The Docks

She sat down on the docks, her mind as dejected as the wind blowing her hair away. She hugged herself because of the cold as she shivered. The cold usually didn’t bother her, usually, she rather liked the small drizzle of rain that had no indication of stopping. But today was not a usual day for her.

She shook her head to clear them of straying thoughts and did her best to focus on the dark and decrepit scenery ahead. She’d been on these docks so many times before but never had it seemed so bad.

The day’s events kept popping up in her mind despite her valiant efforts to pretend that didn’t happen. Everything kept replaying like a broken record, highlighting the worst parts. Amidst the rain, a few tears streaked down her face.

When the sun rose, her demeanor didn’t change. But as she looked upon the rainbow in midst of such a dreary day, Em smiled despite herself.

april-pearson


Word Count: 161

Written as a response to Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by the lovely Susan. The challenge is to write a story in less than 200 words with help from the picture prompt above.

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Conflagration #writephoto

She sat, perplexed, confused,

Mostly angry at herself.

Burdened by demonic hindsight,

Torn apart by regret.

 

Staring at the dying sun,

The last embers of the day.

Wishing she could go back,

And change her fate.

 

It’d been sudden, unforeseeable,

Unbearable and taxing.

A fire that’d burned so fast,

Destroying and damaging.

 

She sat, a broken woman,

Losing everything that mattered.

24 hours that’d changed it all,

If only she could turn back time…


Written as a response to Thursday Photo Prompt hosted by the lovely Sue Vincent.

Waiting #writephoto

A little girl watches from behind the curtains as a Pied Piper named Death plays a tune. A silent tune immune to children. The little girl watches as the brand of an inverted torch pulls everyone towards the couple that possesses it. Blood is everywhere, their screams echo throughout. No one remembers afterward, except the girl. She cries alone that night because her parents are no longer there to comfort her.

The girl has grown now. She understands Death’s melody but isn’t affected by it. She was innocent before, too pure. She is corrupt now, too evil.

She sleeps without Death having to sing his lullaby. Sometimes, she looks at people around her, wondering who will make the fatal strike.

Her time comes and she is unprepared. Unprepared for death but prepared for a battle. The God in question would have chuckled at her defiance, but sadly he isn’t around anymore.

As she walked out of the dark corridor, she felt disappointed. Not because of the lack of the fatal blow but because of how ridiculously easy it is to turn the tables around.

It feels like she is having a constant battle with Death’s remaining puppets. It is not even worthy of calling a battle, but she does anyway. A girl can hope, right?

The world is imperfect without Death, as it could give rise to people like her. However, she can’t deny that she and Death are not that different.

Cruel and Evil indeed.

waiting

Written as a response to Thursdayย Photo Prompt over at Sue’s Daily Echo. Check it out here.