Just letting everyone know that most of my free time will be tied up for the next week or so, so my blog posting will be erratic and reading/replying to comments might be delayed. I still hope to put up some posts whenever I get the chance, but this won’t be every day. Hopefully things will go back to normal soon and I can resume blogging/writing to my heart’s content!
With chocolate eyes and a strawberry smile she was the sweetest confection in the store. He bought her and she was his. He kissed her candied lips daily. He loved getting lost in the richness of her eyes. But eventually something changed. She looked the same but all the sugar was gone. He sighed. He never should have taken her out of her wrapping.
the caterpillar’s slow grace
in every flutter
The darkness embraced him. The light did not. So he became the night.
It’s winter now, but the trees are still wearing their autumn colours. In time they must shed these colours and replace them with the fresh green of spring. Yet they remain in a transient state, their aged leaves not yet ready to move on.
The writer hummed a melancholy tune. She was losing her words, and she didn’t know why. She dreamed in full colour, but every time she woke another word had disappeared. She needed the words. They’re what bound the dreams to paper.
So she went to the place where she knew they slept. The book was old and tattered, but its words were as eager as ever to spring from the page.
She cast her net wide and far. She would catch all the words she could, and this time she wouldn’t let go.
(Written for Tale Weaver #125: of the writerly persuasion 22.06.17)
The void called to him. He’d been afraid of it at first, of its endlessness, its utter blackness. And yet he had never been whole on this earth. He was always searching, searching. Somewhere in this abyss was the last piece of him. He fell into its embrace and became complete.
(Image credit: Axcy @ Deviantart)
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie: Photo Challenge #170
I watch the last shimmers of sunlight as the longest day of the year ends. There is still magic in the air, hot and lively, but it is cooling. As darkness consumes the heat, lights appear in the sky – emerald, fiery rose, and amber
fading like fireflies
in the night
the sweet taste
of a hundred thousand songs
dancing on his lips