Salvage

Flight of Fancy

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The constant chorus of howling souls, calling out their misery to a keening ocean of loss, a rising pitch as the ship would crest the contemptuous sea to once again fall at the mercy of the tides.

A soundless cry burst from parched lips as the foaming waves crashed over her; cold water shocking her into awake-fullness as it relentlessly sought her out, flooding through the cracks to greedily claim her cramped space.

Thumping desperately at the velvet lined prison until the antique locks tore open she filled her lungs with salty air.  Blinking painfully against the harsh sun she stumbled from the leather box, gazing across the abandoned shore littered with empty luggage.

Shivering in the coastal breeze she stared closely at the forsaken cases, a rising sense of fear washing over her as she spun around, frantically tracing the soft imprints in the sand fading beneath the oceans tide.

What were the others?

shipwrecked,

from sjp

Have a taste of moonshine

Anabelle

Visual Dare #19

Mirror

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The fresh tide dragged at his heels, cold rivulets snaking down his arms as he desperately hefted the splintering frame from the sodden shore.  The reflection of his image in the untouched glass strangled his heart with such grief as he stared into haggard eyes, wild with desperation and infected with hope.

Wait for me inside okay sweetheart?  I’ll come get you when it’s safe…

His throat burned at the memory, of his naivety that cost him everything, at what he would sacrifice to see those beautiful blue eyes staring back at him once again.  Leaning his forehead against the glass, he pictured her face surrounded by the beauty of the isles, unable to withhold the tears that rolled down its surface.

My dearest Anabelle.

A tremor echoed through the wood, humming beneath his fingertips as clouds darkened the mirrored horizon.  His reflection had faded, the glass fogging along the lines of his despair until a small hand print became visible.

word count: 161

All is not lost,

from sjp

Tunes

The Oil Slick - Frightened Rabbit

Standby

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I lost Jaq.

I haven't heard from those characters I was once so close too in almost a month.  Feels like more.

I'm not worried.  Or confident.

I'm just enjoying a new road and taking things as they come.

A new chapter has consumed my life, as they tend to do, and there is much less flexibility afforded to space out and traipse through day dreams lit by inspiration.

But this is life, and I am beginning to value weekends much more highly.

Especially Sundays.  Particularly night.

So to any concerned citizens, lynch mobs, or entirely disinterested parties I am sending a much overdue notice for morale.

I will find her again.

I will strive to explore every new band, fill my mind with sound, continue to conquer the revelations of photography, every evocative composure of imagination until she cant help but follow the story.

Because there are just too many amazing things waiting to inspire.

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we will return,

from sjp.

Tunes:

Late March, Death March /

Swim Until You Can't See Land - Frightened Rabbit

Keeping Up

Insecure Writers Support Group

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The other month, a friend and confidant of mine mentioned I might have a problem.  Obviously I denied it, I didn't want it to be true, but I cannot help but see her point.

The gist of it was that although I have some really great ideas, I seem to be getting distracted by a new exciting idea before I actually start developing it properly.

And as I had been in the middle of explaining my latest exciting idea, a small part of me realised she was right.

Which made me a little... sad?  Because I hate that feeling, when you look back on that great new idea you started and wonder where all the excitement went.  When did it stop consuming all your thought?  The world is there, the premise, the characters, you even know bits of the plot.

So where did the urgency go?

The initial rush may have dissipated somewhat, but I still love my ideas, and for me multitasking works.  I never have to force myself to write for a story I'm not feeling at that moment.  I write for the ones that have my attention.

They all get a little love :)

Jaq xx

Doubt

Visual Dare #13

Atmospheric

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The presence of the fog sent chills down his spine as he waded between the pylons, flinching as the rotten wood flaked away at his touch.  His heart had not paused from its frantic beat since he first entered the calm mist; waiting for it to rise and consume him like it had so many before, ready to vanish at the slightest disturbance.  Yet a small part ignored the terror of what he was trying to do, and revelled in the salty foam that swirled around him, splashing at his waist.  He could almost feel its icy cold caress, taste the salt as it coated his skin, and wished to sit above, leaning out from the bridge to gaze across an ocean broiling with colour and life.  Instead he gripped the next post and pushed on; praying he was right and the other side held more than just death.

word count: 150

ghost boy,

Jaq xx