Noyade #AtoZChallenge

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Noyade – an execution carried out by drowning.

The ropes bit deeply into her wrists but she held her head high. Around her, villagers chanted, ‘witch, witch, witch!’ She ignored their cries and walked bare footed to the edge of the pond.

Everything was already set up, the witch hunter hadn’t delayed. He pushed her into a chair and she was tied into it. More ropes cut into her skin and cold prickled through the under dress she had been stripped too.

She said nothing. Knowing there was no sense in talking to anyone. They all believed what they wanted to believe and how could the single voice of the accused sway a crowd like this?

A crank handle was turned and slowly she rose up. Men pulled her out over the surface of the water. The villagers started yelling and waving their farming tools or whatever else had been to hand before they had come storming to her hovel.

The witch hunter called for silence and spoke out, ‘if she floats she is a witch. If she sinks she is not!’

‘Witch! Witch!’ the villagers yelled.

She felt the cold swirl of the pond water against her toes then her whole body was plunged into the water as the rope holding her snapped. She heard the screams of the villagers then nothing as the water closed over her.

(Inspired by; http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com)

Afreet #DearDiary #AtoZChallenge

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Afreet – a powerful jinn or demon from Arabian and Muslim mythology

Dear Diary,

My eBay parcel has arrived! A whole two months after ordering and having the delivery date continuously set back. I wasn’t expecting to never receive it, thinking I’d fallen into a scam again but no! I opened the parcel and inside was the box! And it’s a perfect addition to my collection.

It’s so pretty, all cherry wood with intricate inlaid design of flowers, leaves and swirls. It’s bigger then both my hands put together, so a medium size then. It’s hard to tell the age but it must be old because it’s smooth to the touch and looks quite worn down. There’s damage to one corner, it’s cracked and chipped but it’s at the back so can be hidden.

I went to open it but couldn’t not! There was a tiny keyhole lock and of course, no key to be found! Disappointed but determined, I got some tools out and after a few minutes I had broken the lock.

The hinges were old too but silent as I opened the box. Inside, was all wood and a darker colour from the outside which showed how time had aged things.

I smiled, thankful it had arrived safely but then a sort of thick, dark red mist rose up from the box! There was a strong gust of air, I dropped the thing and tumbled backwards. I hit my head on the edge of the sofa and as I sat up rubbing the growing bruise, I saw a form taking place above the coffee table.

I was too shocked to cry out or anything, I just carried on watching as before me appeared a huge red demon ? His massive black curly horns bashed into the ceiling, He had no hair, his eyes with gold coloured and the size of dinner plates. His body was all rippling with muscles and they were so pronounced I could count them all clearly! His hands and fingers were long and claw like. From his hips downwards was a tornado of red smoke which twisted down to a sharp point.

He was heavily decorated with gold jewelry; chains as thick as his arms were around his neck and waist, huge hoop earrings hung from dropped lops and touched his shoulders. Around his wrists and arms were so many bracelets and cuffs it was hard to see his red skin underneath! On his claws were many rings, some were solid but others had gem and precious stones inlaid.

An almighty laugh echoed out of him which shook my house like an earthquake. He seemed very pleased about something. He curled his hands up and rose them to the ceiling as he threw his head back, horns scraping the ceiling and raining down bits of plaster.

I wet myself with fear. I hate to admitment that, Diary but it’s true. I thought I had released the Devil himself! I hide behind the sofa, shaking and with my hands over my ears because his laughter was deafening and sounded like that of an insane man. There was no time to think or do anything. Not that I could have done if I was capable.

The laughter faded then the sofa was tossed aside as if it was little more then child’s rag doll. The demon looked me down, puffing out mega lung fulls of breath.

‘Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry!’ I cried.

‘Bow to me mortal!’ the demon’s voice boomed.

I nodded and pressed my head to the carpet. What else was I meant to do?

‘I am an Afreet, a Jinn and you have released me after a hundred years of being stuck in that box.’

‘A genie? Like in a super being who grants wishes?’ I questioned to myself.

‘No. I am a demon of the underworld,’ replied the Afreet, ‘and now I am free once more to reap chaos on the world!’

He laughed that horrible victorious laugh once more then explode out of living room. My house crumpled like a bomb had hit it. I dashed out of the hole the Afreet had made and into the street. I tripped over something and lay dazed in the middle of the road.

