Microfiction: The Stream

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Her thoughts were a stream that she dared not wade into. If she dipped her toe in she’d feel a tickle, nothing more. But if she were to immerse herself in its waters it would absorb her as if she were a leaf to be carried away. She would melt into its will, no longer distinct but a part of something primal, something bigger than her own sentience.

What land that stream hailed from she did not know. But she sensed its darkness on the horizon, calling her in fearful whispers.

Her thoughts were a stream that she dared not wade into. It was safer on land, on her own two feet.

(Image courtesy of Pixabay)

 

Written for Pensitivity’s Three Things Challenge #125.

 

 

 

 

Microfiction: The Realness of Things

Sometimes I wonder about the realness of things. Am I real? Are you real? Am I as real as you? Are you as real as me?

I feel the cold of rain as it hits my skin, and hear the whispers of trees as they send shivers my way. And surely this means that I’m a real girl.

But dream rain is just as cold, and dream trees whisper too. In the morning they are nothing but ghosts.

One day I, too, will be a ghost.

Then perhaps I am nothing but a dream.

Holiday #writephoto

tranquil

I just want to relax. They never let me do that. It’s always scare the humans this. Eat the humans that.

I get it. I’m a troll. I have a reputation to uphold. We’ve got a beautiful green space here and we don’t want humans trampling all over it.

I just don’t get why it always has to be me. I’m not the only scary thing around here. Those fairies can be nasty, and a nymph’s regular attitude should bring any unwanted tourism to a grinding halt. Sometimes I just want to look at the reflections of leaves in water…feel the cool of shaded bark against my skin…breathe in the green.

That’s why I’m putting in my leave. I’m taking a holiday. I deserve it. I’m soaking up the green and sleeping in till 10. Some nasty nymph can cover my shifts.

As for humans…the rules are simple.

Trample quietly and you won’t get your legs broke.

 

(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)

Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Prompt: Tranquil

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My supernatural short story Aibhileen’s Curse is now free on Smashwords.

Microfiction: Untrodden #writephoto

snowy-landscape

They ask me why I walk alone in the snow. In the cold where no one else walks. Where the trees are bare and the moon is far.

They see only loneliness in the white.

But I cherish the snow. Those crystals glitter to me. The moon is sprinkled all around me. The trees are clothed in wind and stars.

Only in silence does the world speak. Only in stillness does the world move.

They ask me why I walk alone in the snow.

I ask them why they think I’m alone.

 

(Image courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo)

Written for Sue Vincent’s Writephoto Prompt: Untrodden

 

Microfiction: The Stillness of Your Anger

The stillness of your anger scares me. I’ve had anger before. It’s hot, it boils, it wants to come up through your being and into the world. But your anger has no movement. It has no heat. Its shape is unknown.

This anger is a deep part of your being. You hide it from the world. You hide it inside, where your soul is. The seal may crack one day, and you will enter this world. You will walk among us. I pray that day never comes.

 

Microfiction: Rain Shadows

I wonder if raindrops have shadows. Everything has a shadow. The rain must have a shadow too. I think I’ve seen rain shadows once, in my garden, but now I’m not sure. I look for them every time it rains. Mostly I see only light and water. But sometimes – in the grass, on a wall – I see them. Rain shadows. And I know they’re there.