Writing Challenge - Days 4 & 5
To all who are reading this,
You will notice that today is a blog post with a difference. We have two pieces of flash fiction from the Writing Challenge today, since I was unable to post last night.
I went to see Maleficent (2014) at the cinema with my mum last night, and it was an amazing film! I'm hoping to do a review of it shortly, but I will have to see how the rest of my blogging duties go.
So... Here are the stories!
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 4. - BONES
"Will you just leave me alone, already?"
"Oh come on, Em! Let's just head back home and talk about this!"
"Does it look like I want to talk about this! Just... Just... Go away!"
Emma's scream ripped apart the air, as she clapped her hands over her ears. Turning on her booted heel, she stormed off the pathway. She picked up the pace as she moved through the woodlands. She knew he would follow. He was determined, and dogged her steps. Yet, Dominic's voice was the last thing she wanted to hear right now.
How could he dump something like this on her and expect her to be okay with it? They were a couple, they were supposed to make these sorts of decisions together. Not do things like this behind each others backs. What gave him the right to book himself a plane ticket out to Spain? How long had his suitcase been packed for? How did he think she felt?
They had spent a long summer day together - a picnic and walking aimlessly. It had been perfect - her favourite foods and he had even poured a white wine into two plastic wine glasses. Then he took her hands in his, and for one wild moment Emma thought, This is it. He's going to propose. She was mentally preparing herself to say, "Yes!" The last thing she had expected to hear was, "I'm travelling out to Spain. I'm working the season in a bar on the Benidorm beachfront. I leave in a few days, and I'm staying with Dave, at his family's timeshare."
At first, she had wanted to hear everything - all the details that had led up to his decision. Was he escaping from her? Was he seeing someone else? Was it work, or had he got himself involved in a dodgy deal like his cousin had the other year? Yet the more she got herself worked up about it, the more she realised she didn't. What if it was sordid?
Emma had been so lost in her thoughts of Dominic and his futuristic plans that she didn't see where she was going. As she cut through a bush, she caught her ankle on an upturned tree root, and with a thud, she hit the ground. Dirt sprayed up her jacket and jeans. The skin on her hands was scraped red raw, whilst her ankle throbbed wildly. She bit her lip as tears sprang to her eyes.
"Dom!" she wailed. Then louder, "Dom!"
"Em! Em, what's happened?" He was beside her in seconds - she had been right in the assumption that he had followed her. He held her shoulder tight, and helped to turn her onto her back, every movement painful. "Are you okay? Oh God! What did you fall on?"
The pain was unbearable, and she could barely speak. Instead, she raised her hand and pointed to the offensive shrub.
"What an ugly shaped root!" Dom was halfway inside the shrub now, pushing aside the leaves and tiny thin branches. He stretched out a hand, and tried to push the root back into the earth, but it didn't budge, and the dirt seemed to slide along its surface. He was studying it with an intense curiosity that Emma didn't like.
"Dom..." Emma's ankle was already swelling. She could have done anything to it. It could be sprained, or fractured or even, God forbid, broken, and here he was - more interested in roots and jetting off to some hot holiday destination. "Dom, can you just come back here already? I need your help."
"Em, you need to call an ambulance. And get the police too. We're going to need them."
"And pray tell, why do we need the - argh - police?" she asked, trying to get her mobile phone out of her pocket, but the way she was angled made it hard work. Every part of her hurt - emotionally, physically, externally and internally.
"Just look."
Emma did as he said. And then she found herself screaming hysterically, for it was not a root, that she had stumbled and fallen over. No, it a very human looking bone, and it was protruding from the earth. Dom's hands were dirty, and there was sick on the sides of his mouth. Flesh was rotting away from the offensive bone, and there were even the remains of a pair of trousers.
Emma was very aware that they were sitting on top of what could be a potential crime scene, but she wasn't bothered about that. She was very sure that if the police came they would want to investigate, and he wouldn't be able to leave the country for his precious holiday work.
That bone could be the answer to the very problems that lay before her.
© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 5. - HEART
The room that Annalise was kept in was hardly what anyone would call shabby. In fact, it was befitting of royalty. Lush thick drapes were hung at the windows, and there was a cushioned window seat from where she would sit and draw, or read, or write. When the night rolled in, she drew the drapes and they shut out the world. She would light golden candelabras, and snuff them out when yawns escaped her mouth. Hand woven tapestries adorned every inch of stone wall. Whilst the flagstones were cold on her feet, in the center of the room there was an oval carpet, depicting the rise of the sun and it's eventual setting, turning into the moon. A large fireplace was never lit, and there were splendid baskets full of logs and coal lumps, and various shaped pokers. Wooden cabinets had been erected, holding dusty books, hair and jewelery accessories. A wardrobe was almost bursting open with the array of dresses, flowing tunics, riding trousers, shifts, underclothes, and capes. Shoes of every variety and colour were arranged artfully. The four poster bed had deep purple hanging drapes, and the bed sheets were made of silk and velvet.
