This poem was written for the prompt, seashells, for StorySaturday on Twitter who gives a new prompt each week.
This poem was written for the prompt, seashells, for StorySaturday on Twitter who gives a new prompt each week.
She watches as the sun slowly lowered in the purple-hued sky. Another day is done, and she is alone.
Not really by choice. Not directly, anyway.
She blames the booze. She also blames her mother who introduced it to her before she was even in high school. And because of them both, she never saw graduation. Just endless days and months in rehab centers.
All for what?
To end up alone and penniless?
Today she buried her mother. Rather, a woman who gave birth to her. She never really cared for her. Not as much as she cared for those colored bottles that forever littered their home.
Mother died a drunk. That is what she’ll always be known for. Not as a woman who tried to raise a daughter by herself. Not as a woman who nursed sick and premature babies back to health. And certainly not as a woman who became the town’s first female mayor.
No, her life has and will always be linked to the bottle.
For years, she defied her mother. She never wanted to end up like her.
She stood over the wooden casket, deep in the hallowed earth, and allowed the tears to flow. Not for her mother. She was happy that the woman, the thorn in her side, was gone. No, she cried for herself. For her unborn child.
What kind of future will her baby have if her or his mother was a drunk?
Her eyes turn up to the darkening sky. Stars glittering among the dark purple clouds. A soft breeze sweeps over her like a whisper. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head to one side to listen to this whisper as if it has some great secret to share.
With her eyes still closed, she smiles.
She still has something that her mother no longer has…
Another chance of a new beginning.
Just had to do this one! This prompt is taken from Liam J Cross Writing and Editing:
Time to take out the trash.
You sigh as you walk down your driveway. You sigh all the way to the trash can. But when you lift the lid, your sigh dissipates, and you scream.
The lid fell to the cemented ground with a loud *CLANG!* as the sound seemingly echoes throughout the subdivision. You knew you’d opened your mouth to scream, but only air rose from it.
Blinking hard and furious, you peer down once more…
…to see the wide brown eyes staring back.
Your own eyes.
The eyes held the look of terror with the bloodied mouth framed to look as if it was silently screaming. You force yourself to see if the rest of the body was in the garbage can, but the neck had been cut in such a way that it appears like someone had torn the head from the body.
“What sick joke is this?!?” You said.
The only thing you hear was more silence until a breeze sweeps through the grids of cookie-cutter houses, and you swear you hear someone whispering in your ear–
“Behold, your future.”
*Micro-story written for Story Saturday’s weekly writing challenge.
This story is taken from the prompt created by Liam J Cross Writing & Editing:
There is a lot to learn from inquisitiveness. And as you look through the binoculars, you find out just how much.
It was just a stupid dare.
I was visiting a friend who lived near the coast. Crissy. We hadn’t seen each other since high school. I was on break from college, and she had a day off from work.
We were on our way to town when she took a detour out in the middle of nowhere.
“Hey, where are we going?” I asked.
“There’s someplace I want to show you first.” She said.
And pulled off the graveled road. All I saw was this open grassy meadow only I couldn’t see very far as it was covered in this heavy fog. In the distance I could hear a low roar.
“Is that the ocean I hear?” I asked.
“Yep.” Crissy replied.
“So, why are we here?”
“There’s this local urban legend about this place.” She said.
Oh, great. She hadn’t changed much at all since high school.
“Crissy, I don’t want to do this.” I remembered all too well the last time she did this to me.
“No worries, Bec. I promise you won’t end up in the ER this time.” She smiled.
I rolled my eyes at her, and then let out a loud sigh. “I give up. What’s this local urban legend?”
“Some years ago, twenty I think, police picked up a man roaming this field.” She began. “He was shoeless, and mumbling about a girl haunting him. After further prodding, the police learned that a year prior this man had kidnapped a girl, raped and then killed her, and dumped her body into the ocean nearby. He claimed that every night since she would climb up out of the ocean, and go after him in his dreams. He returned to look for her body, but couldn’t find it. He begged the police to help.”
Crissy paused, and looked over at me.
“Did the police help him?”
“Yes, they called in a crime unit to search up and down the coast, but they never found a body.”
“And what happened to the man?”
“The police had him committed to a psyche ward.” Crissy said. “He died a few months later. He was found in bed, strangled to death.”
“Creepy.” I said.
“Yeah. They say that if you come to this place on a foggy day, and look towards the ocean, you may see a girl climb up from the ledge, and then disappear in to the fog.”
“Here.” She handed me a pair of binoculars. “I dare you to look.”
“This is crazy, Cris.”
“I double dare you.” She said with a grin.
I yanked the item from her hands. “For the record, I didn’t want to do this.”
“Be a good sport.” She said.
“Whatever.” I muttered and looked through the binoculars. All I saw was this thick white mist, and nothing beyond. “I can’t see a thing. Now, can we go?”
“You didn’t even really try.” She said. “Scared you’ll actually see something?”
“No, just bored.”
