She was magic

She was magic,

all spells and love.

But if provoked,

all curses and thereof.

 

She was beauty,

the prettiest flower.

Gentle and caring,

every day, every hour.

 

She was love,

pure and caring.

But still angry,

when he had it coming.

 

She was the world,

to him and perhaps more.

So drawn was he,

that he forgot she had flaws.

 

She was normal,

except to his twisted views.

She loved him,

so tried to break through.

 

She was determined,

to help him any way she could.

Multiple arguments,

that lead up to nothing good.

 

She was gone,

no one to blame but him.

His life shattered,

everything inside him dim.

 

He was alone,

everything his making.

A love pure,

yet absolutely wrecking.

 

She was an idea,

perfection in a nutshell.

But reality is rarely

covered in pastel.

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Everybody has flaws, no one is perfect and to see them as such is not doing them any justice.

A response to She was magic, part of July Photo Prompt, hosted by the lovely M.

 

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Splash

Em was bored. Her parents were off doing boring adult stuff and she was stuck watching her brother. She glared at the little kid, who in turn bared his teeth. Remembering the countless bites she’d experienced, she looked away.

There were other children nearby, in a similar predicament as theirs. But one look was enough to turn Em away from them. She wasn’t nearly as girlish to join the other girls, who seemed busy checking for lice or attempting elegant hairdos, nor was she interested in the snot-nosed brats.

One glance away was all it took. A sudden splash was heard and to her panic, her brother had decided that swimming in the fountain was a good idea.

She rushed forward, grabbing her brother by his arms tightly and instructing the other kids to call the parents. She grabbed and did not let go. She held, panicked until their parents arrived.

Many teary apologies and panics later, they got him out. And all that remained about this incident was an embarrassing story to tell.

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Word Count: 174

Written as a response to Flash fiction for aspiring writers prompt 169, hosted by Priceless Joy, photo copyright wildverbs. To read other stories inspired by this prompt click here.

Flamingo

Stephanie glared at the plastic flamingos outside the mall in disdain. They looked so awkward. She glanced at her watch again, sighing deeply. He should have arrived already. The gall of him, making her come here and arriving late himself. The flamingoes obviously got the brunt of her anger.

She smiled as the music began. Her favorite song, no their favorite song was playing. The memories started to flood her mind. Looking around, she smiled even more fondly. This place had held so many moments for her.

So entranced was she at the song and the past along with that she did not even notice him walking towards her. When she did, she took a double take. He was wearing a suit and looking ruggedly handsome at that too.

He slowly walked towards her, with that coy smile adorning his face. When sufficiently close, he dropped down to his knees, and to her utter amazement and shock proffered a ring towards her.

“Steph I…”

“Yes, Yes. A thousand times yes.” She shouted, not letting him get any words out. ‘

One full hour and many professions of love later, they exited the mall. Suddenly the flamingos did not look half bad.

Word Count: 200

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Written as a response to Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by Susan. To read other answers to this prompt click here.

 

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.

 

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.

Daily Prompt: Assumption

A smile that doesn’t reach the eyes,

a laugh that is all too fake.

The small shake of a hand,

subtle hints that tell all.

 

A small, warm, welcoming smile.

A little here, a little there.

One genuine compliment is enough,

to make someone’s day.

 

Assuming you know better

when you have no idea.

Seeing things that aren’t there,

a mountain out of a molehill.

 

But is assumption really that bad,

when it helps people you care?


via Daily Prompt: Assumption

Spring #writephoto

Em walked down the avenue, the fresh leaves of the spring bringing a small smile to her lips. The green leaves, the soft chirps of the birds around her was bringing a newfound joy within her. The spring did great work to rejuvenate her spirits, to ease her body. She enjoyed the sight as she hadn’t before. She felt her burdens washed away as she enjoyed the small stroll, something that was very uncommon to the usual habits of the young woman.

The past few days had been hard to her. She’d shut herself in, shut the blinds firmly, and completely unresponsive to the outside world’s beauty, wallowed in sorrow. There was no great event in bringing this, there were no sudden changes in her life. Frankly put, she had no reason for the sudden bout of sadness she felt. She’d wallowed in self-despair, hating herself more and more each day, and hating herself for that very thing. It was a vicious circle, and it grew more and more each day.

There were many things contributing to this, she knew them and ever so often took steps in rectifying them. But all was in vain, as she stopped every time. She stopped and then again cursed herself for it, she always did. She always wanted to change, but she never did. And despite knowing that, she always tried again.

She was always full of excuses, she knew that. She had become very good at lying, and especially to herself. It was a bad habit, she knew that and especially because it came back to bite her every time. Yet she never stopped, she just lied and promised herself that it would one day. That day was far coming, and she knew that. Yet, she did nothing.

She shook her head as she sat down in one of the park benches. It’d do her no good to think these thoughts again. All it would serve to do was to bring back the previous feeling of despair, and she did not want that, especially not now. Instead, she concentrated on the pleasant sight before her, taking in the sweet aroma of the spring as she settled down on the warm bench.

She looked at the green leaves, a striking change from the bare winter only months before, a welcoming change and smiled. She smiled at nature’s ability to go from the dread winter to the cheery and pleasant spring. She smiled at the birds, her body filled in warmth from their song. She smiled at the cool wind, providing cool to counter the pleasant warmth of the sun. She smiled at nature, and at herself.

Today was a new day, and she vowed to make it better than yesterday. After all, the harshest winter makes way for the loveliest spring.

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Written as a response to  Thursday Photo Prompt, hosted by the lovely Sue over at Sue’s Daily Echo.

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.

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 Thursday Photo Prompt over at Sue’s Daily Echo. Check it out here.