My house was obliterated and nothing more then a pile of bricks and broken glass. The firebridge said it must have been a gas leak or an unexploded World War 2 bomb that had been missed and just triggered itself.

Recovering in hospital and now resting in this hotel room, I decided to write this true account of what happened. Where the Afreet is now I have no idea but I know he was real and soon we will feel the chaos.

(Inspired by; http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2020/04/atozchallenge-2020-anamnesis.html?fbclid=IwAR1f82CLEmAg_AoRywI2FIKGN-OBFnOj7yuGd_JVWiayKcigQmzAADB2L0E thanks.

It’s that time of year again! It’s the April A-Z challenge. I’m sticking with my normal theme of discovering words. I hope you enjoy reading all my stories this month and like me, learn some new words along the way).

Glacial #WeekendWritingPrompt

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The ice was melting fast and Steven was trying to slow it down. As he trekked back to the scientific base, he spotted something rising up from the coast. Getting closer, he saw the remains of a city. Awed, he realised he had just discovered something for more important then stopping the melting.

 

(Inspired by; https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2019/06/15/weekend-writing-prompt-110-glacial/ with thanks).

 

 

Build Again #TaleWeaver

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The island was use to all kinds of storms which was why I had decided to move here to study them. Newly waving my degree and happy to be finally striking out on my own, I was naive to adulthood and the overall consequences of surviving storms.

My first one was an evening thunder and lightening storm out at sea. I sat on the roof of my new bungalow house with my binoculars, camera and notebook in hand, watching and recording the fascinating scene of lightening bolts striking large waves.

After that, there were tropical storms which whipped the wind and rain into a frenzy that crashed down trees and damaged houses. A violent sea storm that causes a cliff to fall and low down houses to be flooded. More thunder and lightening, including one that started a fire in a patch of woodland.

I studied them all, publishing reports and making my wages at the weather station. Of course, I felt some of those storms’ effects but I was never threatened. However, six months in and there came a report from the mainland about a possible hurricane hitting us.

I was the one who picked up the message and brought it to my supervisor to read.

‘Chances are it’ll miss us, like the last two,’ he said then took the report to the boss.

So, no need to worry then.

Throughout the month, more and more warnings came in and with a week to go, the hurricane wouldn’t be ignored anymore. We had been putting out the word, recommending that people prepared for the worse and should think about leaving for safer mainland cities.

I excited, my first hurricane! decided not to bother returning home except to collect somethings then moved into the accommodation next door.

Whilst everyone else was protecting their homes by putting up wooden boards or metal sheets, stacking sandbags, then stocking essentials and either leaving their homes or hunkering down in storm shelters and basements, I was in my element watching the  hurricane growing.

When it hit, something finally clicked in my body and the urge to flee grew so much I had no choice but to go and join the other weather station employees in the shelter. The winds were over 100 MPH causing trees, houses and everything else to be tossed around, I could here these constant sounds of the wind roaring and things crashing. The rain pelted down like stones. I could also make out the sound of the sea in the background, which was swelling around the island as if trying to claim it back.

I don’t know why it took till that moment, huddled on a camping bed under a sleeping bag, wide awake, watching the electric lights flicking then finally dying that true knowledge of my situation kicked in. A million thoughts flooded me and the flight instinct screamed but there was nowhere to go. I reasoned with myself, eyes fixed on the metal door, that if I went out there death awaited whilst in here there was a chance of surviving.

I felt terrified, sick and emotional all at once, shakes racked my body, the noise wouldn’t stop in my head. I bolted up, hands over ears, screaming and screaming. It didn’t help though because I could still hear the hurricane.

Everyone tried to calm me down but I was beyond human contact. My supervisor sat with me, repeated talking. I guess tiredness made me stop in the end. Everything was damp with my tears and loud with my panic. Blinded, deaf and numb, I just remembered, my supervisor getting me to drink water and take some pills.

‘Those will calm you and these make you sleep,’ he explained.

Like the electricity, I was out for the rest of the hurricane.

When I came to, I was alone and silence pressed heavily on me. I got up went to the bathroom, had a shower and brushed my teeth. Dressed, I walked out of the shelter and saw that everything had changed.

Trees broken in to bits, lay across everything and things underneath them; houses, cars etc were crushed into almost unrecognisable pulps. The weather station was gone, blown apart as if hit by a bomb. Most of the other buildings looked the same, as if they had been wiped away. Those that still stood were flooded and only fit to be knocked down.

