and choices are all the spices we added, She smiled and nudged him, Don’t you think?

 

September 24th

The clock chimed #twelve in the middle of the night and summoned the witch from her workings. Her feet bounced down the stairs, jostling the book she held in her arms.

Ah, there it is, she said while flipping through the aged pages. Clearing her throat, she began to recite.

 

September 25th

The abyss was #tempting, as always. It called to her in seductive whispers. It threaded its fingers into hers, holding her hand, pulling. Her shoulders drooped in defeat and matched the dark bags under her eyes. The image in the mirror wasn’t her so why continue?

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?