Strong winds blew summer away, everything became colder and darker but colour bloomed in the changing leaves which danced to the ground.
Strong winds blew summer away, everything became colder and darker but colour bloomed in the changing leaves which danced to the ground.
The lawyer set himself up, clicked on his pen and began to write as his client talked. Suddenly, he noticed that his words were disappearing on the page. Frowning, he looked at the pen, it seemed normal enough but it wasn’t, it was filled with invisible ink and his client’s demands had vanished.
(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2019/07/16/twittering-tales-145-16-july-2019/ with thanks).
Nyctophilia; love of darkness or night. Finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.
I loved the night. Staying in my friend’s parent’s Greek ‘castle’, whilst I finished writing my sixth novel, I continued my nocturnal habits.
I got up late, joined my friend and her boyfriend for dinner. Then walked around the castle and down to the beach for the sunset. After, I sat by the open door at my desk, letting the night pour around.
Embracing the darkness helped write the horrors within of my novel and peace made me type faster.
The night spoke to me and as I listened to those whispers, ideas flowed into me.
(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/04/10/12-april-2019/ with thanks).
Hi everyone, I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking part in the A-Z Challenge again this year. Sorry, my for the late notice but I’m currently ill and struggling with lots of things, including mental health problems.
As of yet, I’ve not put anything together for the challenge but my plan will be like that of the last few years of taking part. I’ll search out words of different kinds that I’ve never heard of before and use them to base a story around. Some stories might also include inspiration from other imagine or writing prompts which I shall note.
The link to the challenge is here; http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/ there’s still time to sign up and get involved.
Thank you for all the support and inspiration I receive from all you comments and likes. They do help to keep me going when I’m struggling to write. Here’s to many more short stories!
It was growing dark in the woods and everyone was locking themselves inside their homes. Candles and fires burned brightly, keeping the worse of the shadows away but the villagers knew it would not protect them. Nothing would if the monsters who dwelled underneath the trees decided to eat them.
Kissa led her lame nag pony around the moss covered trees, newly lit lantern held high in her small hand. The brown and white pony whined in pain but there was nothing Kissa could do. She was too busy trying to fight down the guilt of causing the pony to stumble because she had been running the poor thing too hard to try and get home before it was dark.
Now, it was too late. Kissa toyed with the idea of leaving the pony behind. The nag was slowing her down and Kissa could run, she wasn’t wearing skirts but dressed in boys’ clothes to help hide her identity. It was safer, her parents said to pretend to be a boy when traveling to see granny because girls were likely to be kidnapped on the roads.
Kissa looked at the pony. The animal was weary, pained and sad, it would be so easy to let go of the reins and walk away but she couldn’t, Bramble was her childhood friend. So, Kissa clutched the reins tighter and patted the pony’s neck whilst muttering soothing words. She also lowered the lantern to giving them more light to see where they were walking.
‘We’ll be home soon enough now,’ Kissa spoke, ‘look, there’s the stone marker ahead.’
Bramble neighed and limped on. Her hoofs tripping over fallen branches and pebbles.
‘We’ll rest there a bit,’ Kissa added, ‘even though I know we shouldn’t stop. It’s dangerous in the dark but we’ll look after each other right?’
They reached the stone pillar which was covered in green moss and surrounded by stones in a circle. No one alive now knew what the stones had originally been placed for but they were now used to mark the miles between places even though nothing was written upon them. Many people couldn’t read anyway.
Kissa sat on one of the stones, dropping the reins and placing the lantern down. She took the cloth bag off her back, pulled out a waterskin and a wrapped packet. She drink and ate the hard bread and cheese that granny had given her. Bramble stood still, right foot slightly raised off the ground, dozing.
A wind rocked the trees above them, an owl hooted and a fox cried out, the long sound taking awhile to fade away. Kissa huddled into her cloak, trying not to let fear get to her but it was hard as she was just a child of ten years. She finished eating, saving some just in case and took a few sips of water then packed everything away.
There was a rustle in the tall bushes close by and Kissa stood up, clutching for the lantern and the reins of the pony. She shone the light in the direction and waited. Perhaps, it was just the wind or a normal animal? Or it could be….
