I’m Lost

It’s morning and you wake up in bed. The bed is not familiar nor is the room that you’ve woken in. Your clothing isn’t familiar either and though they are cozy feeling against your skin, you are  frightened but trying not to show it.

You hop out of bed and look into the closet. More unfamiliar clothes but half of them fit you while the other half you can tell with a glance belong to a man. You dress quickly, not paying attention to what you throw on except that it fits. You ease the door open and find a hall. You creep down it, listening intently for any sounds.

“Do you think she’s up yet?” You hear from a room at the end of the hall. Light spills from an open doorway.

“Soon enough. She was pretty out of it last night.”

You listen carefully for anything else, but the rest of the conversation is nothing important or earth shattering, they’re only talking about the weather and whether it will rain later in the day or not.

The floorboards squeak under you and you flinch as the sound of someone standing from a chair reaches you. You are too afraid to move as a man comes to the doorway.

“Honey!” he smiles and a part of you wants to be afraid because you still don’t recognize anything, but another part of you feels safe just by the look in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re awake!”


Written for an old FreeWriteFriday prompt.

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A Winter’s Night

At least no one else is here to see me
Be as lost as I can be.
And though I huddle in the night
No one’ll be able to call me a blight.
Don’t forget me, house I pray
Or make me just another forgotten that here lay.
No, I am worth something more
Even though I huddle by this door.
Done though it may seem I am
 
How often I must live on the lam.
Oh how I never thought it would be like this,
Under the sky before sounded like a life of bliss.
So let my weary bones protest
Even through this trial and test.
 
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This was inspired by the prompt for the FreeWriteFriday of last week.

Missing…Alone

You can’t miss what you never had.

This wasn’t, strictly speaking, true. You could miss something that you’ve never had. 

He pulled on his gloves and reached for the top hat, making certain that it was on properly and wouldn’t come loose even when he should step up into the waiting carriage by the door.

“You should have done this years ago!”

“I know! But finding the right time was simply exhausting. We were having too much fun just being in love!”

His thoughts strayed back to the lovely little thing that had been on his brother’s arm, her veil still cascading down her back and only adding a delightful fog to her ebony hair.

It’s perfectly possible to miss something you’ve never had, especially if you can still look at it from the outside so often.

The carriage drove past a lamppost and he looked out at it, feeling a kinship with the loneliest thing on the planet.


This little snippet was inspired by the FreeWriteFriday prompt from this last Friday.

The Key

She held the piece of metal up into the light, turning it this way and that and smiling as the light glinted off the polished handle. It was an unusual key fitted with gears around the handle and four glorious wings stretched out and fashioned of white gold.

It was a very peculiar key, in no small part because she had never seen it before it had appeared next to her on the bedside table this morning when she’d woken up. She’d noticed it right off mostly because everything had to be in its place and that was the one thing that wasn’t. She’d looked at it curiously, but hadn’t picked it up until after she’d gotten ready for the day and eaten breakfast.

Now that she had some time on her hands as nothing was planned for the day, she held it in her hands and admired the craftsmanship of it.

She didn’t bother asking where it had come from as no one else seemed to realize it was there. The nurses hadn’t asked and the doctor who’d come for the morning checkup hadn’t even noticed it when the light from the window bounced off the key and into his eyes.

It was as if it only existed for her and her alone to even know about. Now she only had to decide if she was going to use it.

Her eyes never strayed down to it, but the keyhole in her chest loomed over her mind as the days passed.

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image: found on the prompt

Here is a prompt series that I haven’t been able to write for in a bit, but I do so love the Free Write Friday prompts. They never expire and always make me think. (grins)

Muzzy Morning

She grumbled quietly as the glare of the sun filtered through the partially drawn blinds. Her head ached more with every blinking of the light as the wind rustled the leaves outside, adding to the dilution of the light through the window. Her nose was all stuffed up and she could feel the phlegm dripping down the back of her throat from it.

“Mary? Mary? Are you awake yet?”

Mary groaned, though it was no less loud than the earlier grumbling. The sound of Warren entering the room and, as quietly as he could, walking across the room gave her enough reason to actually lift her head from their bed and peer out at him.

“I don’ feel so goo’.” she mumbled, placing a hand on her aching head.

Warren handed her a glass of water and a few wintergreen mints but nothing else. Mary drank the water and munched a few of the mints before placing the majority on the end table by the bed. She snuggled back under the covers and Warren smiled slightly before kissing her in the forehead and turning the lights off.

Being pregnant seemed to bring out all the vulnerabilities that Mary usually didn’t have.


Inspired in part from one of the FreeWriteFriday prompts and the slight cold I have this morning.

Fae Piano

image: Favim

Kyle crept out of the house and into the surrounding trees on the hillside. His parents were home, but they were having a discussion in their bedroom and they didn’t like it when he was out this late anyway.

They were always talking about how the fairies would steal him away if he was out too late.

He snorted, like that kind of thing ever happened. People in the past were just as curious about the world as he was, but for some reason they came up with all kinds of strange stories as the answers instead of trying to actually find out. Though, in their defense, it’s not like they had the time for science unless they were wealthy. Eking out a living for yourself and your family was a lot harder back when they didn’t have all kinds of machines for making it easier to get through the day.

Besides, Kyle liked walking through the little copse of trees around their house, it had often made him think of a strange little forest when he was really young.

He paused when he came across something strange just off of his normal path.

It was a piano.

The wood was dark, the varnish glinting in the soft twilight of the woods and the keys gleaming faintly. If he hadn’t known any better he would have said the little upright was some kind of strange instrument that was left behind when a group of the fae had finished their little party earlier.

(There had been a slight music on the wind during the early part of the morning and then again just as the sun was setting. He’d shrugged it off as something in his mind. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had instrumental songs stuck in his head off and on his whole life anyway.)

Kyle glanced around, but whoever owned the piano obviously wasn’t there anymore and it likely hadn’t been there for very long. He hadn’t seen it here the last time he’d been able to take a walk this far and the piano itself didn’t look damaged at all so someone must have brought here. Maybe while he was away at summer camp?

He walked closer and rest his fingertips along the fine keys, the melody from earlier filling his head and spilling out onto the instrument.

He never noticed when the faint glow of the keys danced merrily in malicious glee as his eyes slid closed and he lost himself to the music.


Inspired by a combination of two prompts from FreeWriteFriday a few weeks ago. The first is about a modern fairy tale and the second is the picture shown above. Hope y’all like it.

Blurry Memories

I look around and it’s like a faded snapshot from so very long ago. Some things I don’t even really recognize anymore.

Bed unmade, blankets all bunched up at the end of the bed and hanging off. No fitted sheet in sight and a pillow that looks all turned inside out.

Stuffed animals all over the floor and the bed as well, some of them looking as if they had been dropped at the last minute as a child was playing with them before running off for something else.

Marbles in a little pile on an old re-purposed shelf, the paint on it making it more at ease in a toddler’s nursery than the eight-year-old’s shared room. Shiny rocks, some polished, others only glittering when the light hits them just right.

Books stacked in a precarious stack leaning over. A good gust of wind and the pile will fall onto some unprepared head. It’s fallen over more than once already…

Pictures taped up on the walls showing different things: animals and pictures of Christ, quotes in different styles and even a cards scattered around.

Only my things catch my eyes as everything else seems blurry to my mind’s eyes and even those things of mine start to blur around the edges after a few moment.


This memory was brought to you by FreeWriteFriday’s prompt from a week and a half ago.