Boats that been in the harbour were now on land, sticking out from the remains of houses and trees or laying in lakes that had once been fields. Roads had given way, creating dead ends and blockades to places. Rubbish and peoples’ belongs were scattered everywhere that it would be impossible to reunite things when the clean up began.

I walked slowly, trying to pick patches of dry and clear-ish to step. My mind was reeling, I had only seen scenes like this in photos and on TV. There was just too much to take in and I could smell the sea so harshly my nose was sore.

I reached a small group of people, picking things out of the remains of the weather station. My supervisor waved me over.

‘How you feeling?’

‘Okay,’ I muttered.

‘Look at all this!’ he said picking up a piece of twisted metal, ‘oh, well. When we rebuild, more hurricane proofing is needed.’

‘Rebuild? How can you?’ I cried, ‘everything is just…gone!’

‘Not everything. We are still here.’

He had a point.

‘Don’t let this put you off,’ he added, ‘it’s not all bad.’

I nodded and with nothing else to do, went and helped where I could.

From that moment, I give storms greater respect and I made my job more about helping people survive them then just studying them.

 

(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/tale-weaver-209-rebuild-7th-february/ with thanks).

 

‘Tis Not The Season To Be Jolly #TMAT120

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I didn’t have any Christmas spirit inside of me, what I’d had instead had been cancerous lumps. The doctor said the operations had been a success but I would have to stay in hospital over Christmas to recover. There was no place worse to spend Christmas, other then jail and the streets, I guess.

‘Home by new year’s eve, maybe, if you are well enough,’ he had added.

I looked at the few tatty decorations the ward nurses had strung up and the tiny Christmas tree on the table. It looked like no one had even tried, like me they couldn’t be bothered. There was no jolliness to be had here.

 

(Inspired by; https://rantingalong.blog/2018/12/06/joelles-tales-first-thursday-of-the-month-tmat120-writing-prompt-for-december-2018/ with thanks).

 

My Merry Little Christmas #WeeklyWritingChallenge

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I’d had it with him! Blocking his number, I officially deleted my ex-boyfriend from my life. Sitting crossed legged and arms on the sofa, grumpily gazing at the TV but not taking the ten o’clock news in, I shoved my heartbreak away.

I wasn’t going to cry and feel sorry for myself. I hadn’t been the one sleeping around, getting drunk and kissing girls in nightclubs. We’d only been together six months, hardly anytime at all. And anyway, I’d hated his taste in music, movies, his dislike of books and his big ego. We’d had little in common from the beginning and it was only thanks to his interest in American sports we had started dating.

Still though, Christmas was around the corner and now I’d be spending it alone. Well, there was family to visit but I’d feel like the odd one out.

I looked at the Christmas decorations and the little fire burning in the fireplace. It needed stoking and more wood adding. I was in no mood to sleep now, so I got up and kneeling down, grabbed the poker. Jabbing it in, the flames woke from their doze. I put another two logs in and which the fire growing once more.

Back on the sofa, I wanted something to take my mind off things. The TV wasn’t helping, I didn’t have enough concentration to read a book and my house was all ready tidy. There were presents still to wrap, cards to write but I wasn’t feeling up to that. I needed an action plan, something to total focus on and forget about him for awhile.

I got my laptop out and went surfing the internet. There were lots of distractions out there. I clicked on link after link; reading blog posts, news, comic strips, finally I came to some Christmas craft website and scrolled through. There were lots of things I could make but my heart wasn’t in it.

Turning the TV off, I went on to a video website and listened to some live relaxing music. I made some hot chocolate and toast, curled up again and drifted into the sounds of the fire and the sad piano notes.

For some reason, that song about having having yourself a merry little Christmas popped into my head. I hummed it whilst hugging my warm mug and thought, yes, I’m going to have one of those this year and I’ll be happier and better for it.

 

(Inspired by; https://secretkeeper.net/2018/12/10/weekly-writing-challenge-171/ with thanks).

Open Door #TaleWeaver

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Even now, in the middle of nowhere, in the the heart of darkness and grip of the coming winter, did people still keep the candles burning in the old tiny chapel.

If by chance you came across someone and asked them why, they would reply, ‘to keep the evil spirits away. Pray there to be kept safe before continuing your journey.’

You would go and do that. Enter the tiny white building with lots of light spilling out of the door and single window. Take off your snowflake covered hat and kneel before the baby alter. Pray for safe passage through the Nomad Mountains and ask God to protect you from evil spirits, Amen. Then you leave and make it safely back home.