The breathe caught in Kissa’s throat as images of monsters flooded her mind. She had never seen one before but there was enough stories and drawings around for her imagination to create them. They came in all different forms and colours but the most famous ones were black and red, had huge horns on their heads, faces and bodies of beasts, cloven hoofs, human hands and a taste for human flesh.
Kissa was stuck between running and staying, she felt the tug of fleeing more strongly but she knew Bramble wouldn’t be able to move fast. Staying still and hoping the beast passed by was the best thing to do.
Kissa wasn’t sure it would make any difference though, she had seen dogs hunting rabbits and fox out of hiding by smell and sound. The stories said the beasts had great senses; they could see in the dark, hear and scent twice as better then any dog.
The rustling stopped and the bushes that had been swaying before came still. Kissa bit her lip and slowly moved. She put on the cloth bag and started to led the pony away. It was difficult to soften her footsteps and the hoofs of Bramble. There were too many crunchy leaves and snappy branches.
‘Come on,’ Kissa urged Bramble on, ‘We’re almost home, just try a little harder.’
Before they could get out of the stone circle, a tree next to them, give off a loud crack, branches snapped and showered down on them. A large beast let out a roar so loud it shook the ground and a huge weight swung down to land before them.
Kissa screamed and threw her arms up to protect herself. The lantern banged against her arms, the candle inside wildly flickered, almost going out. The pony cried in fear and more pain as Kissa had suddenly pulled the reins upwards. Bramble twisted hard away, causing Kissa to drop the reins then using whatever energy the nag had been saving, she ran away.
‘Bramble, come back!’ Kissa shouted, spinning and getting ready to chase after the pony.
A massive, heavy, hairy hand hit her shoulder and Kissa fell to the ground. She dropped the lantern and there was a tinkling of glass. Gasping, she picked it up before the candle could go out. Breathing deeply, she stayed on the ground, tasting rotting leaves and soil whilst staring into the flickering flame. Kissa couldn’t move nor bare to look behind her.
She could hear the monster breathing heavily and sniffing around. Hoofs clomped about and the tree was still making snapping sounds. There came a smell of wet fur, dung and the stink of animals that remembered Kissa of the long haired cows some of the villagers kept.
‘Don’t eat me,’ Kissa mumbled.
She shut her eyes and lay still, waiting to feel that hand again picking her up and placing her inside a wet mouth, full of sharp teeth. She held her breath and prayed, for someone or something to save her, anything that would keep her safe and Bramble too, wherever the poor nag had ended up.
The hands and claws never came though, the monster was still walking around, letting out snorting and growling sounds. It seemed to be keeping it’s distance.
Kissa slowly pulled herself up and sat next to the lantern. She saw the monster; a towering, hairy beast with twisted horns growing on either side of his head, black and red fur, stood on two legs like a man, only the feet were cloven and the long fingers curled up. The face was made up of a large snout, with a wet black nose and a snarling mouth where white fangs were stained black, the monster had deep red eyes that were staring at her.
‘What do you want?’ Kissa spoke as she curled up into a tight ball.
The monster roared and leaped towards her but before it could touch her, the monster was thrown back. A tree trunk broken under it’s weight and the tree fell with a crash.
Kissa shuffled and hit the stone. She cried out then stopped as the monster ambled towards her again. The beast paced around the edge of the stone circle, staring at her and snarling.
‘It can’t get in….’ Kissa mumbled.
Kissa got more comfy and moved the lantern to be at her feet. She hugged herself and hopped that Bramble has made it home. Not sure what to do, Kissa put her head onto her knees and despite the danger she was in, began to doze off.
Three times, Kissa woke herself with a start and the second and third times, she found the monster gone and the woods quiet. She thought about leaving the circle and trying to follow the path home but the candle was getting low and the night was still pressing down.
Finally, she lay down and gave into sleep. Sometime later, the candle gutted and went out. A curl of smoke drifted upwards then the darkness fully settled. The monster crept forward two times and tried to break the protective circle with all his might but nothing would make the strong ancient magic give.
As dawn approached, the monsters faded into the shadows of the trees, going underneath them into the cold, darkness. Sunlight touched everything, birds burst into morning song and Kissa awoke.
Rubbing her face, she looked around and saw no monsters. She prayed her thanks, gathered the lantern and with a deep breathe stepped out of the stone circle. Nothing rushed towards her and she felt the sunlight warm on her face.
