Twittering Tales challenge is hosted by Kat Myrman at like mercury colliding… The goal is to write a twitter-length story, in 140 characters or less. You can see the challenge HERE. 🙂 Here’s my story for this week’s prompt:
My pet loves to cuddle and I love the soft touch, too. But at times, the pet cuddles for too long. I guess that’s what I have the claws for.
(140 characters)
I like writing some short forms of stories that I’ve encountered here, on other people’s blogs. I think they are very fun to write, and great for practicing your writing. Yesterday, I wrote one six word story, and then the other followed… And in the end, I thought they went well together. So, this is a two sentence story made of two six word stories. XD
The topic is: Fake it ’till you make it.
Face smiled, but eyes were frowning.
Mask on, game of life begins.
#MiracleChallenge : Week – 10
Challenge No : 5
Write a Tiny Tale /Poem using below prompt image in 5 or less sentences(for tale) and 5 or less lines(for poem)
He came back home, exhausted. It was late, and she was probably already asleep since she had to go to work early in the morning.
He cursed his life, but then, suddenly, his mood changed. His heart warmed up as he noticed that she had left a message on the table, using his childhood toys. Smile, her message said, and he did smile, remembering why life was not so bad after all.
Challenge No : 5
Write a Tiny Tale /Poem/ Haiku/ Senryu using below prompt image in 5 or less sentences(for tale) and 5 or less lines(for poem)
Kids grow up, and then what happens to teddy bears? Fluffy didn’t want to find out, so he broke the laws of his people and started to run.
He ran as fast as he could, until he reached a perfect place to rest, a bench in a park which was painted with the colours of autumn. As sunlight embraced him for the first time in his life, Fluffy felt free.
He would never be somebody’s toy.
Challenge No : 4
Write a Story/ Poem using Prompt Theme – A VISITOR
Celestine was home alone, and she found it soothing. She filled a cup with coffee and made herself cosy, sitting sideways and lifting her legs over the curved arm of the sofa. She took a sip from the little cup and felt a cloud of peace envelop her. The tapping of the rain was the only sound that could be heard. This was exactly what she needed.
Suddenly, the door rang. It sounded like a scream, too loud in the soft quiet of the room.
Who could it be? Celestine’s husband was on a meeting and her sons had just recently left the house. There was no way they could be back so soon.
Celestine approached the door with caution. She didn’t know why, but she felt uneasy. Something wasn’t as it should be.
“Who is it?” she asked but no answer came.
Why did she give a day off to Bertha? Her kind servant would’ve made her less anxious, and she would be the one to open the door.
“Who is it?” Celestine asked again.
“Your old friend,” a male voice said, a voice she couldn’t quite place, but it evoked even more fear. Fear she couldn’t explain.
Celestine finally decided to open the door. She gasped. The first thing she saw were glowing, silver strands of hair. Though wet from the rain, they looked soft and beautiful. Celestine knew immediately who the man on her doorstep was, and she couldn’t believe it.
“You won’t invite me in?” the unexpected visitor said.
Celestine was too stupefied to do or say anything, and she didn’t stop the man when he walked through the door. He went straight to the living room and she, as if suddenly awakened, ran after him.
“Eric…” she spoke, his name the only word she could utter.
“My darling Celestine,” he faced her with a wide smile.
She could now see his face well, and she found it unchanged. How could that be? He looked just the same when she last saw him, and that was almost twenty years ago. She couldn’t find a single trace of aging. His face was the same as the day she put a bullet to his chest.
“How can this be?” she asked herself.
“You know I’m hard to kill,” he was still smiling.
“But you… You haven’t changed…”
“I come from where the magic is, dear Celestine. I told you so many times, magic exists and it is there for the taking, only if you dare to do it.”
“I don’t want to take part in anything like that!” fear was threatening to overcome her, but Celestine stood strong.
“I know that,” Eric’s smile became a smirk. “You’ve proven to be quite untrustworthy. I’m not here for you, anyway.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want my son.”
Celestine’s mind immediately produced a picture of her older son and his silver hair, the same as Eric’s. The son who never acted like a part of the family, who always searched for something else, something different. The son in whose eyes gleamed a dark spark of magic.
“What are you talking about?” it was best to act stupid, she decided.
“I know he’s mine. And you and your husband know that as well.”
“He’s not yours!” Celestine cried out.
“Well, consider yourself warned. He will learn the truth and you can do nothing to prevent it.”
He smiled again, and this time his smile was eerie. Evil.
