Saturday, August 18, 2012

31DWC: Day 18

Prompt: Words woven like cheap fabric.

A piece of wisdom:

Speech is only a small amount of communication between humans. So much more is said by body language, by how one looks at something or someone. The sounds that leave our mouths mean nothing. We lie all the time, after all. One can say they love someone and not mean it, they can say they hate someone and mean the exact opposite. Words mean very little.

Words are lies. Unless they match the energy and emotion coming from you, they are like the cheap fabric that rips at the slightest amount of pressure.

Words are lies.
If you want the truth, look at a person’s energy, at their aura, at their emotion, at their actions.
Because words are just lies.
Nothing more.

31DWC : Day 17

Prompt: Take my hand I'll hold your breath.

I look at you and see someone who has never experienced certain parts of life. There’s innocence and a naivety that comes with not having done so. And there’s nothing wrong with that. They’re part of life, and occasionally can be something that people run away from. I think you ran from it for a while even.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but I love to show people the color that I see in the world. The color that is brought on by sensuality, by intimacy.

So take a chance, lovely.
Take my hand, walk through the doorway.
I’ll hold it open.

Come and see what the world can have to offer in this space.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

31DWC : Day 16

Prompt: The mirror shows that which you cannot see.

When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
Is it just your reflection?

When you look in the mirror, you see so much more.
It’s not just your reflection
It’s who and what you are.
The qualities, the traits that make up you.

And sometimes, we don’t see the most uplifting of things about ourselves.
You look and you see a freak
Someone who’s not good looking
Who’s too skinny, or fat
Someone who has bags under their eyes
Or their chest is too small or big

Sometimes though, this is not the reflection we’re looking at
But rather the things that we see are what we believe
Not what is

The mirror shows that which you cannot see.
Sometimes mirrors aren’t purely just a reflective piece of glass
Sometimes, they’re people, in our lives
People that bring out something about us
An aspect or a trait or a problem.

They are there to show you what you’re not seeing.
These mirrors are what teach us the lessons.

They show us what we cannot see for ourselves.

31WDC : Day 15

prompt: The girl with the golden smile and the coal black heart.

I used to know her well, better than anyone else at all. She and I were attached at the hip. We knew everything about each other and loved each other dearly. Or so I believed. All of the hugs and sleepovers, the talks about boys, friends, and so many other things, were not what I thought they were.

I always had thought she had a beautiful smile; it made her glow.

But one day, when talking about her crush, her boyfriend, I noticed a glimpse of darkness coming from within her. It confused me, but I wasn’t sure. I knew that something was wrong though, and kept my eyes open.

It was not long before I realized what was going on between her and the young man she was so very much in love with. Where I had always built strands of white light, cords of love, between me and other people, she had built twisted, tar like, sticky bonds that held him to her through a network of manipulation and lies.

I felt sick the day I realized that.

Now I paid more attention than ever, and realized that the bonds between me and her were faintly tainted at her end, but the white light of my love had kept them from becoming the twisted bonds I didn’t want. I shuddered and watched even longer in horror until I could not stand being around her.

I tried to speak of it to her, and she denied it straight to my face, as though she didn’t even realize what she was doing. And maybe she didn’t.

But to me she will always now remain, the girl with the golden smile and the coal black heart.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

31DWC : Day 14

Prompt: The river of our youth runs deep.

The night was cool, pleasantly so, and lit only by the sliver of a crescent moon and starlight. I lay in the grass of the meadow, curled against Shayne’s side. He tugged me closer with one arm, using the other as a pillow as we stared up at the sky.

I heard his voice both in the air and through his chest. “I wish we could stay out here forever.”

Smiling, I turned to look up at him. “Maybe we can.” I pulled away and stood, reaching down to pull him up with me. “Surely a mountain meadow like this has some sort of beautiful magic in it. We’re under the stars, it’s beautiful out. We can stay here forever.”

He pulled me close and I could hear the grin in his voice. “Perhaps we can.”