Sticking to the path, Kissa walked home, feeling weary with lack of sleep and fading fear. Soon the path wove down into her village and she saw most of the villagers standing around getting ready to head out into the woods. Kissa spotted Bramble standing by her house, her brother holding the reins and she rushed forward to hug the pony.
‘bramble! You’re safe! I’m glad you didn’t get eaten!’ Kissa cried.
Then her parents were sweeping her up and fussy and asking where she had been and what had happened.
Kissa told them everything and when she was exhausted, she fell sleep on her father’s shoulder, truly safe once again.
(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2018/10/25/thursday-photo-prompt-way-stone-writephoto/ for thanks).
I can’t believe that October is here! September seems to have flown by and taking the last of summer with it. Outside it feels like autumn is settling in now. The leaves on the trees are changing coloring and falling. There’s also been strong wind and heavy wind but most noticeable the fast coming and long nights. I remember during summer, it still being light till nine but now the clock chimes seven and night arrives.
Now normally, I’d be so excited and looking forward to Halloween but I’m not. I just can’t seem to shake off this feeling that something is wrong. I’ve reviewed everything and turned lot over in my head whilst laying in bed these past nights, but I still don’t know where this feeling has come from. It’s like I’ve forgotten something important or there’s something off about my normal self, I’m not thinking right anymore.
I don’t know if I should just let it go or try to figure out more deeply what’s wrong? Maybe, it’s just the full change of the season coming in. I mean, summer has felt so hot and long this year and I guess we’ve all gotten so use to living in what seems to be a more tropical country. Now, it’s back to normal England and everyone is unhappy – expect for people like me who are not a fan of the heat!
It’s also that point of the year when I just feel more alone and fed up. Not for any real reason, it’s just feeling tried and ill all the time. I know it’ll pass and I do really want it to. There’s a lot to look forward to in the next few weeks and months, too much for me to be in this grumpy mood!
Strange things have been happening in the new house. I’ve not really had the time to write since our first night because we’ve been busy unpacking and buying things.
It’s four days later now and expect for the first night, though of course something could have happen but we were too tried to notice, something has been going on.
The second night, soon after midnight when I had put baby back to sleep again, I heard noises in the quietness. It sounded like someone moving things in the attic – a wooden trunk bring dragged and footsteps.
I woke Blaine up but we heard nothing. A few hours later, I heard a soft crying and woke up thinking it was Poppy, but she was fast asleep.
The next day, our second full day in the house, I went out with Poppy for a walk. Blaine had returned to work but I still had another month on maternity.
The park across the road is really nice. The duck pond is clean and the ducks even look posh. Is that an actual thing? Maybe, it’s because there were two white swans gliding about.
There were large patches of grass and trees, two playgrounds, sport areas and a skateboard bowl. From across the way, came the sound of children playing and I could just make out the primary school behind the high hedges.
When we got home, I knew something was wrong. I closed the door, took Poppy straight from her pram and walked through the house. The back door in the kitchen was slightly ajar.
Thinking someone had broken in, I went over and found that perhaps, I hadn’t locked the door and the wind had pushed it open. The back garden gate was secure and the fence too high for someone to climb over.
Then though, I found all the upstairs doors open and I knew I had closed them. Nothing seemed to have been taken. I told Blaine and we agreed to get all the locks changed and things secured.
That night, I heard things moving in the kitchen. It didn’t sound like a person though, it seemed to be more like the wind rustling things and making stuff creak. Trying to remember if I’d left the window open, I went downstairs and there wasn’t anything. I had left the light on and the window was closed.
Poppy was awake when I got back, wanting changing and feeding. Blaine slept on and I let him, I know how tried he was having to juggle being a new dad, having a new job and having to move.
I tried to get to sleep again but I don’t know. I just felt too awake which is strange as since weeks before Poppy arrived I’ve been so exhausted. I listened to the noises of the house, water dripping somewhere, pipes rattling, a door creaking, the stairs creaking, a door handle rattling…
I sat up and listened hard. Perhaps, it had been nothing. There are lots of noises in a new house. but I just have this feeling that it’s not just that…
I don’t know. I don’t believe in ghosts, I don’t even like watching horror movies or reading stories. I don’t have time for such nonsense. It’s properly just a side effect of the tiredness and stress. In a few months, it’ll just be normal and the house will feel like it’s always been ours, at least, I hope so.
