Posted in flash fiction, stream of consciousness

I Was

This is an actual stream of conciousness type write. With inspiration also drawn from the photo for Fandango’s flash fiction challenge.
Music: All Them Witches – Lost and Found EP (can be found here on youtube if interested)

Victoria_Borodinova at Pixabay

When I was a kid I liked to imagine my life somewhere exotic, in times and places far away.

I was Esmeralda, dancing in the hot breeze. I was Ariel, venturing beyond the realm of known. I was a power ranger, saving the world one swipe and swoosh at a time. 

I was anything and everything: a paper bag carrying Superman’s groceries; a walking stick leading a great adventure. 

I was taught, and well it seems, that I was only an accessory. 

I was a compliment and a burden. 

I was helpless when all I wanted was to be a hero. 

I was worthless, a string of fake pearls snatched from Ms. Scarlett’s neck. 

I was scattered, a faded news piece, irrelevant before my ink dried. 

But all I dreamed was of being a hero, of saving the world one crisis at a time. 

And maybe on the weekends I could still be Esmeralda, dancing under the moon.

Posted in flash fiction, Word Prompt

Every Day is the Same

I’d heard of the yellow brick road. I saw The Wizard of Oz when it first came out. I never thought I’d find myself standing here. The bricks aren’t yellow, more of a grey, and the air hangs heavy and full of electricity.

Trees aren’t the same. They’re monstrous and dead. Orbs of fruitful memories drop to land. They scatter, running from the light, but I catch a few. And what delight! They’re flexible and sticky. They play back cherished memories.

But what of the ones that run? They roll from the path, away from the sun, into the trees, obscured by dead leaves.

I chase them down, determined to know.

What is it these scared orbs hold?

In the darkness they reveal things unknown. Small strings which take hold. They pull me farther, abandoning the path, as they trap me under a forest wrath.

These memories aren’t cherished. Forgotten and unloved, they demand immediate resolve. I find one after the other, a path none should take.

I abandon handfuls of the light and cling to the dark. They pull at my strings, they break my heart.

Then I jerk awake, just an old woman in a bed. Little memory of the dreams I’ve had. Nothing rushes back, nothing remains. It’s just me and a window and brick wall company.

Every day is the same.

RDP Prompt: Memory Lane – FOWC: Daily

Posted in stream of consciousness

Ash

Is this what becomes of us?

Today freezing rain
Tomorrow a summer breeze

Wind blows along the stream
Rustling thickets
Driving rain

I exist at the funeral
But I float above
Searching
For the right combination
The moment you walked away

I try to redirect you
With empty threats
And promises of gold

As with most things
I fail

RDP: Ash

Posted in stream of consciousness

All For Show

There’s something here.

I can feel it seething just below

Writhing and hissing and trying to throw me off

Passing fear is replaced with adrenaline

I grab handfuls of smoke

But it curls between my knuckles

Escaping into the void

I know it’s not vicious

Those gnashing jaws and underbelly growls

It’s all for show

Posted in stream of consciousness

These Things

I haven’t done one of these in a long time. A timed stream of conciousness write (5 minutes instead of 10).
Brought to you by various RDP prompts: Bravery, Embellish, Vast

What bravery it takes

To let yourself drown

Knowing you’ll never reach

A hand for help

But these things happen

They’ll say

These things, they’re inevitable

They’ll pray

Over dead water

And let everyone know

These things

They happen

Like falling in love

Or flippant disregard

You can’t control it

They’ll say

We never saw it

They’ll pray

These things

They happen.

Posted in stream of consciousness

Unswayed

They gave me one wish.

I didn’t have to think at all.

I leaned in to the candles and blew

Sending my wish flying

Out the window

Into the sky

Where I have no doubt

It popped.

It tumbled to the ground

Landing at your feet

As no more than a whisper

For you to care

It nestled into you

Carving space in your soul

A silent uprising

An unsettled toll

Still you moved on

Unswayed by the thought

And in my dreams

You stop.

Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

Jagged Edges

I exist in jagged spaces. Like the frayed strands of jeans ripped between my thighs or the breaks in the outlines of unfinished tattoos. Art that doesn’t cover my walls, instead propping up dust in corners, or bits and pieces of a life I forgot to throw away all speak to my permanent displacement.

I exist in the breaks between puffs on a cigarette, in the spaces between words. Never fully pulling myself up and away. I remain suffocated by the sheer amount of air. I exist for no one, not even myself, and fail to connect the lines between here and there.

My reflection, red lips curled around a cigarette or smoky eyes hiding thoughts much more sinister, feigns surprise though I don’t feel anything more than recognition. 

I’ve become so accustomed that I can’t even claim myself anymore.

Not very deep (RDP)