This damn girl…if she wasn’t a friend…
“I hate you.” I said, and stormed away and out in to the meadow.
I walked until I was completely enveloped in the mist. The roaring now much louder. I dared not to venture any further for fear of falling off the ledge.
Crissy loved doing these sort of things to friends. She get off on them mostly by our reactions. Being the only child, I’m sure she did these kinds of stuff for attention since her parents rarely paid any to her.
I took a deep breath, and looked through the binoculars once more.
This time the fog diminished just before the drop off to the expansive ocean where the rolling gray water spread as far as the eyes could see until it met the sky.
I saw nothing else.
Yet, I couldn’t remove the binoculars from my eyes as I continued to stare out towards the horizon. Morbid curiosity pulsed through me as I remained rooted to the spot.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
One more look and then I’ll head back to the car.
Opening my eyes, I scanned the view ahead.
A pair of dirtied hands appeared on the ledge, grasping at grass and dirt.
My god…oh my god…
My hands shook as the binoculars shuttered on my face and the view blurred.
No, I don’t want to see her face.
I spun around and jogged back to the car. Crissy sat on top of the hood. I could see a smirk forming on her mouth.
I shove the binoculars at her. “Yeah. Now it’s time to go.”
The fire is consuming the world.
Yet, here I stand, in a place still untouched.
I inhale the sweet breath of nature. Not a scent of smoke or sulfur…for now.
The sun rays dash between the gray billows of the reddening sky. I spy a pair of sea gulls interweaving with one another near a calm lake.
It’s the silence before chaos.
My legs are quivering. The need to flee filling my essence.
Flames and oceans of lava are bludgeoning everything, and soon even this tiny haven will be claimed by their instinctual desire to burn all to ashes.
Of all the ways to die…
Oh, to fly high like the birds, to outrun the hell that’s swiftly coming my way.
It’s not death that I fear.
No, it’s the thought of the agony of my flesh melting and sliding off my bones while I’m still alive.
For days, I have tried to outrun this terrible destiny, but now there is no where else to hide to.
A gentle breeze caresses my wet skin, cooling on contact as I stifle a shiver. Closing my eyes, the melodious cries of birds drift through me.
Have mercy…let it be quick.
It’s the most exciting find in archeological history. An ancient structure uncovered in a sea of dirt and rocks. Experts are telling the public that it once was used to house thousands of paper items. A library full of books.
Archaic relics of a long since extinct race of man.
I recently came across a prompt put out by Liam J Cross Writing and Editing:
A rocket ship to outer space. A mission to save the world. Or so they thought…
It was way too intriguing NOT to write a story for this!
He watched as the white smoke trailed behind the first rocket as it zoomed up towards space. For months, it was advertised, preached, and listed as “man’s greatest hope for survival,” but he knew the truth.
By agreeing to send “them” any and all offspring for research and food, they basically secured mankind’s doom. It was only a matter of time before the public found out, and what would happen then?
Again, he knew.
Chaos. Total anarchy. And then what would “they” do?
No matter what, annihilation was certain for them all.
*Author’s Note: I wrote this short story over five years ago. It’s dark. It’s creepy. It’s one of my secular, mainstream stories that I decided NOT to submit for publication now on Wattpad.
Leesa, a mother and wife, contemplates on the undesirable state of her life…but one should be careful, you might just get what you wished for in the most unexpected of ways.
Shadows wavered in the expansive backyard as the woman peered through the round window in front of her. The reflection within the twilight didn’t reveal a happy face. The skin under her brown eyes, fixed on the deck that spread beneath the small set of panes, sagged with a purplish hue. Premature wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth. No, she definitely wasn’t a happy person. Her hands mindlessly moved each dish from the stainless steel sink, rinsed under cool water, and then carefully placed in the racks of the dishwasher. She then reached for the knife and grabbed the wrong end.
“Damn it!” She recoiled and placed the bleeding finger into her mouth.
Nope, it’s been the week from hell, and this was just another reminder that it hasn’t end yet.
Voices drifted into the room from a nearby television.
“Here are our top news of the hour.” A male news anchor said. “State and Federal law officials are investigating multiple cases involving children who have gone missing in the past three days. In every cases, each child reported to have disappeared sometime between bedtime and morning…”
“Frank.” She turned her head towards the living room. “Please turn it to something else.”
“Yes, dear.” A man’s voice said.
A click sounded and a commercial about a brand of soda came on. She went back to rinsing a coffee mug with the uninjured hand when the floor board creaked. She turned and smiled at her four-year old daughter who stood, wearing a pink nightgown, at the entrance of the kitchen.
Renee. The small child was the only source of joy in her otherwise joyless life.
“What’s the matter, Renee? Did you have a bad dream?”
The girl shook her head, locks of blonde curls waved over her petite shoulders. “No, mummy.”
Mother picked up a towel to dry her hands. “What’s wrong then?
“There’s a boogeyman in my room.”
I have two other short stories also on Wattpad. These two have been previously published.