He had tried everything; morning jogs, early nights, watching people, re-planning. Nothing worked, the muse had left. He lent on the desk, hands gripping his hair, feeling frustrated.
His laptop was waiting for his next words and if he was to scroll back, he would see the result of all his hard work. It wasn’t enough, he hadn’t finished the novel and now he was on his last idea to break the writer’s block.
He picked up a pen and began writing on his notepad. At first, came a flow of his thoughts and feelings then ideas appeared followed by something he could at least try and use. He turned back to his laptop and forced himself back into writing.
Jenna was meant to be writing but she couldn’t do it. Every time she tried to sit at her computer nothing happened. She tidied the house and did the chores she had been putting off. She watched TV, telling herself she was looking for inspiration.
Finally back at the desk, Jenna tried to get her into the story. A loud squawk distracted her and she looked out of the window to see a large bird staring in at her. Wondering what it was doing, Jenna got up and went into the back garden, story officially abandoned.
(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/06/13/15-june-2018/ with thanks).
Kuidaore; to eat yourself into bankruptcy.
He didn’t know what else to do now and re-living his past allowed him to feel something again. He made bookings at any restaurant he could, though some he knew lied to him about being fully booked for months. They either remembered him from all those years ago when he had given them bad reviews or they had heard about his demise and thought him out of his mind.
Well, he was wasn’t he? The dementia that had taken his wife had decided it wanted him too. He was a better fighter then her but it was hard now he was on his own. Sometimes he thought about contacting his daughter again and making things right but the pain was too much. So instead, he looked up the newest places to eat and phoned them.
‘Byon’s, how can I help?’ asked the cheerful male voice.
‘Can I have a table for one for tomorrow around half past six?’ he said.
‘Yes, you can. What’s your name, please?’
‘Mr Higgson,’ he replied, trying to hold back a chuckle. Giving false names was his new way to get in.
‘That’s booked for you, thank you.’
Hanging up the phone, he jotted it down in his diary and looked up another place to phone for the next night.
‘Hello, The White Rabbit pub,’ said a tried woman’s voice.
‘I’d like to book a table for two, please,’ he said.
That was his other trick, to book extra seats and then say that person or them weren’t coming but he still wanted to eat.
‘For when?’ the woman asked.
‘Friday lunchtime, around half one.’ he answered.
‘Yes, we can fit you in. Name?’
‘I’ll book that in.’
‘Thanks,’ he said and hung up the phone.
He wrote that down under Friday then leaving the diary open on his desk, turned to his old PC. A document was open on the screen and he had been typing up his notes from yesterday’s meal.
The Toad At The Hall Inn is a most pleasant place though it would be even nicer if dogs and children were banned. My meal which I shall describe shortly, was constantly interrupted by loud barking and crying. Also, there is the constant arriving and departing of hikers, cyclists and drivers, making relaxing in this ‘cosy countryside’ place hard.
Looking at an open notebook, he re-read his scrambled notes then carried on typing. He worked on his review for another twenty minutes then he needed the bathroom. Getting up on cramped knees, he hobbled to the bathroom.
The phone rang whilst he was in there. He didn’t bother hurrying, the answer machine would get it and it was probably only a cold caller anyway. Gone were the days when, the editors, colleagues, friends and chiefs would phone him to suggested this or that place, to give praise about his latest review or remind him of a deadline.
Who was that ringing him?
He came out and picked up the phone. It stop ringing and there was a dial tone. They had hung up. With a shrug, he wondered what he had been doing. His thoughts had wandered, a bad thing to let happen. He looked around, hoping something would remind him, when nothing came in went into the living room and put the TV on.
There was a daytime cooking show on. It jogged his memory, I must phone those other restaurants and get some more money, he thought.
It was really only food, travel and bills he spend money on now. Well, what was left of it….He had gotten through most of his savings now but what else was he going to spend his money on? And what did the money matter, it was the food that counted! The food was the most important thing!
Speaking of, what was he doing right now? He glanced around, unsure then got up.
‘I should phone those other restaurants,’ he said and hobbled back to his desk.
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Life is make believe, fantasy given form
Dark vampire fantasy. Because dangerous fiction is sexy.
A man with dyslexia writing about this and that and everything else!