Friday, December 30, 2011

Flash Fiction No. 74

#flashfiction

Salt Tears

“Don’t touch me.” She stood on the edge, eyes hard set on the drop below. “I can’t bear it if you touch me.”

He crept closer, nervous of the drop. The ocean clanged below, slamming against the cliff walls, dragging rocks to the depths. The cliff could go at any moment. They both knew that.

“Please, just come back inside and we can talk.”

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

2011

An awful lot has happened this year. I think I preferred 2010. At least that year had some wholeness and happiness to it. So much seems to have gone wrong this year.


A terrible photo of me from this year’s Xmas Eve.

It didn’t start particularly promisingly with my mum getting so ill and us thinking that she’d had a mini stroke and, in all honesty, it hasn’t ended well either. Maybe the curse of the odd year will leave me for the even one. Maybe it will all get a smidgen better than it has been.

I can hope all I want for that When Harry Met Sally New Year’s Eve, but I don’t think it’s going to come so the best I can do is hope for 2012 to be better.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Flash Fiction No. 73

#flashfiction

Small Miracles

The splintered vision stared back at me in the slanted rain. Darkness crackled the too cruel sky as my true form shimmered in the broken glass. The rain should have been snow, but this was to be the bleakest Christmas I had ever known unless a miracle could be coaxed.

Ripples expanded from the lips of my shoes, skittering light in an exquisite dance.

I’d left the note by his bedside. He was sleeping and wouldn’t notice it until he awoke with nobody beside him, the imprint of my body cold and empty. This was only the second time my true self had been called to the fore.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

“…Each Wish Resign'd…”

I don’t know quite what this is or what you will think of it when you read it.

As you know, I’ve been trying to write poetry to get things out but nothing has manifested itself. My writing is just dying in my hands and I’m not sure what to do with it. There’s probably nothing I can do except to wait it out a bit.

However, I have attempted this in some vague hope that it will pull something through that is more than nothingness.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

A Deafening Quiet

It’s nearly Christmas and I don’t feel Christmassy at all. Maybe that’s partly the bleak outlook everyone has right now or maybe it’s the fact that I still can’t have a night out that doesn’t involve breaking down and crying on somebody at some point.

There’s also the other thing that I’m getting quite sick of. Maybe most girls would enjoy it, but I don’t. I never have and round about now it’s just making the things going around my head worse.

Maybe you even already guessed that with my lack of being able to deal with something as innocent as a kiss. I don’t know.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Flash Fiction No. 72

#flashfiction

Autumn Whole

His lips pressed against the bare flesh of her breastbone, her pulse jumping against his skin. Fingertips ran across the line of her jaw, pulling free a sigh as her eyes lit with a smile, curving the corners of her soft mouth. Her gaze sparkled on his.

“Why did you come back for me after all I did?”

Thursday, December 15, 2011

The Truth Hurts Worse…

…Than anything I could bring myself to do to you.

- Fall Out Boy: I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears & None On My Fingers.

Dear heart, stop aching. Dear mind, stop contemplating. I’ve been chopping potatoes to make chips (that’s fries to Americans). My finger hurts from the motion. And my hands are a little unsteady everytime I cut.

Only cutting potatoes. Only thinking of something else.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Hush Little Dove

There's supposed to be some escape in dreaming. I can tell you there's not.

Instead there is your subconscious poking at things that are best left alone. When I can get to sleep, I am sleeping a lot recently. The getting to sleep is hardest; second only to waking and realising everything you’ve dreamt is just that… A dream.

An old picture of me taken by me.

A great writer once wrote:

‘It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that’.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Aftermath

The Divine Hell challenge has come to a sad end. I hope that readers enjoyed all that the writers involved in the challenge had to offer.

If you haven’t read the entries and don’t know who was involved then perhaps you should check out the rather excellent roll calls posted by the lovely David A Ludwig, charity girl Margaret and blog challenge leader ‘Timony Souler.

Friday, December 09, 2011

Divine Hell Fiction: Treachery

#flashfiction

She put down the glass. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her eyes flicked over his face, blue pursuing grey. His expression remained unchanged. The lack of regret chilled her spine with the unerring sensation that she’d gotten something wrong.

Thursday, December 08, 2011

Lost In An Endless Sea

I write poetry when I don’t know what else to turn my thoughts into. It comes out as something beautiful and fair less tainted than me.

But I haven’t been able to write any…

You may have noticed that poetry has been an after effect of all other break ups and bouts of depression. Now there is none. Now I can’t even do that.

I’ve tried. Oh hell, I’ve tried… but it turns to less than dust.

I can’t… express myself.

Divine Hell: Violence

#flashfiction

She steadied herself, breathing through her nose with closed eyes. Eventually her hold on the door jamb relinquished. Her hands shook before her face, spattered in red.

Her wolf form had resisted the change but the beast inside had been uncontrollable.

It was her mother’s fault. If only she hadn’t insisted that Keera come help in the kitchen. Dinner was supposed to be stir fry, but now the lunchtime sauce covered the counters.

Wednesday, December 07, 2011

Divine Hell Fiction: Fraud

#flashfiction

She petted the wolf, smoothing his sleek fur and curling against his warm hide. His breathing resounded against her ear. He sensed her calm as she slowly drifted into sleep.

The tip of his tail flicked.

She didn’t know what he was. It was perfect. She thought he was just a big dog that she could cuddle, but that was so very far from the truth.

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Divine Hell Fiction: Heresy

#flashfiction

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” he murmured, anointing his forehead with the red liquid. It dripped down to his lips and he closed his eyes.

They all told him that it was perfectly natural. This was the right order of things. He ought to enjoy it.

Savour it, even.

Monday, December 05, 2011

Divine Hell Fiction: Limbo

#flashfiction 

Stuck in between life and death was not where she wanted to be. Through the fogged existence she could see her body lying cold on the snowy ground.

One step through the gateway and she’d be home forever…

Sunday, December 04, 2011

Another Fiction Challenge

This is just a quick note about Monday through to Friday posting this week. The lovely @LadyAntimony has challenged us all yet again. This time it’s to do with Dante’s Inferno also known as the Divine Comedy.

Like the Seven Deadly Sins challenge, this one focuses on the circles of hell and will only be 150 words long. To follow the challenge on twitter simply look for the #DivineHell hash tag.

So please remember to follow along on Monday!

Rosehips

When the chips are down, what do you do?

You play FreeCell until all the thoughts go away and you’re left with an empty mess. I keep emptying everything out of my head until I feel distant and hollow.

Sometimes, not knowing exactly who reads this is a burden. I can’t sugar coat or anything… not that I want to sugar coat. I just want to be prepared, I guess, for whatever might be slung at me for an interpretation of my thoughts.

I kissed somebody I shouldn’t have kissed the other night…

Friday, December 02, 2011

Flash Fiction No. 71

#flashfiction

Death Breath

He touched her lips of sapphire blue and remembered them red.

Long nights had been spent in this house. Long nights had dragged them closer in, tucking them under its protective shawl. Wind creaked the old stairway. He glanced up at the steps from where he knelt, seeing nothing but the dark shadow seeping out of the landing.

They’d met here a thousand times before, but he wondered what could have brought her back. The circle outside lay unbroken.

It was unsafe.