The Dead Lands
The stacks still spewed their poison into the air, the barrels of deadly poisons lay unbroken on the ground. A beleaguered Lady Earth had ripped away her own skin to be rid of the invading humans, leaving naught but scorched rock. The Dead Lands they were called. Continue reading “The Dead Lands”
Mumu’s cottage was a house of wonder, open to all who cared to enter. Little Yu Yang loved it best. She would sit looking at the artifacts collected over Mumu’s long long lifetime. Yu Yang loved the stories Mumu would tell. Continue reading “Long Ago Along the Silk Road”
The asylum was vast, and old. Aiyana was sufficiently recovered from her injuries to be allowed out. Nothing remained wrong with her physically. She had no recollection of who she was, where she was from or what wretched events brought her here. Continue reading “The Old Asylum”
The Forest Path
Lillith pushed her little cart down the stone path. It could hardly even be called that now, the old stones were broken and cumbled, it was little more than a water run off through the darkest part of the forest. Nobody used it these days. Nobody but Lillith. She reached down to touch the boy’s forehead, still hot. He had been asleep far too long now. The fever had come on so quickly that it frightened her. Continue reading “The Forest Path”
Xerina surveyed the dining hall. All was ready, the buntings draped, chairs assembled. Xerina was not entirely pleased with the look, it was some how cheap and tawdry with the folding chairs and tables, no matter how expensive. Continue reading “The Feast”
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “fab.” Use it as a word or find a word beginning with “fab.” As always, use any way you’d like. Have fun!
“The girl is a witch! She must be purified by fire,” the old magistrate’s voice rang throughout the square.
“What are the charges?” The counselor asked her question defiantly.
Continue reading “A Fabrication – a stream of consciousness exercise”
For Crimson’s Creative Challenge
You have plenty of scope and only two criteria:
Your creative offering is indeed yours
Your writing is kept to 150 words or less
The Forest Veil
Shara walked through the heavy woods, the damp soil cool beneath her bare feet. Smelling the dead leaves and fallen limbs slowly returning to the earth, giving back energy and nutrients for the new life. Some found it noisome but to Shara is was the sweet perfume of life, ripe with the nurturing of newness and she breathed it in. Continue reading “The Forest Veil”
For Stream of Consciousness Saturday on lindaghill.com – excuse me while I go pop some cinnamon rolls into the oven.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “dough/d’oh.” Use one, use both, use ’em any way you like. Enjoy!
She sat in grandmother’s kitchen, watching as the old woman kneaded the dough with strong sure hands. Breaking off bits to form into knots and braids. There are no words to describe the smell of an old time kitchen. The fermenting scent of yeast mingled with warmth from the old oven. Rich cinnamon and sweet vanilla consort with the tang of nutmeg and allspice and warm butter lays over it all with an emollient intoxication. Continue reading “Welcome Home – Stream of Consciousness Saturday”
The Tapestry of Life
Arachne stood at the end of the line watching as the tapestry flowed out. She followed the threads back to their spindles, lightly fingering them as she went. Arachne was bound not to interfere with the course the Fates had established for each life thread. But, a little tweak here or there couldn’t hurt.
The bright pink thread that was the Princess was woven so stunningly through the tapestry of life, extinguished too soon, to be replaced by the dull tan of her eldest son. Arachne smiled as she watched the thread turning to a pale lavender, another princess.
word count 99
For Friday Fictioneers, come check out some great micro fiction.
Til next time ~Peace ~JPP
Chief Inspector Gadgot was puzzled. Six apparent suicides had appeared on these tracks. The Medical Examiner had found no cause of death.
“Hell Liam, these men should get up and walk for all I’ve found,” the examiner was as puzzled as he. Continue reading “The Axle Box Vortex”