I sprinted across the sunshine meadow. The breeze lifted my hair. The trees danced all around me. I came to a wall and decided to climb it. I wondered what was on the other side. I could hear giggling. The sweetest voice in the world was singing, ‘What a glorious day.’ I peeped over the other side. There was a man there, the height of a gnome. His 400 year old face looked down at me. He stared into my bright blue eyes. His forehead creased and his lips pierced together. In a moment his soft, pale hands grabbed my skinny arm, and pulled me over. I was falling, the song faded. I could hear his real laugh coming out. The wind pummelled against my frail, ruby cheeks. I stopped mid-air. Frozen. I now heard screaming. Ice surrounded me. The gnome had gone.
Archive for September, 2011
Fantasy opening:
Thursday, September 22nd, 2011Horror Opening:
Thursday, September 22nd, 2011Releasing a breath I didn’t even know I had been holding, I plunged the dagger into her chest. Blood spilled out. She fell to the ground below her. My heart was pounding. My head was spinning. I started running. I stumbled over. My head hit the concrete. My cheek ripped open. I staggered into a run. I was sprinting. I felt like something was watching me and for a split second. I heard something move beside me. A rustle from the trees broke the silence, although barely audible. I spun around. Her body merged towards me. A pool of blood surrounded her. Her week, fragile had reached out and touched my cold, blood stained cheek. She smiled. Her eyes pierced right through me. I fell to the ground.
The world of the dead:
Thursday, September 22nd, 2011Baby blue paint peeled away from the wet, rotting wood in desperation to part away from its damp, gloomy surface. The smell of burnt ashes lingered in the air. Steam from a young girls fragile breath pressed against the old, weak window, and the thin, moth-eaten curtain draped down just behind it. Brown, weary eyes, slotted into a stone cold face that was white as snow. An empty soul slowly dying out. Everything inside was trapped by a piece of stronger wood, blocking insiders from the world outside. A lifeless naked tree drooped towards the crumbling concrete below. Phantom listeners cowered away into the darkness although their whispers barely audible.
Lying on the dusty window sill were small rusty tins left to die. Plant pots stood tall as the only thing with colour left in them. Everything else was completely dull. Their life and colour had been drained from them. It was a still place, a quiet place, but if you dare stay there too long you may think differently…