Celestine didn’t even realize he left her house. She stood, petrified, unable to accept what had just happened. They fought magic and now it came to fight them back.
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
I have nothing against princesses,
I like the sound of crackling fire,
and I’m very fond of cats,
but it doesn’t mean I don’t see
when injustice is being served.
Why are wolves always hunted
yet you forgive your cats
for killing birds and little mice
and bringing them as gifts?
Why is ice considered cruel
when fire can hurt as well?
Why are queens always evil
and princesses you root for?
I write my own fairy tale,
and I create a powerful queen
a woman needs not be weak
nor act sweet and for rescue wait
if she wants to be a heroine.
So I bestow on her a gift of ice,
ice-cold eyes, a power to create,
she will freeze you if you dare
in a tower lock her up,
she will make you disappear
before your wicked curse is uttered.
A magic mirror in her possession,
but who’s the fairest she doesn’t ask,
she uses it to uncover lies,
to see where’s a need to fight,
defend herself and all she loves,
a crown of ice on head held high.
She runs in the company of wolves,
with them she is always free,
she howls proudly at the moon
and hunts those who deserve it;
little girls that carry baskets
are not always what they seem,
sometimes a poisoned apple
and hidden thorns lie therein.
A queen, not a princess,
powerful and not naïve,
clever and not benign,
her touch so cold that it burns,
but that doesn’t mean she’s cruel.
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
We have all met Pain.
It comes to all of us, wearing different disguises.
Sometimes it is hidden in heartbreak, disappointment, abandonment, loneliness.
It can also come abruptly, underneath the mask of loss.
Or it can sneak inside our minds in form of fear; common fears and unusual phobias.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it is the pain of sharp teeth and claws of a monster tearing your body apart.
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Eric walked into a bar, unsuspecting of what was about to happen. He just came for an ordinary friday drink with friends, a simple celebration of the beginning of another weekend.
Eric greeted Frank and Tom, taking his usual place at the table.
“Alex’s not here yet?” he asked, just to start a conversation.
“He’ll be here soon, I guess,” Tom replied.
“There he comes!” Frank interjected.
Eric involuntarily glanced at the entrance. And then, peripherally, he caught an image that drew his attention. He looked closer, and he felt as if his heart fell to his feet. At the table in the corner of the bar, sat Heather Locke. He hadn’t seen her for many years, but he recognized her right away.
Eric and Heather were deeply in love once. They were high school sweethearts, a perfect couple, until she moved to another town and distance destroyed their relationship. They hadn’t been together for more than two months, but it was the kind of love that you never forget. If fate didn’t interfere, they would probably still be together.
Eric observed Heather for a while, as if he feared that she would disappear from his sight. She hadn’t changed much. She moved in the same way as before, a way he couldn’t describe but could easily identify. Her hair was still frisky, as she often described it, and she probably hated it for being that way even today. Eric, however, liked the way it framed her small face, and made her expression seem fresh and energetic. He felt that her hair described perfectly the hidden part of her character. On the outside, Heather was a serious, ambitious person. She always had good grades and she knew exactly what she wanted in life. But, at the same time, she was a passionate dancer. Even though she had many school responsibilities, she always found time for her dance practices.
“When I dance, I feel like I’m outside of my own mind. I’m completely free,” she used to say. “I love to feel free, to forget about everything.” It was these words that made him fall in love with her.
He once attended one of Heather’s dance performances. He never forgot the image of her, in a light blue dress, floating through air. It seemed as if her feet never touched the ground. She was a bird, escaping from the cage of habitude. Feather Heather.
Eric, the grown-up one, who was sitting in his usual place in his regular bar, mentally prepared to approach the grown-up Heather. He never dared to dream he would see her again, his Heather, the one that got away. With all his strength, he got up from his chair and walked towards her table. He was painfully nervous. This was to be their fairytale moment, a big renunion. This might change their lives.
“Hi, Heather!” his voice sounded strange to him.
She smiled with that familiar smile of hers, the smile that cheered him up so many times before. Her pupils constricted.
Finally, she spoke:
“Excuse me, do I know you?”
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Not giving up was my demise.
*I wanted to try this form, too* xD
So, did you miss me? Do you want to know what’s happened since the last time we talked?
Maybe I should stop talking to myself. Narrating your own life cannot be healthy. But embracing the madness is sometimes just what you need.
Anyway, not much happened, except for that one important thing. And the fact that I’ve become a murderer.
First, let me say that Eric Leigh and I have agreed on a very simple plan. He wants to destroy the ministers, my father is one of them; I’ve got the information, he’s got the means.
