The Interpretation of Dreams


Her scream was muffled by the gloved hand.

“Shut up, bitch!” he hissed at her.

Crying, she tried to shove at him, but he didn’t even seem to notice, let alone care.

Then she saw the knife. He lifted it high up, before slicing it downwards, and she screamed into his hand as the searing pain hit her.

Then she woke up, gasping for air.

“Are you okay, darling?” a tired, but concerned voice asked next to her.

She looked to the side, seeing the face of the man who’d tried to murder her.

“Just a bad dream, sweetheart,” she told him. “Nothing to worry about.”

Except that her husband kept killing her, night after night, and perhaps that was something to worry about.


Lack of Update

Hi everyone!

I’m sorry I haven’t been able to publish anything this weekend, but as an apology I include a link to an awesome story called Four Walls

It’s written by Fae Mallory, a published author of romance.

Though it’s technically a fanfiction of Once Upon a Time, it’s really an original story in its own right, and you don’t need to know anything about OUAT to enjoy it.

“A dying Mr. Gold is determined not to let his fortune fall into the hands of his greedy relatives after his death.”

And so he decides to marry his maid. 

Enjoy!


 

Thornhill

A/N: Okay, today’s post, which is a flash fiction, was originally a challenge! 

Nothing was allowed to actually happen, I had to mostly just describe the weather, and the narrator had to be omniscient. And yet it had to be entertaining. Let me know if you think I succeeded!


It was a horrendously beautiful day.

The roses had bloomed over the night, and the garden was now heavy with the sweet scent of them. The sun was shining above the people of Thornhill, too brilliant and clear and smug not to sentient, but everyone down there thought it lovely. Self-satisfied bastard.

The lady’s maid hoped that the lady would take a walk in the garden, so that she herself could enjoy the same sunshine.

The stable boy was grinning from ear to ear, hardly able to think of anything better than the warm feeling of the sun on his bare face.

The butler thought it a bit too bright, but it was merely the amount of alcohol that he’d consumed the previous day that made him any sort of sensible.

It was a horrendously beautiful day, and it would only become better from now on.

How dreadful.