This is my bit for last week’s Picture it and Write! photo prompt brought to you by the ladies over at Ermilia Blog. This is a continuation, but from a different view point, of Sweet sweet Isabel, finally got around to it. Cheers.
via Ermilia Blog, click to see more
The wind was whipping her loosely bound hair in a frenzy. The dark blond tendrils framed her pale heart shape face, smudging the path of drying tears. She came here for the seclusion this forgotten little beach offered the adventurous ramblers that happened to stumble upon her solitary beauty. There were only a few people who could remember that this place was blocked off on purpose by prickly foliage. Jacqueline knew why, it was for the best. If her father learned of her excursions here he would be furious. Oh, she was a grown woman of thirty and two but the mere mention of it dug up buried memories of a bloody past wreathed in screams.
The past was the past, so to hell with it. It was the last time she saw her little sister, a slight figure bundled up but only a bobbing fuzzy dot in the distance as they took her away in that tiny blue boat so long ago. Jacqueline was one of the lucky ones, the fortunate ones. Life was hers to hold and command. Even then … Continue reading
Write a post entirely in the present tense.
- The Daily Post
Two thirds of this is factual, just so you know.
It’s not surprising I hadn’t slept last night. My sleeping patterns aren’t healthy, surely, but tell it to behave why don’t you. I drag my drowsy lump of a body up the stairs then to trudge along to my room with a defined yawn stamped wide on my face. It hadn’t been hot out today that I should be compelled to reroute to the bath immediately. I want to crash so badly. Just before I reached the door, I stop in my tracks. My nose twitched. Breath in again. Again, deeply this time. It’s going to rain. The fresh, untamed scent riding on the wind carried a whiff of smoke, but little of that. I’m torn: stay there statue still till the heavens descend in all it’s condensed glory or to just beat it.
Then suddenly … I wasn’t slumped with exhaustion that much anymore. Needle. And I need some thread. Why these odd urges come to me at these odd moments will forever mystify me. There was a small pile of undergarments to be mended. Certainly, they cannot wait any longer. Why me? Why couldn’t there be an urgent secret meeting of elemental magicians that I need to attend somewhere? No such luck. Continue reading
Sometimes there’s a reason for everything
Sometimes there’s no reason at all
But above all else, I beg you to remember
Pick yourself up after every fall
Don’t let despair
Catch you in thrall
- 2013 Devina S.
* A Japanese proverb.
Here’s my bit for this week’s Picture it and Write!
via Ermilia Blog
Drip drip drip.
I felt my eyes slowly open, not that it did any good. Empty blackness engulfed me. I haven’t seen light since I was let out the last time … a good time ago. I was glad all the same, didn’t see that woman again. The dungeon was a classic stone affair with iron in the walls, no windows, and no openings except for the massive door. That made the dripping sounds even more curious. My nose told me nothing other than my filthy state. Oh, but God was it freezing in here.
When I do close my eyes I see her. That woman, so beautiful and tall. It wasn’t long before I saw the cruelty beneath. I remembered when she touched me, I felt the my life being sucked away all the while I saw the fine creases on her face being smoothed out of existence, her body gleaming with health. When they shoved me in this hell hole I’d felt so weak, and so old.
Footsteps. A pause. Then the heavy deadbolt groaned and keys jingled.
I’d thought myself numb of emotion, but my shivering from the cold turned into a violent shuddering punctured with uneven gasps and had everything to do with being scared out of my wits. I curled into myself, anticipating a blow. What will they do to me now? I’ve been beaten once because I dared resisted, and those bruises were still sensitive. Voices in the shadows shouted harsh sounding words in some language unknown to me.
Here I am, with a glaring gap of prompts eyeing me. Here you are, probably unawares of the fact up to the point I gave myself away. Why do I mention this every time? A bit guilty perhaps. But that’s fine. Here’s mine in fifty words!
via Ermilia Blog, please click to see source.
The sun was yawning. Spell broken. The crisp wetness clung to us. A shiver arrowed down my spine. Continue reading
This is for the current photo up for Ermilia Blog’s Picture it and Write! This time I wanted to try out something new; to write a story in fifty words, a challenge I thoroughly enjoyed! I borrowed this format from Vincent Mars, over at Boy with a Hat, who happens to be one of the most impressive writers I’ve had the luck to come across in this great blogosphere. I do recommend you pay him a visit!
via Ermilia Blog
I fetched my ‘conch’ jar, as I often do, to collect the refreshing salty breeze for those humid days. My little secret Continue reading
This is my bit for the Picture it and Write! photo prompt, again I’m late (a few weeks) but I’m here
via Ermilia Blog
My heart was thumping madly in my throat as I was jostled along the angst ridden crowd of humanity and smoke. Shouts and cries permeated the streets like gas, leaving hardly any air to draw into my lungs. My left hand held onto Dani’s, my eldest brother, dirty vest, in the other was an unlit Diet Coke can filled with sulfur and kerosene and a piece of cloth hanging limply from the opening. I dreaded the moment when he would tell me to light it, when he would demand me to.
An explosion went off a hundred feet ahead of us. I shrank back fought against the impulse to drop to the ground in a shivering mess. No matter how many times it happened, I would never get used to this kind of life. I hardly remembered what it was like before the uprising, when I would play with my pretty straw dolls and dressing up to go to the city. That was before daddy was gunned down by the police, before mama became a stranger and before Dani was mad and restless all the time. Before my world came crashing down. I’m too scared to think about what the final after will be like.
via Pinterest, click to see more
- A Plinky Prompt
- Prompted June 25, 2013
- Write a letter to the personality trait you like least, convincing it to shape up or ship out. Be as threatening, theatrical, or thoroughly charming as is necessary to get the job done.
There will be some lightweight swearing, but it is swearing nonetheless so I want to let you know before you read this because people can be offended. I don’t normally use such language but I felt it necessary to get my point across even when it’s a letter to myself.
I know you have a lot to say and can do so much but it’s one thing to say something and a completely different thing about the doing part. We can’t go on like this, girlfriend, so we have to work on this because you are ruining what chances I have out there, to be what I want, or hell, even what I believe I have to be (and there are distinct differences between the two). Yes, I understand when the distractions close in on you it’s a bitch to get away from but if other people can get past temptation why not you? Yeah yeah “easier said …” but shit, nothing worth the while is ever easy.