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.

This was inspired by the prompt for the FreeWriteFriday of last week.

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.

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)


There wasn’t much left of this life, nothing to do and nothing to learn. She was so bored…

When she wasn’t bored, she was angry. She screamed and cried and threw things about the room.

When she wasn’t bored or angry, she was sad. She sat in one place and stared at nothing, her eyes full of tears. Sometimes the tears would break and stream down her cheeks in rivers that left the skin chapped and her eyes sore.

She didn’t have a happy moment, didn’t have a peaceful setting, didn’t have a moment where there was balance.

If everyone had a list of emotions, then hers would be microscopic next to any other list in existence.

But at least she had a list.

There were those who had no list and just sat. Their faces blank of any emotion and any muscle memory to show what kind of person they were even to the simple changes of the environment around them.

image: Ed Webster and sourced from Wiki Commons under Creative Commons

This was inspired by the picture from the Light and Shade Challenge prompt for today. Unfortunately, I did not quite make the 100 word limit. That’s fine though, it simply gives me another reason to write more today.

Tell Us a Story!

“Why do you hunt pirates?”

“Is it full of adventure, your life?”

“What are they like? Do they all have eye patches!”

“Do you do it for their gold?”

“Tell us! Tell us!”

He chuckled deeply as the small children continued to hound him with questions about his chosen path. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that pirates were nothing like their fairy tale counterparts. They were a lot more dangerous and a lot more prone to killing than small children who didn’t know any better would ever believe.

image: British Library from Roving Jack the Pirate Hunter, published 1867, a romance

Silly little thing that went a little darker at the end. This was inspired by the picture for the Friday prompt from Light and Shade Challenge and this time I kept within the word limit! (looks very pleased with herself)

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.


image: courtesy of freeimages.co.uk

Do you measure up?
Do you measure down?
What is the yard stick,
That you measure yourself to?
Is there anything that you reach for?
She looked up and up and up.
She was the shortest in the house,
That didn’t stop her from piling high
The chairs and boxes until she could reach the top.
She’d make a way to be enough.
He looked down and down and down.
There were so many people there.
They were alone and dirty and sorrowful.
He didn’t let that stop Him from bending down
And pulling someone back up with Him.
They looked at the one stick available.
There wasn’t enough for everyone to work at the same time.
So taking turns, they passed around
The implement needed to complete
The biggest project they had all year.
The smallest person makes the difference,
They can sit and listen, say nothing at all.
They can cry with you, hold you.
Make sure that no matter how small you feel
You aren’t left alone to feel it.
So when you look around you
And see nothing but obstacles.
Remember that you can climb over the top,
No matter how high up they look,
Because it’s not just you alone at the base.

This was partly inspired by Sara Bareilles’s song Brave and also from the Friday prompt for Light and Shade Challenge, though I, once again, went over the 100 word limit.


image: saavem on rgbstock.com

She shuddered and opened her eyes. It was dark and there was little light. As she lay in the car, she recognized very little of it. The windows were cracked and glass lay about her. The metal of the car was twisted around her body in a mockery of an embrace. She wasn’t hurt too badly or, if she was, she couldn’t tell. Considering how her head was ringing it was likely that she was suffering from, at the very least, a concussion.

Which would explain partially why she couldn’t remember how she’d come to be in this position. She couldn’t even turn her head in order to see if there was anyone with her and her ears were ringing too loudly to hear anything either.

“Is anyone here?” she called out and then stopped, “Never mind,” she mumbled, hoping to stop the louder ringing and now spinning that she had subjected herself to with her yell.

No one answered, so it was just as well.

She was able to see the outside sky a little and she marveled at the string of stars and the strange streak that went right through them.

‘The Milky Way is far more gorgeous than I ever imagined,’ she thought to herself.

This wasn’t the last time she would ever see the lights above her, but it was the first time she would see a shooting star seem to land next to her.

“I’m going to get you out of there.”

Tonya smiled at the angel, surely it was an angel to be able to glow like that, who was reaching through the twisted metal and broken glass towards her.

Tonya was still smiling when the angel’s hand touched her head and everything went dark.