With a grin, I tugged out of his grip, and danced away invitingly. He stepped after me and I stepped out of his reach once more. Before long, he was chasing me, and it didn’t take long for him to catch me, tackling me to the ground in a fit of laughter as we fell.

Youth was something to treasure while we could. The magic of the meadow was something special.

31DWC : Day 13

prompt: All that cannot be seen within the light.

Demons, devils and garish beasts
the Unseelie Court when unleashed
Everything that we find a grotesque sight
things that creep about every single night

Vampires, werewolves, balrogs and imps
Kelpies and things of shadowy glimpse
Banshees, ghosts and ifrits, such sights
all that scares us to hide in the light

Shadows and nightmares
bugs, spiders and blights
all that cannot be seen
within the light.

31DWC :Day 12

Prompt: Shiver in the crimson sunlight; dance in the porcelain rain.

Sunlight filtered in through the dusty and broken windows of what had used to my old home. Every beam was dancing with dust motes, leaving me bathed with crimson, my eyes dashing back and forth between the spots of light. I sat on a rickety wooden chair, inside an empty room. There was nothing left in this place for me. It was old, dead furniture and broken windows, sheets and dust and leftover memories.

I brushed stray strands of hair from my eyes as I stood, casting a silhouette upon the opposite wall from the windows. This place, this house that I had grown up in, was just like my own shadow. It was a silhouette of what it used to be.

And by morning, even that shadow would be gone.

It was already all prepared. I had drizzled gas along walls and floors, around appliances that no longer worked, over wooden furniture. It would all burn, and cleanse me of the memories in the process. There was no place for the soft girl that had grown up here. The ruthless me that had grown from that softness had no place in this house.

So I would leave no place for me to come back to.

I walked from the room, combat books making wooden floors creak. I paused only once, in the kitchen, by the old propane stove. I flipped the dials until they all were on, smelling the gas as I stomped out the kitchen door. There was a trail of gas out this door, leading the way to the bike that waited for me to ride away on.

I shivered in the cool breeze as the crimson light of the setting sun spread its weak rays around me, reflecting off of the dark clouds that were swiftly moving in from the east. Blood red clouds that would surely pour down rain. The stories that I had always heard about the bright yellow sun we had had as a planet once were just a fairytale of the girl I had once been. There was nothing else, only the blood red orb in the sky.

I stalked over to the bike, pushing my helmet onto my head and swinging my leg over. Lighting a match, I smirked, running my free hand over the burn scars under my clothing. How fitting that fire, what had made me so ruthless, would burn out every pieces of softness that I had left in my life. With a smirk, I flicked the flame onto the trail of gas, and started the bike. It purred to life under me as I looked once more at the house.

Without another thought, I turned the bike and tore down the driveway. I didn’t look back, knowing that it would take only moments for the gas trail to let the fire inside the house, and when it caught the propane, the explosion would cause wood and stone to fly. I didn’t want to be near enough to get hit.

The boom echoed through what had been my old neighborhood, and I forced myself to not look back, merely ducking my head and pushing the motorcycle to faster speeds. I sped towards the east, running away from the setting sun, and into the rain. The way that the sun tinted everything , I might have been riding towards blood, falling from the sky. I pushed that thought away as I sped away from everything that had been mine.

There was nothing left to keep me here.

Monday, August 13, 2012

31DWC : Day 11

Prompt: Your loveliest lie is the sound of your lips on mine.

Her black hair fell past her shoulders as she smoothed the silky cloth of her nightgown. She ran a brush through the dark locks as she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her lover to come home. Again and again her eyes would flash to the clock, only to find it growing later and later, and once again, he was not on time to be home.

Eyes watering, she set the brush on the bedside table, fingers curling into fists. He was always late recently. Her hair fell in front of her face as she leaned forward, wiping the tears from her eyes with delicate fingers. Anger was blossoming within her heart. She had known that her lover would not remain faithful, but it still hurt. And now, her hurt was swiftly turning to anger, and her anger would grow into rage. The image of him with a beautiful woman who was not her made her fingers curl into fists.