“But why should I trust you?” he asked me. “Why would you want to destroy your own father?”
“I have a reason much purer than yours,” I replied. “I want revenge.”
Leigh smiled knowingly. He decided to trust me.
It won’t be possible to realize the plan soon, but it isn’t hard for me to wait. I’ve never been of the impulsive kind. I felt calm, for the first time in months. But with a father like mine, I should’ve known I was not supposed to feel that lucky.
I came home yesterday, and wanted to see my sister. Alexandra had told me the day before that she was in love with Ryder Thorne, a self-proclaimed rock star and a completely unreliable guy if you ask me, and I hadn’t reacted well. I wanted to apologize to her. Even if she’s making a mistake, it’s her mistake to make. I shouldn’t treat her like father does, and keep her locked up at home.
I went to Alex’s room and knocked. She wasn’t there. If she had gone out, she would’ve told me, so that I could cover for her and make sure father didn’t notice. I started to fear that she was too angry at me to ask for help. I decided to wait in the living room and hoped she would arrive soon. As I was passing though the hallway, father appeared and got in my way.
“If you’re looking for Alexandra, she’s not here,” he said without being asked. He was proud of his words. He wanted me to know what had happened.
“What have you done?” I started to panic.
“She’s with her fiancé. I told him to take her with him.”
I felt a strong urge to grab him by the neck and squeeze. But I didn’t have the time for that.
“How did you convince her to go,” I hissed.
“Tybolt is much stronger than our little Alex. What could she do? You see, things always go the way I want them to. Alexandra is going to marry the man I want her to marry.”
“She’s your daughter! And she hates Tybolt!” I screamed. “You will suffer for this!”
I ran out of the house. I knew exactly what to do, but I needed help. Tybolt had guards, just like the rest of so-called important people in this horrid city. There was no one I could trust, except maybe one person. A person who, supposedly, loved my sister.
Ryder Thorne was shocked to see me at his door.
He lived alone, in an apartment that was actually only a room. But I had to put my feelings aside and act.
“It’s about Alex,” I said.
“Look, Theo, I really care for her. You don’t have to worry…”
“If you’re telling the truth, you’ll help me save her, even if it’s dangerous.”
“Save her!? What’s going on?”
It seems that Ryder does love my sister. When I gave him a gun, his hand trembled. I was glad to notice that, it meant that he wasn’t dangerous, and at the same time it meant that I would be able to hurt him if needed. Anyway, we went to Tybolt’s house. Everything happened so fast, and it’s hard for me to remember the details. Ryder was supposed to get caught breaking in. The guard who stood at the entrance took him in, to inform his employer. I waited for a few minutes, and managed to get into the house easily. I followed the voices to the room where Tybolt was, with my sister. Alex remained calm. She was trying to convince Tybolt to let Ryder go. It was time for me to do what I came to do. With fingers clenched tightly around the handle of my gun, I broke into the room.
All the thoughts disappeared from my mind. I heard myself say: Let my sister go! And I heard Tybolt laugh. I saw Alex’s eyes begging me to leave. I noticed Ryder’s confusion; he wanted me to tell him what to do next. I fired. The guard fell to the floor.
“I told you I’d kill you if you even think of touching her!” I said, pointing my gun to Tybolt.
“Theo, please, let’s just talk,” he was scared, and I loved it. The power was in my hands and it felt liberating.
“Get on the floor!” I ordered.
Tybolt kneeled like a puppet whose strings I could pull as it pleased me. I could just take Alex and go, but Tybolt would want to cure his wounded pride. I had just killed a man and witnesses meant trouble. Also, I really wanted to do it. I fired again. It was easier than you would think.
I looked at Alex and found her confused and terrified. I always wanted to protect her from everything, but I never knew I would one day have to protect her from myself. I had to fix the situation, but I needed time.
“Take her with you,” I said to the frightened Ryder Thorne. “I’ll come for her tomorrow, but you have to make sure she’s safe until then.”
He nodded, but couldn’t say a word. He embraced Alex and they remained motionless for a while. United.
I had to let Alex go with Ryder until I talk to Eric Leigh. Only he could help me and I hoped he would. After all, he needed me. I couldn’t wait for the morning to come and now that it’s here I am without words. What am I supposed to say to Leigh? How to even begin a conversation like this?
To read the previous story from Theo’s perspective click HERE.
And here are the links to stories about other characters for the city of Cyron: Alexandra Celestine Gideon
BOOKS AND HOT TEA 