Choice

tltweek124

One door leads to paradise, the other to the netherworld. Fiery realms of hell, and eternal peace of heaven. Choose your path clearly, but remember you grow only when you’re faced with difficulty, only when you’re rooted.


Written as a response to Three Line Tales, Week 124. Photo byย Luis Alfonso Orellanaย via Unsplash.

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The broken remains #writephoto

Em moved her eyes around the bare room, her face impassive, her hands clenched tightly. Barest flicker of anger flashed on her face as she spotted the exotic feather on the floor. She picked up the offending item from the floor, fury radiating from her stone cold face.

Everything was so different now, she remarked to herself. Everything was gone and in its place lay the vast emptiness that surrounded her day and night. Reminiscing about the past brought a whole fresh wave upon her. Outwardly, her face remained so still, a mask of indifference, but inside was a whole different story. Raging walls of anger along with a steady stream of thoughts, both violent and loathing.

The echoes of footsteps around her startled her, snapping her out of the rage-filled reverie. In this vast emptiness, it was hard to determine the location and direction of the sound but she’d guessed right. As she gazed into the form of her lifelong friend, the last remnants of the anger left her but the desperation and hurt still remained.

Seeing the all too familiar shudder pass through her friend’s body, Row hastened forward, enveloping Em into an embrace. She held her as her body shook with fury and hurt. She held on tight as the tears started falling along with a cascade of insults. She held on tight as Em sank to the ground, taking her alongside, not letting her go even for a second, holding her tight. She held on, for herself and for Em.

The two women sat like that in the empty house for a long time. Without words, without any exchange, they consoled each other. Being there for the other when they needed the most, combating the emptiness inside and outside with slow warmth and lasting love. And when they got up, their minds were clear, and their hearts even more so. There was only one thing on their minds, there was only one thing left to do, revenge.

The small blue feather, now downtrodden and messy, floated slowly and wistfully as the footsteps echoed in the empty house once again, dimming with each passing second, slowly ceasing into nothingness.

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Yet another action-packed, filled with emotions and little to no dialogue, narrative-esque short. Feels like I’m doing a lot of those recently…

Written as a response to Thursday Photo Prompt- Remains #writephoto, hosted by the lovely Sue.

 

Daily Prompt: Sleeve

She was always smiling, happy to everyone.

He was always sour and unapproachable.

She was adored by many, loved by all.

He watched over their backs constantly.

She was an angel to many who’d met her,

and especially the light of his life.

She was headfast and supportive of him always.

He was just glad she was there.

She tried very hard to fit in,

but there are always hurdles in life.

Slowly, her smiles became strained, her eyes unhappy,

but no one could see it except for him.

She was never perfect despite trying.

To him, she was nothing less, no matter what.

She broke down in secret, showing no weakness.

He became her strength, as she’d been his.

As she cried in darkness hidden from others,

He became her sleeve to cry upon.

 

via Daily Prompt: Sleeve.