From her window, she could see rolling hills and fields where farmers grew and harvested their crops. To the far left, there were fast running rivers that merged into a large lake where fish and amphibians lived and thrived. In the distance to the right, lay a small village, and beyond that there would be bustling towns and cities where royalty ruled. For Annalise, who had been named for the Goddess of Grace, had been a simple peasant girl, and could only dream of what the world beyond this castle was like. She would observe the comings and goings of the castle from her window, but shy away when others looked towards her. She was sure that rumours flew to the village about the mysterious young lady who lived with the Master, and was never seen or heard.
Annalise was given three square meals a day. Fruits, vegetables, eggs, breads, cheeses, meats, fish. Water, wines, mead, fresh juice squeezed from any fruit that was left over. She was in no danger of being starved. She was escorted every morning, lunch, and suppertime, by the stony faced palace guards to the dining room, where she sat at the other end of the table from the Master of the Castle. They ate in silence. When they had finished, Annalise curtsied to the best of her ability, and thanked him for his kindness. The Master of the Castle would nod and the guards would escort her back.
Every night when the full moon rose, the Master of the Castle would sit at the head of the table. His entire body would erupt in hoarse black fur, whilst his fine clothes tore, and fell in strips at the bottom of the chair. His face lengthened and his teeth were long and became slightly yellowed, almost as if he had aged suddenly. His eyes would be large and almost glow with their clear blue colour. And yet, Annalise would never flinch. She would be asked to wear a dress of purity, and each full moon, she would wear a pearly silk dress that fell over her curves. Her hair would be swept up to the top of her head, her curls falling down her neck, and the rest would be kept upright with opal hair pins. There would be no silver chains or rings on her, and she would wear heeled shoes, with ornate gems on the toes.
The meal would go ahead. The main meal would be meaty, and a little bit bloody. It was not to Annalise's tastes, but she chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with a gulp of wine and hoped that he wouldn't notice. Servants would serve each course and refill their glasses, until the end of the meal. Annalise would stand on ceremony, curtsying as normal. As she rose, the Master of the Castle would stand and bow back. He would walk the length of the table, and press his muzzle to the top of her right hand. Annalise would hold back her shivers. Then the Master would sink onto one knee, still holding onto her.
"Will you give me the honour of becoming my lady wife, and giving me your heart?" he would ask.
And every full moon, Annalise would give the same answer, "No." For she could never give her heart to a werewolf.
© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
Currently reading: Rebel Springs by Morgan Rhodes
You will notice that today is a blog post with a difference. We have two pieces of flash fiction from the Writing Challenge today, since I was unable to post last night.
I went to see Maleficent (2014) at the cinema with my mum last night, and it was an amazing film! I'm hoping to do a review of it shortly, but I will have to see how the rest of my blogging duties go.
So... Here are the stories!
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 4. - BONES
"Will you just leave me alone, already?"
"Oh come on, Em! Let's just head back home and talk about this!"
"Does it look like I want to talk about this! Just... Just... Go away!"
Emma's scream ripped apart the air, as she clapped her hands over her ears. Turning on her booted heel, she stormed off the pathway. She picked up the pace as she moved through the woodlands. She knew he would follow. He was determined, and dogged her steps. Yet, Dominic's voice was the last thing she wanted to hear right now.
How could he dump something like this on her and expect her to be okay with it? They were a couple, they were supposed to make these sorts of decisions together. Not do things like this behind each others backs. What gave him the right to book himself a plane ticket out to Spain? How long had his suitcase been packed for? How did he think she felt?
They had spent a long summer day together - a picnic and walking aimlessly. It had been perfect - her favourite foods and he had even poured a white wine into two plastic wine glasses. Then he took her hands in his, and for one wild moment Emma thought, This is it. He's going to propose. She was mentally preparing herself to say, "Yes!" The last thing she had expected to hear was, "I'm travelling out to Spain. I'm working the season in a bar on the Benidorm beachfront. I leave in a few days, and I'm staying with Dave, at his family's timeshare."
At first, she had wanted to hear everything - all the details that had led up to his decision. Was he escaping from her? Was he seeing someone else? Was it work, or had he got himself involved in a dodgy deal like his cousin had the other year? Yet the more she got herself worked up about it, the more she realised she didn't. What if it was sordid?
Emma had been so lost in her thoughts of Dominic and his futuristic plans that she didn't see where she was going. As she cut through a bush, she caught her ankle on an upturned tree root, and with a thud, she hit the ground. Dirt sprayed up her jacket and jeans. The skin on her hands was scraped red raw, whilst her ankle throbbed wildly. She bit her lip as tears sprang to her eyes.
"Dom!" she wailed. Then louder, "Dom!"
"Em! Em, what's happened?" He was beside her in seconds - she had been right in the assumption that he had followed her. He held her shoulder tight, and helped to turn her onto her back, every movement painful. "Are you okay? Oh God! What did you fall on?"
