May 29, 2012

The Silence

Five Sentence Fiction:

You are never truely alone.

Where you stand, the leaves lay like the layered deceased, masses of the seasons massacre upon the damp soil.

The forrest overshadows all, consuming the heavens with such crooked limbs, their ancient bodies standing witness with grave knowing faces.

A ravens challenge echoes across the hollow, sharp and unforgiving, the ominous omen departing this place with a savage movement of its wings.

And then it comes, a terrible suffocating closeness that renders you motionless, a sorrowful statuette captured in the silence as you find yourself truely alone.

until it comes...
Jaq xx

May 23, 2012

No Surprises

Flash Fiction Blogfest by Cherie Reich
Lightning Flashed.

Lightning flashed.  As though vicious devils were being expelled from the crevices of the heavens above.  Scattered energies colliding within a brewing storm, the darkness eclipsing the nervous waters wavering below. Yet this tense scene on the verge of destruction seemed to hold such tranquillity in contrast to the turmoil that raged within my own clouded thoughts.  Desperation cried out as the hysteria pulsed through me like a debilitating poison, there were no options, there was no escape, and my mind whirled endlessly as I sought cover from the hauntingly real consequences trailing after me.

The sky was shattered once more with the booming roar of natures disquiet, echoing against my chest to jolt my racing heart.  The sudden second of illumination hit the shadowed beach like an accusing strobe, exposing the rich colour that stained my hands.  Even the elements looked upon me with disgust.  There were no traces left behind bar the beast like savagery that had dismantled the poor soul.  Their blood was mine to wear, it will not fade.  I will bear the guilt and shame of first blood for a lifetime as it dries upon my flesh like a cursed mark.

The moon cycle had mocked my innocence and thrown me into infamy, forcing a change upon my proud life as it did my form.  Now the night shared my anguish where I collapsed on the shoreline, releasing its deluge to veil the isolated cove.  The demons ignited an uproar of cataclysmic proportions that scorched the earth while the potent bellowing response subdued my disgrace and consciousness as I lay humbled.

the beast awakens,

May 5, 2012


A Picture Says...
There's a row of tiny houses there now...

The wind tunnelled through the empty alleys, spiriting along light articles of debris, quietly shifting down the damp cobbled road into the darkness.  The shadows stretched beyond, gathering courage against the withered light of day.  Not even the golden glow of warmth that radiated from the flames trapped in glass lanterns would diminish the glory of the night as it settled upon the labyrinth of stone.

Still she walked through the silence, the rising chill clutching desperately to her.  The soundless lives of others caught behind their window displays, glazed over by the mist that fell in grief to the watery pools of the gutters.  Movement hiding behind the glass, like the lanterns, she mused.

It was the sun she followed endlessly, always devoted to pass the final farewell as it descended below the skyline to illuminate other worlds.  She reached the height of the path and waited for the light to leave, draining the vibrant open air of the rich dyes that stained its retreat.

the last of the autumn days,
Jaq xx

May 3, 2012

Do You Hear?

The conditional peace offered by isolating silence,
often interupted by total paranoia.

I held my head in my hands with eyes clenched shut in an attempt to remove the exhaustive tasks that were all demanding attention and the feeling of hopelessness that was welling up inside.  The early afternoon sun bloomed in the clear sky, although the warmth had been a welcome respite from the rising chill of the coming winter, it now seemed a mocking contrast to my state of being overwhelmed.  Of course I could still not escape the constant nuances that invaded any peace and only served to sting with annoyance; that unyielding 'tick, tick, tick' of my watch as it voiced its concerns for time provoked me with its impatience.  Irritation building I lifted my weary head to glare at the offending object only to find it absent from sight.  Sweeping my tired eyes across the desk its location appeared undiscoverable.  In fact upon my gaze passing one corner of the room the intrusive noise stopped altogether.

Duly perplexed I felt the stirrings of my thoughts struggling to form a nexus for this strangeness, why did it desist?  A wry smirk suggested it was appropriately seeking refuge from my insurmountable wrath though logically this was not consistent with the usual behaviour of the common wristwatch.  Shifting in my chair to pull a wrap more closely around my exposed shoulders I was distracted by a swift commotion resonating from the opposite side of the house.

A discordant cacophony is a regular occurrence emitted by my colourful neighbours, though this afternoon brought an unexplainable chill.  An inhabitant of the hound variety had loosed its voice with a surprising sense of strangled terror, resonating deeply with my strained nerves.

Before my thoughts were able to adequately process this alarming development an accompanying racket ensued seemingly originating from the other side of my position.  This merely confirmed that there were at least several conspirators focusing their devilish intents upon my preciously frail mind.  Now entirely cloaked within the safety of my wrap I waited in horrified anticipation for the first sighting, all varying possibilities for defense overwhelmed by the instinctual desire to maintain such a stillness as to be undetectable.

The accustomed sparkling of a collective of keys as they slipped through the solid frame of our entrance was the lighting grace that salvaged me from the dreadfull abyss.  Shocked into movement desperate feet carried me through the halls into anothers comforting presence.

It is well known you cannot be harmed when you are not alone.

fight or flight,
Jaq xx

May 2, 2012

Empty Hands

Your love is for a beggar,
Empty hands is all I ever had.

Last month I realised something that I had somehow chosen to ignore; the A to Z Challenge taught me that I cannot just string clever words together on another's whims and expect to create something worth experiencing.  I found I had formed a grudging dislike for a majority of the pieces of flash fiction that I generated for the first half of the challenge.  Torn between my passion for music and the desire to present to the masses what they anticipated, I struggled to produce anything that adequately satisfied both criteria.  I found myself resignedly typing out a new post only to find that after two paragraphs I despised it, currently it lurks in the eternal pit of drafts, its unfinished ending simply 'I hate this.'

And so I took the proverbial step back to refocus and reconnect with my own selfish perceptions, I would regain my objective of writing what I wanted, about ideas that would emerge when journeying or waiting or sleeping and became distorted explanations and prose on a notepad or mobile.

The embodiment of my self centred direction is my WIP, started four fast years ago the only development it has received since then has been the continuous revisions of scenes in my mind.  I made too many excuses, abetted by my ghastly planning abilities it was left, but not abandoned.  When I have time, when I make time, I will sit and write from the start and I will not stop until I have a story.

Art of Sleeping,
from sjp.

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