Or perhaps, that response would amuse you because you don’t believe in such things. You carry on, not going inside the chapel but merely glancing at the light pouring out of the tiny building. You walk into the mountains, where you hear crying and screaming. Darkness rolls over you, consuming you and you never make it home.

Somethings are not worth the risk.

 

(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/10/11/tale-weaver-192-an-open-door-october-11th/ with thanks).

Settings #1LinerWeds

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It was a writer’s retreat; a converted boat house on a large lake surrounded by inspiring and breathtaking landscapes.

(Inspired by; https://lindaghill.com/2018/08/29/one-liner-wednesday-settings/ with thanks.)

 

Snail Mail #1LinerWeds

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He misunderstand the term and thought people wrote letters to each other on the shells of snails.

(Inspired by; https://lindaghill.com/2018/08/15/one-liner-wednesday-snail-mail/ with thanks).

What Really Happened #WeeklyWritingChallenge

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This story isn’t about them, it’s about you. Though everyone is going to try and make you believe that isn’t true but at the end of the day what does anyone else actually know? You were there and they were there but everyone else wasn’t and they’ve heard the story second hand and not the first account like you have it in your head.

It was raining in the park and you were walking under your umbrella. You had no busy there and were just out because you were bored at home. You had thought about going to the library but it was shut today. You went into the tree lined way, your favorite area.

Here, the trees reminded you of giant soldiers, lined in welcome and you could day dream about being someone special as you went by. You came to the bench you always like to sit on but today there was a note left there.

The paper was wet but you picked it up anyway and read it. It was a letter to a girl from a boy which started off sweet but then turned sour. The boy was breaking up with the girl, not through any fault but because her parents had told him to.

You felt sad. Why did this have to happen? You wonder about the girl, she’ll feel worse and what would that make her do? Fall out with her parents? Harm herself? And the poor boy! He’d be just the same.

You decide this can’t let this happen, so you take the letter. Why should the young couple be parted? You go to leave, the rain patting off your umbrella and the trees, the letter curled up in your hand. A voice calls out to you, starling you and making you look all around.

A young man comes out from behind a tree where he was been waiting and watching. He demands the letter back. You refused to give it him but he was persistent and says the letter isn’t your’s.

You give the soggy paper back to him. He tells you to go. You watch him place the note back on the bench. You tell him that it’s unfair, there must be another way, two people shouldn’t be heartbroken.

He says it’s none of your business.

You go to snatch the letter but he is closer and faster. He runs off into the trees. You decided because you have nothing else to do that you will wait and see if the girl turns up. You sit on the bench, listening to the rain and waiting.

The girl does come sometime later and before the boy can appear, you call the girl over and tell her all. She is most upset and doesn’t understand why you, a stranger is telling her all of this. You try to comfort her, but she doesn’t want to know.

The boy appears and you watch them arguing under a tree, both sometimes pointing to you. Deciding, you get up and go over, you want to fix things. The couple won’t listen though, they demand to be left alone but you can’t, you are involved now. Though you’ll wish for the rest of your life you weren’t.

You make suggestions about how they can stay together, drawing on experience and fiction. The teenagers are not interested though, they see you as a busy-body and want you to stay out of their business. You explain why you can’t and why you feel the need to help them.

They don’t want your help.

You insist in telling them of a way to escape though. You and a lover once a loped from the island and the young couple can do that to. Though when they question you about that lover, you blank over it – things didn’t work out but why do they need to know?- You tell them to buy tickets for the eleven o’clock ferry and go to the other side to start a new life together.

You pled with them not to let their young love die and to try decided what others tell them. Isn’t first love so innocent? So pure? They need to hold on to that! You try to explain it as best you can but they don’t understand. You give them some money for the boat tickets and tell them to go.

The rain starts to come down more heavily, they look at you then each other. They hold hands and walk away, you watch them go. You head home with a heavy heart and an over questioning mind. Was it the right thing to do? Will they be okay?

You won’t know for days afterwards. Then you see the first TV report. Everyone says it was a tragic accident, the young couple fell over board because the rough sea. Then, that it was murder by one of their parents, a relative, a friend, a hired hit person. Lastly, it was suicide.

It’s never proven what really happened to them. But you know.

(Inspired by; https://secretkeeper.net/2018/07/02/weekly-writing-challenge-148/ with thanks).