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Picture It & Write: Golden Times

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My Contribution for this week’s Picture It & Write, click here to see, is below. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome as always.

 

 

 

 

 

They were the good old days, memories from that time are lathered in gold because they are my golden memories from a golden age. Back then when time was irrelevant, we felt like we had all the time in the world to share our special bond. Time didn’t matter to us hence why it spilled between our fingers and represented itself in occasional grey hairs which spouted amongst our normal young dark hair. We pretended it didn’t exist, we shoved it into the back of the closet and left it there, a ghost which sat and waited until the right time to come out and torment us.

By the time we realised it was real and it was there, we were too late, we’d let in stalk us in silence like a lion waiting to pounce. Time had separated us, it had torn the fake immortal chain which linked us, which we thought had been unbreakable. The chain had been broken and used to hold a pendant watch, a reminder he’d given to me before he’d left, that time was there and it was impossible to stop. He’d placed time in a cache of gold, to remind me of the golden days and that time was alway there, always watching your every move and counting down your final moments.

Picture It & Write: Clicking Predators

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I missed Friday Fictioneer’s this week so am determined to complete a piece for Picture It & Write. The link for that is here. This week I have written something that could become part of my novel. It’s also a POV from another character in my Friday Fictioneer’s series. So enjoy and remember constructive criticism is welcome.

Eels of heat swam ahead on the shimmering horizon, causing mischief with her mind. Bodies of swirling, carmine dust danced upon the stage that was the desert. Teza brushed the grit from her eyes which peered out from behind her scarf, grey slits of steel scanning the devious horizon. The blazing sun was forever sprinkling an endless rain of heat onto her unclad skin which gleamed with a sheen of perspiration.

Behind her the city lay, the Fire Capitol as it had become known after King Lochlan’s death. Teza’s ‘death’ lay back there also, in attempt to escape her pursuers she had forged her death and run into a desert, it had been a plausible plan at the time. Now Teza doubted whether she’d last the first night, already the desert heat had wilted her spirit and her encounter with the city’s outskirt guards had left her slightly battered.

In the swirling haze of the distance she caught a glimpse of four figures. A blinding knife of light pierced her eye and when she looked back they were gone. Teza stopped in her tracks at a sudden clicking noise, she looked back and already the shifting red sands where coating her footprints, leaving no trace of her journey. Behind her she heard the ominous clicking of pincers and the horror stories of the desert’s cruelest predators came rushing back from her memory.

Picture It & Write: The Reflection

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This week’s Picture It & Write can be found here. I enjoy this new group and seem to get a good lot of hits out of it, so thank you Ermilia. Hope you all enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

Soft piano giggle echoed through the corridor, light tapping and the occasional swish of a dress also accompanied the sound. Dane trekked silently down the hall, as quiet as the fall of a feather, ancient sheets of dust lay on the floor and sprung to life with each footstep. He came upon a door, paper birch white with a prominent brass handle protruding from it, beckoning Dane to open.

Slowly he turned the handle, it creaked from years of being untouched, its echo filled with relief. Dane pushed against the door and looked inside, crumbling brick like a cake, fell away leaving a trail of dust cascading after it caught in the eerie light of the full moon outside. As he looked in he caught the shimmer of a figure, seemingly disappear like a hologram, a sweet young giggle stroked his ears and sent an abnormal shiver through his body.

The only feature in the room was a large mirror leaning against the back wall as though tired with waiting. Dane crept towards it and brushed away century old dust, revealing intricate patterns engraved in the brass of the frame. He glanced down at the mirror which not only reflected his image but a petite young girl behind him, dressed in a swam white dress which shimmered with purity. Dane yelped in fright as the girls face transformed and a sudden boiling talon of evil engulfed him.

Picture it & Write: Burning Kiss

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My piece for this weeks ‘Picture it & Write’, which is organised my Ermilia, the link to this week’s prompt is here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

 

Ted watched the wisps of smoke curl and ascend from the woman’s full lips lathered with scarlet lipstick. It flew away smoothly, white gaseous ballerina’s dancing into invisibility.

“Got ya eyes on Nancy do ya? She’s a demon that one, a beautiful one never the less but a demon through and through.” Johnny whispered loudly in his ear, his voice slurred and thick with intoxication. Ted’s eyes never strayed from Nancy, he was mesmerised by her ravishing appearance, he felt her knavish steam prickle his flesh.

“Your talking crap Johnny,” Ted replied, watching as Nancy flexed her long manicured nails which were painted scarlet like her lips, he watched as blood seemed to drip from her finger tips. With a gasp he recoiled, shaking his head, he’d seen a hallucination.

“No no mate, I’m serious, some say she paints her nails and lips with the blood of her victims.”

“Victims?” Ted asked, once again entranced as Nancy stood up, her deep red boots glittering in the candlelight of the saloon. She walked past them, her rose scented perfume knocking Ted’s sense’s clear out of the water, as she passed she stroked his arm and he felt a burning shiver crawl through his body.

“Yea, she puts people in a trance and does wicked things to them,”

“Whatever wicked things she does, I’m going to find out.” Ted smirked at Johnny and swaggered after Nancy, his tassels waving and cowboy boots clinking. He followed Nancy up to her room, and disappeared into her lair, the strong pungent of roses and blood attacked him and fiery touch burned his lips and spread through his body, muffling his screams.

Picture it & Write: Frost Fingers

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So I was ‘blog surfer’ when I stumbled upon Ermilia’s blog which hosts a writing prompt every fortnight I think. The link to it (picture it & write) is here. Hope you enjoy my first piece for the writing prompt group and constructive criticism is welcome.

Cold, damp fingers brushed her cheek and caressed her hair. She shivered as a unseeable soul walked straight through her, whispering strange words from an ancient language into her body. The words rolled around inside her head and swam down her throat until they reached her heart. She gasped as the lexical intruders latched onto her heart like a parasite and began to gnaw on her soul.

From the truck he watched the little girl stand agonizingly still, as though she was acting as a statue waiting for a predator to leave. In the eerie glow of the trucks headlights, he watched as her knees buckled beneath her and muscle spasms rippled through her until she sunk to the ground and her body flew away as dust. Horror gripped him and his breath came in short and sharp as he watched petrified and suddenly felt frigid fingers stroke his care-worn skin.