K.A. Ashcomb's Blog, page 13

Day 82 Ruminating And Writing

Survive

I have been struggling to survive. My thoughts, my mind, seem to torment me. There is no hour in the day when they aren’t there. They keep whispering my name. They want me to do things. I have no escape. No drug. No alcohol. Nothing works. I’m afraid all the time. One day, they will make me do something I regret. I can already feel their control over me. I have resisted them so far. But I can feel myself slipping.

Hedgehog

He peered under the bush. There it was again. It had bee...

Day 81 Ruminating And Writing

Captive

The little creature tossed and turned in the cage. It was nothing like she had seen before. She had trapped enough creatures in the forest to think she knew all sorts of what lived there, but this was the first of its kind. She turned her head, and the little dark fur ball stopped moving. She peered into it, and huge yellow eyes opened up to peer back at her.

“There you are,” she said. “I can’t have you roaming in from the portal. Earth is not made for you.”

The creature said no...

Day 80 Ruminating And Writing

Chess

The pieces fell to the floor. She swiped her hand over the chessboard. She groaned and watched as the rest of the pieces fell away.

“You won’t get any good with that attitude,” her father said.

“I don’t want to be any good. I want to—” she protested.

“We both know that’s not true. So when you are ready, come and get me.” Her father walked out of the living room.

She got off her chair and knelt to collect the chess pieces. She wanted nothing more than to win. But he was playi...

Day 79 Ruminating And Writing

Queen

There was one way to remain a queen, and that was to kill. She had learned it the hard way that there needed to be a bloody sacrifice or else they would think her weak. She had taken their husbands and wives. She had left them secluded and alone to quiver in the night. Now, no one dared to oppose her. They schemed against her. But that would never come to anything. They were too alone, too scared. She hated it. She had done what was shown to her that had to be done, but this was not wha...

Day 78 Ruminating And Writing

Fate

The house was cursed from the beginning. It had been built on the sacred, hollow ground. Now, its wood was rotting away under the peeled paint. The grass had grown taller than the hares scattering around. The blinds were shut, and the family still living there would have the same fate as the families before them.

There had been happy moments. Moments when you could believe it all worked out. You could say that it had started beautifully, but then the ground, then the house, gradually ...

Day 77 Ruminating And Writing

Card

The letterbox clanged—a small card settled on the floor. On the beige background, there was an image of a seaside scene. The ocean swayed on the card, feeling alive—more than the striped carpet underneath the card. The seagulls screamed loudly, and ice cream was dropped on the ground, accompanied by the cry of a child. All that for an empty house that didn’t hear the invitation the card promised. Behind was a text, “I miss you,” without a sender.

If the house were full, there would be...

Day 76 Ruminating And Writing

Tremble

It started as a slight tremor at first. No one thought to pay any mind to it. It was just a shake. Barely a shake. But then, when the summer stretched long, and the days were hotter than they had been in decades, the tremble got worse. Everyone was baffled where it came from. The scientists said that there was no tectonic activity. This was no earthquake, nor was any volcano about to erupt. Those people who could leave the city. They took residence in their summer homes or relatives. ...

Day 75 Ruminating And Writing

Thirst

The desert stretched wide and far before them. They had been walking for four days straight, and the food and water they had been carrying were slowly vanishing. None of them wanted to admit that they were lost, that the desert would never end, and they would die. It was hope that kept them going.

It was after the last drop of water had been exhausted that the madness began. The desert warped around them, and the heat of the midday sun felt like it was boiling them alive. There was ...

Day 74 Ruminating And Writing

Malice

This world of ours is made from dust and bones. It’s made of malice and greed. It’s made of all the pain and sorrow. It doesn’t have to be. None of us wants it, yet here they stay, robbing away the happiness that could exist. It’s the twisted thinking that we can’t escape. It’s the cities we build. It’s the systems we feed.

It saddens me to see what we have created at the expense of this wonder that exists by pure chance.

Smile

She sat next to the screen, waving her hand and s...

Day 73 Ruminating And Writing

Melancholy

I was never given a chance for joy. I was born in a country that is a harbor for melancholy. Where utterances of pain and sorrow are real, and the rest is nonsense. But when they laugh, they laugh for real to heal the open wound they had bestowed on themselves at birth. The body still remembers all the dark winters, the starvation, the occupations, the war that tore the country apart to kill each other, and the war that almost destroyed its existence. My body mourns all that. It do...