K.A. Ashcomb's Blog, page 4

Day 180 Writing Short Stories

Fruitless

This day is fruitless. No words of wisdom. No words for stories. Only a little chaos inside my head. Chaos that had sneaked into this house of mine. In my fridge. On my desk. In the heart of mine.

Sailor

The storm rolled over the sea, lifting the waves against the schooner, swallowing it whole and spitting it out against the rocks, tattered to bones.

Bodies floated next to the shore, welcoming in the sharks. Their fins cut the water in half. He watched them eat his shipmate...

Day 179 Writing Short Stories

Pretty

The fog swirled over the city, hiding away the sins of the residents. No one spoke. They just waited for the weary night to be over. They were huddled in their homes, feeling the terror move through their city.

She smiled at the empty streets. She saw people looking at her through their windows.

Pretty, she heard whispered, and then the speaker was pinned down.

They knew that there was always a price to pay for the city to prosper. That was the deal. She would have her picking...

Day 170 Writing Short Things

Crop

If I close my eyes, I know it is possible to swim in the golden crops swaying in the summer air. It is divine.

Cherry Tree

The night air was warm even when the stars sparkled brightly high above. He snuggled comfortably against the cherry tree and watched the shooting stars moving past the constellations. The Orion’s Belt shone exceptionally bright tonight. He closed his eyes for a second to listen to the distant chirping of crickets. Their chorus became his nighttime concert, and ...

Day 169 Writing Short Things

Shore

The darker the rocks, the deeper the ocean, most likely it lies there. So the stories went. The moon shone bright against the black water, rocking gently against the shore. She stepped back from the cold water rolling in.

The night was unnaturally quiet. There were no hoots. No, nothing to tell her that the world around her existed. There was only one purpose. Only the spell on her lips.

She knelt on the dark rocky shoreline, taking a chalk out of her satchel. She began drawing th...

Day 168 Writing Short Things

Headless

The row of headless statues towered next to them as they made their way through the abandoned old castle. Spider webs snaked around the statues, and the occasional floorboard creak made her steal a glance towards the statues to see if they had moved. The place was creepy, and she shouldn’t have let them talk her into breaking into the castle with them.

She was sure that there was more than ghosts living there. She could imagine an old vampire watching them make their way through h...

Day 167 Writing Short Things

Raven

The majestic creature of the sky in the darkest hour. She heard the caws in the distance and knew what they meant. A few more and there would be death in this witching hour. This was her forest. This was her hour. And she wouldn’t let the ravens take another soul. She pushed through the brush to a clearing where the ravens had found their target. It was a little girl. Not older than seven or eight.

She wondered why the god wanted her dead.

“Mine!” she screamed, and the ravens scat...

Day 166 Writing Short Things

Rove

The restlessness of mind roving through every word, every thought, clutching onto them like rafts in the darkness.

Cat

She was her universe. Her everything. The soft meow, the paw in the right place, and she was on her mercy. She was the star, the queen of the universe. She was a cat, and she her owner. She was the reason to stay still.

Fast-Food Joint

His downfall, his hatred, his lies, all in him and not the fault of his. The money was to be made. The investors had to be ke...

Day 165 Writing Short Stories

Rise

Like a wave, it rose inside her, bubbling out like rotten meat marinated in the sun. The words spewed out, took a form of their own, sluggishly stalking their target, making its heart bleed. She clasped her hands over her mouth, but there was another croak, and another thing came to life, searching their target to tear into and rip apart. The hate and anger, the pettiness, the jealousy, the fear all nestled inside her, stifling out any hope, any love. Just wants and needs morphed into na...

Day 164 Writing Short Stories

Misery

“Misery will follow you,” she heard the words echo in her head. “It will seep into you and consume you.”

And she had thought fortunes were meant to be happy. The hag should have said that a dark, handsome prince was waiting for her, and it would be love at first sight. But no, the woman had said she would be dead by the end of the month. She had dismissed the words at first, but then things had started to turn bad. She had lost her job and her friends, had become clumsier, and misfo...

Day 163 Writing Short Stories

Brother

The sun colored the landscape behind the thick clouds to glow orange-red. They had been riding for days to get here, in hopes there was still some life left. There wasn’t. It was yet another city bombed into ruins. His brother sat on his motorcycle, clutching his gun, watching the city open underneath them.

The roads ahead were blocked by the abandoned cars and fallen rubbish. The buildings were bombed almost to the ground. Here and there might be safe spaces. The only way to find ...