Cleave

Bruised from the fall

Able to see the 

Neversummer 

In the shattered sky

Stuck in a world where

Healing arts are lost

Every step drives the broken glass

Deeper into my soul 

 

Doorbell

Death has come to call. 

Ignoring the door will not

Make him go away. 

TwitterShort Challenge 9

 

                Etienne couldn’t believe her ears. Grounded. And for what? Using a can of Raid and a Zippo as a flame thrower to get rid of some wasp nests? Clearly her mother would never understand her genius.

                This could not stand.

                Tonight was the third meeting of the Sage Stick Society. There was no chance she was missing it. She and the founding members were holding initiations tonight. She was expected to be there. No one in the super secret club would ever take her seriously again if she didn’t attend this meeting. 

                Etienne grabbed the broken Bulova pocket watch she picked up at a garage sale for two dollars and the remains of her half eaten chocolate Easter bunny and stuffed them into her backpack. Preparation was important when making a jail break, and rations would be crucial if she made it out. 

                She slowly opened her bedroom door and peered down the hall. She knew her little sister was already fast asleep in the bedroom directly across from hers. Getting to the stairs wouldn’t be a problem.  

                She slipped down the hall in her stocking feet and scampered down the stairs. Her parents were in the family room watching Paula Deen toss something around in an oversized salad bowl. Perfect. They were completely distracted by the TV.

                Etienne scuttled past the family room and into the main foyer. She caught her breath as the marble bust of Benjamin Franklin that rested on the corner of the piano seemed to stare her down all the way to the front door. No matter. Freedom was feet away.

                She ever so slowly turned the knob to the front door and pulled.

                There on the front porch was her little sister. 

                “MOOOOOOOOOOM!” Joni screamed.  “I TOLD YOU SHE WOULD TRY TO ESCAPE!!”

                Etienne gave Joni the death glare. 

                “Oh, Mother. This battle is yours. But the war shall be mine,” she vowed with clenched teeth as Mother grabbed her wrist and hauled her back to bed.

 

Exhaustion

It's not just a fork

In the road

It's the hundred forks before it

It's the blistered feet

And the soleless shoes 

It's the sunburnt skin

And the rain drenched clothes

It's the fear 

That if you stop to breathe 

You'll die

All The Degrees

The cry of a soul

As the sun burns 

And scalpels flay

And scraps are tossed 

To hungry wolves

The crush of a thousand truths

That finding each piece 

Seems impossible

Until

A pin prick of light 

And a whisper of promise

Makes it shift

The cry becomes 

One of joy instead 

The Coming Winter

***Author's note: The following is an original piece submitted for Anna Meade's Midsummer Night's Dream Writing Contest. Be sure to click the link and see what other fantastic stories await!***

                I awoke with a kiss. Strange. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.

                And yet there she was. Gigging like a bubbling brook.

                The fayr stood a handful of steps away from me. Her oversized hands covered much of her face, leaving just the twinkling blue of her eyes exposed. Her rich blonde curls bounced as she laughed. The wrap dress was torn and dirty, but her skin looked like honeyed cream.

                I shook my head to clear the daydreams away. My mane tossed about as I stretched my wings and put hoof to ground. Since I was only a yearling Pegasus, we stood nearly eye to eye, she and me.

                “I found you!” She squealed. “Let’s play! Follow me!” She took off skipping down a foot path that trailed to the lake. The scent of the blue bonnets and lavenders begged me to follow her.

                I shook my tail and set off bounding behind her, determined to return the tag she’d placed on me. We tagged back and forth until we reached the lake. Playing made me thirsty, and the water was clear and inviting. I drank deeply until I felt the violent pain of something piercing my lung and driving into my heart. My last vision was of the peaceful lake, and my ears rung with her childish laughter.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                “You promised me the wings, Atcheton.”

                “That I did, wicked fayr,” the troll said with disdain. He hated making bargains with lesser beings. But the summer had been a hot one, and his crops burned in the unrelenting sun. Winter would be hard if food couldn’t be secured. “Next time bring me a bigger one. The yearling are tender, but there’s barely enough meat for two days.”

                The Fayr smiled innocently and gathered her treasure, eager to attach them to her dirty dress. “That will cost you more than just some wings, Troll.”



 

Afraid

Poor little dove 

Caught in the hunter's net

Wings beat unto exhaustion 

Starved and lonely

Too tired to cry

To watch it die would be a shame

And yet to save it invites it's bite

A choice to be made 

And the countdown starts

Because a split second

May make the difference