Drabble: Hidden between

Prompt: Hidden between

Hidden between the cracks and crevices, you can just make it out. It won’t stay still and it’s difficult to hold in sight for long, but you feel its presence and you know that it’s watching you. It can see you just as easily as you can see it. You tear the wall apart, dropping the pieces chunk by chunk to the floor, but still it eludes you. The more you excavate, the more it evades.

The wall is gone now, torn to rubble by your hands, by your eagerness and greed. No longer can you feel its presence, its warmth. The answers it once held are lost forever now. Instead of letting it exist just out of your reach, you wanted it for yourself. It had to be yours, didn’t it? You wanted to claim it for your own. You couldn’t leave it alone. Now no one else will ever even see it.

You stare down at your hands, realizing too late your folly. You apologize. You plead. You excuse. You didn’t know the wall was its only home. You didn’t know it would die without it. What a silly creature it must have been, you decide. Perhaps the world is better off without it. Honestly what use could an animal be if all it does is live inside the hidden spaces of the world.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: At the peak

Prompt: At the peak

At the peak we turn around and stare down into the white valley. At the top of the world, nothing looks real. You don’t feel like you’ve conquered a mountain, instead you glimpse into an alien world. The mountain groans as snow shifts and wind howls, like an old man who has particular distaste for visitors.

You feel uncomfortable in your body and are painfully aware that you don’t belong here. Your breathing is heavy. The air is too thin, a kind way of saying that anything that needs oxygen to survive will have trouble at these heights. Even the birds aren’t foolish enough to fly this high. Your limbs are numb from the cold, and you haven’t slept properly for close to a week.

Here at the top of the world, the highest altitude on the planet, the smallest weakness can lead to death. Never had a heart problem before? The mountain will test that. Think you packed enough provisions? The mountain will test that too. Being physically prepared isn’t just a recommendation, it’s necessary for survival.

After a thirty minute rest, it’s back down again.  Don’t worry, old man mountain, we won’t be long. Let us admire your beauty before we return to our world, the world we tend to take for granted.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: Blah blah blah

Prompt: Blah blah blah

The words won’t come, but you can’t force them. The keys on the keyboard won’t press themselves any more than sheer concentration will push the ink out of the pen. Words are finicky brats and are quite easily frightened. They bubble up out of an intangible haze, but just as you reach out to them, they go under again.

They must come of their own free will, these fickle words, but it’s up to you to know which ones are worth catching. Wield your net carefully and don’t be afraid to choose the best. Brevity is alright, but it can be quite boring. Verbosity is lovely too, but can lead to much confusion.

If you do have a muse, it’s probably best not to wait around for her. She is easily distracted and quickly loses interest in anything you value. She often whispers of new ideas, new characters, new worlds while you’re waist deep in a completely different project. She sees your schedule as more of a suggestion, and every time you start complaining, she gets bored. After all her job isn’t really to be your muse, she’s really there to be your crutch. She is both a convenient scapegoat and an incomparable genius. Is it any wonder she is so unreliable?

Write garbage, write foolishness, write in a stream of consciousness, write a grocery list, write what you love about your cat, write something you would never show the light of day; just don’t leave a blank page behind. That is the only true rule.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: Fire Burning

Prompt: Fire Burning

Good Girl

#

A fire burns behind her eyes,

a fire of heat and scorn.

She looks at me with those pale blue eyes

all hope has been forlorn.

#

She has no mother or father

and her siblings are all dead.

She has no home, no country,

and no path with which to tread.

#

Hatred burrows deep inside her

and tears out all regret.

Any love she might have felt

is gone without a fret.

#

She is the bitter vengeance,

a punishment they say.

An inevitable death

on whom pleas will not sway.

#

When she decides to take up arms

one day when she is older,

few can possibly deny

how righteous is her fervor.

#

She is a product of her time,

a creation not intended,

but with such fire burning,

how can we ever mend it?

#

A gentle hand, a warm heart,

these things can take some time.

But without patience she’ll run

headlong to some crime

#

Against her own people

or strangers, she will fight

because fire burns the brightest

when good kindling sets alight.

###

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: A Father’s Lament

Prompt: Ran Away

You left when I wasn’t looking, you didn’t even say goodbye; is that any way to treat your father? I’m left alone once again, a broken husk of what I used to be. I move between extremes, wondering if I’ll ever forgive you, but knowing that I will.

I wish a thousand impossibilities. I wish we hadn’t fought, and that I hadn’t been so harsh. I regret the way my words skewered you enough to make you run like an injured lamb into the night.

You ran to be free of me, as painful as that is to say. You went into that unknown world, without even so much as a farewell. I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re alive. It’s not the first time I’ve been abandoned. I know I won’t lay forever on the floor, staring up at the pictures that hang along the walls; but that doesn’t fix my shattered heart. I’ll pick up the pieces, I’ll somehow survive, but I won’t ever be the same.

You didn’t know it when you ran away, but you took a piece of me with you. If you ever do come back, if I am ever worth coming back for, just know that I still love you. Despite my words, despite your anger; there is always a place for you here beside your crazy, dysfunctional dad.

Stay safe, Sweetheart.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.