My companion’s breath pelts me like prickly steam when he faces me to speak. No wonder it hurts. It is 30 degrees below zero in these forests. Our bundles get heavier as we trudge beneath the clouds, but we stay focused on the track toward the castle. We have legends to meet. The caravan behind us sweeps away the footprints and lines left behind, leaving not a trace on the white carpet. One wagon wheel creeks with every rotation, reminding us of our journey. A mother tends to her crying child; her loving touch is enough to calm his screams.
Tag: 100 word story
A Good Wingman
“Oh, do you think I could get to first base with her?” Carlos looked where my gaze had landed, chuckled, and said, “Uh, huh.” He quickly glanced back down at his phone and typed a message.
The girl’s phone pinged. She read the text, and a big smile crossed her face. Then, she started walking towards them.
“Who could resist the perfect date?” she said, looking sweetly. I’m always up for a candlelight dinner, romantic music, and good company. And I like a man who can kiss well.”
“Wait… what?”
“Carlos said you wanted to meet me. Hi, I’m Gaby.”
Mortified
The light in my eyes at the Winter Ball grew when I saw the movie stars in the front row as I came down the runway in a beautiful gown, which reminded me of the spirit I once possessed and how chic I used to be. I remember feeling like I was floating until I tripped on the large mound in the carpet, projecting up unnaturally, like someone had propped it up from underneath. My crown slipped off, and my body went crashing spastically, exposing my bare bum, and everything else in the nether regions was completely visible. How embarrassing!
For Where Art Thou?
Reginald’s eyes began to gleam brightly, then started to burn holes into my skin. I screamed mercy but to no avail. If Reginald was trying to mimic a monster, he succeeded as I watched the scars form on my skin. Looking to the sky, I searched for a hero to rescue me. But all I heard was a rustle in the shadows behind the altar. It was probably the wind.
I had hoped to leave a rich legacy, but less and less, I believed that would happen. Defeated, my gaze followed the echo of the train‘s whistle in the distance.
Puff’s Evil Brother
The fire from the emeralds surrounding the beast’s eyes would surely raze the village and its inhabitants. Those in his sightline raised their voices with terror and fled quickly. The elders promptly grabbed the maps of the underground tunnels to ensure most of the villager’s escape.
With a hood covering his head, the oldest tried to navigate the mist and distract the serpent away from the entrance to them. Those needing to flee and stay safe most were the storytellers of the clan. The village needed them to remind everyone of the underworld and the realm the saints came from.
An Easy Decision
How can Gerald justify he’s doing any good works for the foundation when what we see is him sloshing around his beverages at all the charity events? He’s intoxicated right now, partying with the Crows. As Gerald rises, his long chain grazes the puzzle on the table, and it clatters to the floor. It startles him; his raw red eyes signal confusion, fear when he hears the sirens go off, and then rage. His outburst was short but terrifying. I’ve tried to remain distant, but I must make a decision. What choice do I have? Gerald’s antics can’t go on!
Taking A Stand
The takeover was not a surprise. We had hope that it would happen. It wasn’t as flashy as the facades of despots, just honest and gritty. The mighty were low in character and high on power, while the rest of us wanted to be free of their hold on us. How inconvenient their power was the reason for the destruction of our world. My heart ached every time we lost another species, or the death rate rose from pollution, or we choked on the “clean air and water.” We had a right to live the kind of lives we deserved!
Fed Up
I winced in disgust, swallowing this nasty blend of coffee while looking up at the wood beams. Soon, there would be a brawl breaking out, and with a hound howling in the background, accompanying the scene. I debated whether I should flick the ant walking across my table as I replayed The Ants Go Marching song in my head. No, heroes don’t do that; they shoot their enemies, not mess with the innocent. This job was beginning to wear on me, like a hood depriving me of oxygen. I’d rather be on a trip to the races or eat glass.
In The Wrong Place At The Wrong Time
This desert is so hot my temper snaps with each rising degree. I sure wish a sage appeared to direct me to the edges of this dusty place. Better yet, they are magic, so transporting me to a cooler spot in the world would rock!
Add to the heat, the bruise on my thigh was swelling. Ice was the key to keeping it down. Well, that won’t happen. And it’ll turn blue soon! Oh, joy!
The sun begins dipping down, and shadows from the cactus form on the ground. I stretch my injured leg while I’m writing my last words.
Secrets Of The Sisterhood
I took a deep breath in this sanctuary of light, finding solace. Even now, the aftermath of yesterday’s grim events lingers. The hair on the back of my head raised, remembering the undead’s whispers.
The pretense here was a total sham. The church’s beauty was evident, with its gorgeous stained-glass windows inside. On the outside, the cemetery gardens are flush with meadow flowers of various colored petals and well-maintained, aged gravestones. But the secrets of the sisterhood sent me into a tailspin, and I fell deeply into a dark abyss where the mirage of sanctity at the abbey didn’t reside.
I Write Her 