Silently, she waited, hair hiding her eyes.


It was not long before she heard the door close, and familiar steps coming down the hall. His blond hair was easy to see in the dim lighting, but she was nothing but a shadow. As he walked into the room, she looked up at him, letting her lips curve into a smile.

He started a little at the movement, but then seemed relieved. “Baby, you shouldn’t have stayed up for me.”

Her voice was sweet, as if she wasn’t so angry that she felt like stabbing him. “I missed you though.”

“Well, just let me shower, and then I’ll come to bed.” There was an underlying note of his voice that was almost pride. He thought he hadn’t been caught. But he paused by her, leaning down to brush his lips over hers sweetly.

She watched him go to the bathroom, waited for the shower to start running, and then moved silently on bare feet. Her hands picked up the white towel he had laid out, twisting it around until it was a tight rope in her hands, and then moved to the bathroom.

“Baby?” His voice questioned as she opened the shower door. He was still facing the wall though, head under the showerhead.

Expression full of anger, she moved swiftly, kicking at the back of his knee to make him drop. A yelp of pain and anger escaped him as he started to twist to face her, but she had already moved close behind him, heedless of the water soaking her nightgown. The white towel whipped over his head, and she twisted it in a full circle around his neck, pulling it tight. He struggled fiercely, but she had the upper hand, despite her slender body and weaker muscles.

Pulling tighter on the towel, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You played your loveliest lie for the last time. Goodbye, baby.” She waited for his struggles  to cease, and then a while longer, just to make sure.

Leaving him on the shower floor with the white towel around his swiftly purpling neck, she stepped out, leaving a trail of water on the floor. 

Sunday, August 12, 2012

31DWC: Day10

Prompt : The whisper of claws in the darkness.

Anasticia looked out of the cave, watching the moon rise. She hid in the dark, staying out of sight, her clawed fingers running over scaled thighs. She knew that nobody must see her, and on the full moon night, there was always a lady that came out to stare over the cliff’s edge.

At the thought, her golden eyes flickered to where she would first see the woman, and the lady walked into view, pale dress flowing in the breeze. She came to a stop with her back to the cave, staring out over the ocean. The steady sound of the surf pounding the rocks below was calming to Anasticia, but she knew that most people were terrified of the cliff. It was so very high.

Which was why she wondered why this woman approached the edge so readily that night.

Faintly, her pointed ears heard the words. “I join you tonight, my love.” And with a start she stepped forward, forgetting her form for a moment.

“No! Please, stay, live!” Her voice was only a hiss, her clawed toes scraping loudly over the rocks of the cave.

The woman spun around, eyes wide, and then, as the scrape came again with Anisticia’s next step, she squeaked and ran, back the way she had come.

Anisticia sighed with relief.
But now she would have to move, leaving only the beautiful woman to know that she had, in a sense, been saved by the whisper of claws in the dark.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

31DWC: Day 9

Prompt: In the stillness of our imagination.

In the stillness of our imaginations, beautiful things can happen. We can build the greatest of things, and create things we’ve never seen before. Animals and creations of beauty and artistic skill. Games and wonderful things to pass the time. We can build cities from nothing, and from everything, create nothing at all. Amazing mixtures of animals, creations of the gods.

In the stillness of our imaginations, we can do anything. We can be the knight of valor, saving the world. Or even the soft lady of talent and power. We can be anything we wish. Even nothing at all.

But for all the beauty our imaginations bring, they also bring the dark things to us.

In the stillness of our imaginations, we create horrors as well. We destroy the cities we build with creations of things that explode, things that rip others apart and wreak havoc. Grotesque things of ugliness and creations that only wish to do nothing but evil…

But despite that… we create things of such beauty. Would we have the beauty without its opposite?

The price we pay for what we can create in our imaginations…that endless loveliness… is that it also can create our greatest nightmares...