Written for Light and Shade’s Friday Challenge: http://lightandshadechallenge.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/light-and-shade-challenge-friday-27.html

Though I have once again missed the target word count (100 words) and gone over it…

I’m just so wordy…

Angel’s Highway for Ivy House

It seemed more difficult than it really was. Most things did, unless of course there was some kind of human or sentient influence that made it so.

With a sigh, she moved her thoughts away from conjecture and back into her job.


“This is Angel’s Highway, how may I help you?”


“Yes?” she asked again after the voice trailed off into silence. She could do patience, this whole job was about patience.

“I was wondering…if…there was…”

She tried her best not to count the seconds that were ticking by. It wasn’t the caller’s fault that they were so nervous, it was a common problem with those who called this service. They were always afraid of actually asking for anything. Almost as if they felt that they really shouldn’t have called in the first place.

People asking for help, people who actually needed that help, were often very timid about asking for said help.

“I was wondering…ifyouhadanyopeningsintheIvyHouseFoundation.”

Marie was very skilled at working out what people had said when they were trying to get everything out as fast as they could, so she didn’t need to ask for her caller to repeat herself.

With a few quick moments of her fingers over her keyboard, she pulled up the current vacancy lists within Ivy House. Good, there were several vacancies but it would depend on a few things…

“Is there a specific number of people that would be in your party?”

“Um…just about…maybe…three?”

“Any particular needs in that group: age, illness, etc?”

“N-no, just one adult a-and two pre-teens.” came the timid reply.

“Is there a specific locale that you would like to be in? We have room in a few country areas and several small towns as well as one or two with open room in the city.”

The rest of the conversation went fairly well, though Marie could tell that the woman on the phone was still nervous there was an undertone that she couldn’t help but smile at.

It was always a wondrous thing when you heard the moment someone’s hope was reborn.

image: Lyssa Medana a small alleyway in Whitby

Written for this week’s Monday prompt from Light and Shade Challenge: http://lightandshadechallenge.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/light-and-shade-challenge-monday-23.html

Forest Revere

photo by jazza on rgbstock.com

A moment alone
In a forest of one
Brings clarity
Clears rebellion.
The wind in the trees
Whisper softly to me
Of secrets 
And gentle reminders.
They tell me I’m not alone
Though no one I see
Because Someone
Is always walking with me.
The birds chirp loudly
And fly over head
Startling me
out of revere.
I look to the sky
Notice clouds that drift by
Painted the colors
Of the sun’s slowing death.
image: martha0stout's phone

image: martha0stout’s phone

Yet I am reminded
It is not a permanent one
Because I know
That was changed by Someone.
Prove it?
I’m happy
As is.

Written for the Friday challenge from Light and Shade: http://lightandshadechallenge.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/challenge-friday-13th-june-2014.html

The second picture is one I’ve manipulated a bit because I couldn’t find any of my sunset pictures.

He Watched And Smiled

He watched over the people below. They were hurrying about, no one really paying all that much attention to anyone or anything around them. It was easy for them to ignore the unwashed children with empty bellies, the disabled veteran sitting under an awning with everything he owned held in a beat up backpack and his only friend a happy-looking but equally dirty dog. The garbage on the streets was ignored just as easily and the teens sneaking around the edges of the allies looking furtive were only glared at before, like everything else, ignored.

If any of the children, veterans, teens or garbage on the streets and sidewalks got a glance it was one of derision or disgust. There was no kindness happening or people giving one another a smile and a nod as they passed.

He gazed down in triumph, knowing that he had won this town fair and square.

Well, he giggled darkly, he hadn’t really played fair but it’s not like he cared all that much about such a thing anyway.

All he cared about was winning in the first place at any cost and sometimes, the cost was the best part of the bargain.

Watching as the people who had thought they were helping those they loved make the decision to cut them out of their lives. Those who thought they were getting something for nothing. Those who thought he was ‘simply misunderstood.’

He loved watching each and every one of them fall to his carefully planned traps and loopholes. It was delicious seeing the realizations in their eyes, feel the despair curling up in their hearts and souls and the darkness grow ever stronger in their minds.

This town was his. This valley was his. This country was his. This world was his.

He’d won.


Image taken by Thomas Marlowe on the streets of the city of York

Written for today’s Light and Shade Challenge picture: http://lightandshadechallenge.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/light-and-shade-challenge-monday-9th.html

Also, because I just feel a little down today for some reason. Just tired is all.