Mind webs.

I am not plagued by what plagues my peers.

I am not plagued by what plagued my ancestors.

I am plagued by what plagues ME.

Like Charon’s’ fingers ripping through curtains of darkness, its shallow whispers seek to stifle my voice.

I rise at dawn racing to escape the dark recesses of my mind.

I wish them away… they start to fade, a sense of peace assails my mind.

Like a dot of light, a patch of clarity on a foggy morning, so are the words crooning through my ear piece.

Looking at the computer, I find myself sinking again.


Written for two challenges:

Friday fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click on this link to join in the fun and on this one to read other stories.

and Flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy. Click on the link to join in the fun and on this one to read other stories.

Advertisements

Beautifully ugly

Dress: £50 from Dorothy Perkins

Shoes: £18 from Next

Coat: £50 from River Island

Jewellery: £20 from New look

Perfume: Chanel No 5 (a gift from dad)

Total: £138

She walked through the door all poised and calm. Her name was Twin A. She asked how my day had been and wished me a lovely night. I held her coat as delicately as she had treated my position.

Dress: £50 from House of Frasier

Shoes: £20 from Next

Coat: £60 from M & S

Jewellery: £20 from New look

Perfume: Carolina Herrera (gift from dad)

Total: £150

She walked through the door all poised and calm. Her name was Twin B. She gave me her coat, and walked through to the other guests. I held her coat as impersonally as she treated me. 

It’s as ma said, “we’re all the same, the heart is all that makes us different. It don’t matter what you wear, or where you sleep, with a bit of cash you might find yourself a happy neighbour to professor Higgins.”


Written for Flash fiction for aspiring writers challenge. Hope it makes sense. Click on the link to read other stories and on this link to join in.

Silenced

She gave her consent/ I am not entirely sure about this, could you give me a minute?

Did you at any point get a verbal consent?/ He won’t let me think, he kept shoving the advantages and signature page at me.

Your honour by signing the document, she said yes./ I thought if I signed he would leave me alone and my katie would sort it out later.

tltweek121


Written for Sonya’s Three line tales and Daily prompt Juxtapose.

Photo by Julian Lozano

Ebbing and flowing

7182545c9ba4e55961eddd91e59e5da7

Colour me black, colour me white; colour me yellow with sprinkles of pink.

Colour me bright with an array of sparkles

It taints not the grey within, Eeyore has nothing on me,  I smile, bright as the sun.

tltweek119

Take two: 

Beyond the mount the gods arise to the sound of Cilo and her sisters,

Soaking in nectar, sipping ambrosia, they summon the stars to adorn their paths, like light through a prism they shine in glory.

Olympus, I long for thee, let me feast on thy beauty alone.

Take three:

We shall build a tower up to the gods, we shall adorn the towers brightly, the gods shall smile in delight.

Nay, we shall cover it in ashes, the gods shall bark and rave.

Aye, we shall cover them in both, the gods shall applaud our wisdom, for such is the tide  of life they bid  us live.


Written for Sonya’s three line tales week 119.

Middle picture by Oneisha Lee.

 

 

 

 

Piercing the darkness

They ran fast as they could, the darkness suffocating every array of hope. Her steps became laboured, Molly’s wriggling wearing tiny on her tiny hip. 

They had only tonight or it was goodnight forever. Slowly her legs bowed to gravity, seeking to calm her baby, she sang her favourite lullaby as she embraced the inevitable.

Cosy, cosy, snug as a bunny

my precious Molly, honey suckle

rest on mummy’s bosom

as the night time worries fade away.

Springing upright, Agnes focused on the bathroom light as it pierced the darkness. 

Molly sighed.

No night time worries here.

Agnes relaxed.


Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.

Frozen puddles

Bland cream pastel walls, sterile, with no semblance of human interaction. It looked a lot like a room suited for an interrogation, a mafia led interrogation. A room designed to convey the subtle message of fatality either ways you answered.

“Right, what else do we have here other than the victim?”

“Excluding the mug and table, nothing else.”

“Any finger prints or DNA tissue obtained?”

“No finger prints. Aimee is working on the victim as we speak, but nothing’s turned up.”

“Any ideas on the mug content?”

“Other than remind me of luka’s diaper contents last night, we’re stumped on that as well.”

They both smiled.

“Whatever happened here, that mug seems to be the only evidence of a storm that occurred.”

“Premeditated or random?”

“Definitely premeditated.”

His phone rang.

“Inspector Morris here….. right…. any clue as to the cause of death?”.

“Turns out the victim is an amateur sculpture at some Michigan college …”

“Won’t be far-fetched to assume that’s mud?” pointing to the mug.

“No speculations Jake. What  brought him way out here?”


In response to the writing challenge flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy click on the link to visit the blog. The photograph is from the lovely artycaptures (interesting photo can’t wait to see all the stories it inspires) and the challenge is to write a 100 – 150 words (+/- 25 words) story inspired by it. Do click on the link for other stories.

Curiosity kills the …..

Him: Prepare the meal as I have told you and at midnight sit beneath the rock and eat it. After a fortnight watch for the bountiful harvest.

Them: bow in awe while exiting the tent.

……….

Him: take a white chicken, a piece of white cloth and chalk at high noon to the rock. Write your enemy’s name on the rock cover it the white cloth, kill the chicken and spray its blood on the cloth. By evening your enemy shall be no more.

Me smiling: does that really work?

Him: stares unamused.

Me: just wandering how the rock does it?


Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely CEAyr, the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.

Tandem or sociable?

I like the tandem bike.

Two people in synch, well hopefully in synch enjoying the view around them, taking in the fresh air, exercising their muscles.

People think it slows you down, others expect it should double your speed.

And me?

Well I just say what’s the point of getting to the finish line with a corpse over your shoulder or a zombie in front?

Learn to enjoy the journey, I say to my daughter, but she’s having none of it.

She prefers the sociable bike.

she says side by side is better, each one sees the same thing, each one sees the other. No room for deception, each one pedals. No room for any misconceptions.

Better than one in front and one behind.

I smile for the journey is far and fear makes the heart forget that better a single room with open doors than a palace with guarded courts.

If you can’t trust them out of sight, or pardon their shortcomings perhaps it is safer to cycle alone.


In response to the writing challenge flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy click on the link to visit the blog. The photograph is from the lovely Dorothy (interesting photo can’t wait to see all the stories it inspires) and the challenge is to write a 100 – 150 words (+/- 25 words) story inspired by it. Do click on the link for other stories.

 

It’s not just the thought …..

There are fresh flowers sitting on the table, not really my favourite kinds but they will have to do for now.

Will I ever get them picked from the garden again?

The boxes are stacked to the roofs, I really don’t know where to start. I can’t find the strength to go forward right now. Everything just feels surreal.

The mantle is bare just like my arms.

Should I put the pictures up?

Are ghosts ever a good part of the present?

The flowers are actually lovely, they smell divine but I miss tiny hands handing them to me.


Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely Dale Rogerson, the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.