The pain was unbearable, and she could barely speak. Instead, she raised her hand and pointed to the offensive shrub.
"What an ugly shaped root!" Dom was halfway inside the shrub now, pushing aside the leaves and tiny thin branches. He stretched out a hand, and tried to push the root back into the earth, but it didn't budge, and the dirt seemed to slide along its surface. He was studying it with an intense curiosity that Emma didn't like.
"Dom..." Emma's ankle was already swelling. She could have done anything to it. It could be sprained, or fractured or even, God forbid, broken, and here he was - more interested in roots and jetting off to some hot holiday destination. "Dom, can you just come back here already? I need your help."
"Em, you need to call an ambulance. And get the police too. We're going to need them."
"And pray tell, why do we need the - argh - police?" she asked, trying to get her mobile phone out of her pocket, but the way she was angled made it hard work. Every part of her hurt - emotionally, physically, externally and internally.
"Just look."
Emma did as he said. And then she found herself screaming hysterically, for it was not a root, that she had stumbled and fallen over. No, it a very human looking bone, and it was protruding from the earth. Dom's hands were dirty, and there was sick on the sides of his mouth. Flesh was rotting away from the offensive bone, and there were even the remains of a pair of trousers.
Emma was very aware that they were sitting on top of what could be a potential crime scene, but she wasn't bothered about that. She was very sure that if the police came they would want to investigate, and he wouldn't be able to leave the country for his precious holiday work.
That bone could be the answer to the very problems that lay before her.
© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 5. - HEART
The room that Annalise was kept in was hardly what anyone would call shabby. In fact, it was befitting of royalty. Lush thick drapes were hung at the windows, and there was a cushioned window seat from where she would sit and draw, or read, or write. When the night rolled in, she drew the drapes and they shut out the world. She would light golden candelabras, and snuff them out when yawns escaped her mouth. Hand woven tapestries adorned every inch of stone wall. Whilst the flagstones were cold on her feet, in the center of the room there was an oval carpet, depicting the rise of the sun and it's eventual setting, turning into the moon. A large fireplace was never lit, and there were splendid baskets full of logs and coal lumps, and various shaped pokers. Wooden cabinets had been erected, holding dusty books, hair and jewelery accessories. A wardrobe was almost bursting open with the array of dresses, flowing tunics, riding trousers, shifts, underclothes, and capes. Shoes of every variety and colour were arranged artfully. The four poster bed had deep purple hanging drapes, and the bed sheets were made of silk and velvet.
From her window, she could see rolling hills and fields where farmers grew and harvested their crops. To the far left, there were fast running rivers that merged into a large lake where fish and amphibians lived and thrived. In the distance to the right, lay a small village, and beyond that there would be bustling towns and cities where royalty ruled. For Annalise, who had been named for the Goddess of Grace, had been a simple peasant girl, and could only dream of what the world beyond this castle was like. She would observe the comings and goings of the castle from her window, but shy away when others looked towards her. She was sure that rumours flew to the village about the mysterious young lady who lived with the Master, and was never seen or heard.
Annalise was given three square meals a day. Fruits, vegetables, eggs, breads, cheeses, meats, fish. Water, wines, mead, fresh juice squeezed from any fruit that was left over. She was in no danger of being starved. She was escorted every morning, lunch, and suppertime, by the stony faced palace guards to the dining room, where she sat at the other end of the table from the Master of the Castle. They ate in silence. When they had finished, Annalise curtsied to the best of her ability, and thanked him for his kindness. The Master of the Castle would nod and the guards would escort her back.
Every night when the full moon rose, the Master of the Castle would sit at the head of the table. His entire body would erupt in hoarse black fur, whilst his fine clothes tore, and fell in strips at the bottom of the chair. His face lengthened and his teeth were long and became slightly yellowed, almost as if he had aged suddenly. His eyes would be large and almost glow with their clear blue colour. And yet, Annalise would never flinch. She would be asked to wear a dress of purity, and each full moon, she would wear a pearly silk dress that fell over her curves. Her hair would be swept up to the top of her head, her curls falling down her neck, and the rest would be kept upright with opal hair pins. There would be no silver chains or rings on her, and she would wear heeled shoes, with ornate gems on the toes.
The meal would go ahead. The main meal would be meaty, and a little bit bloody. It was not to Annalise's tastes, but she chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with a gulp of wine and hoped that he wouldn't notice. Servants would serve each course and refill their glasses, until the end of the meal. Annalise would stand on ceremony, curtsying as normal. As she rose, the Master of the Castle would stand and bow back. He would walk the length of the table, and press his muzzle to the top of her right hand. Annalise would hold back her shivers. Then the Master would sink onto one knee, still holding onto her.
"Will you give me the honour of becoming my lady wife, and giving me your heart?" he would ask.
And every full moon, Annalise would give the same answer, "No." For she could never give her heart to a werewolf.
© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
Currently reading: Rebel Springs by Morgan Rhodes
No comments have been added yet.
