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.
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.
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.
There was a sandstorm coming in.
Nikki saw it coming with an odd calmness. They’d checked the weather reports. It wasn’t the season for them. And yet there it was, and they couldn’t have more than a minute or so before it hit.
Looking over at her colleagues, she saw the panic in their faces before she felt it herself. Watching Christian cover his face with a scarf, she hurried to do the same, making sure her entire face was covered. Sandstorms weren’t vital as long as you kept the sand out of your lungs, and the important thing to remember was to stay calm.
Except the closer the storm got, the harder it became to remember what she’d once read in a textbook.
And then it hit, and Nikki was blind.
Continue reading The Sandstorm
A/N: Just a (hopefully) funny flash fiction 🙂
It was one of those instances where a gasp just wasn’t enough.
Still I gasped.
I suppose I should have screamed, looking back. A gasp seems oddly anticlimactic, but I’d never been the screaming sort anyway. That was more Darren’s kind of thing, but Darren wasn’t there.
And so I gasped, and they gasped, and for a few short seconds we could only stare at each other in silence.
Perhaps it was a good thing that I didn’t scream. When one got visitors, screaming hardly seemed polite, and these visitors had sure come a long way.
“Hello,” I said. Or at least I think I said it. I heard the word, and I rather thought I’d felt my mouth forming them.
“Hello,” one of them said in return, but it didn’t sound like a greeting. It sounded like he – she? It? – was merely repeating what I’d said. Tasting the word.
“I’m Harold,” I told them. “And would you mind terribly to get your spaceship out of my backyard? You’re ruining my petunias.”
A/N: Okay, so I tried writing a children’s novel. Or at least the beginning of one. My first try since elementary school, so let me know what you think 🙂
The day started with an impossibility and it just went down-hill from there.
RSP was currently standing in his room, heart racing and wings flapping in panic as he stared into his bedroom mirror. Staring at what he couldn’t see. His horns. The horns that he should have gotten last night, on the night of his one thousandth birthday, but which were lacking as surely as every one of his future prospects. What kind of dragon didn’t have horns?
He had to hide them. Though they never said anything, he knew his parents had to be disappointed by their only son’s utter failure as a dragon. Not only was RSP the worst flyer in his class, but his flame was so weak that it could hardly light a match. The lack of horns, however, was the worst of it all – what kind of dragon would he be without magic?
Desperately rummaging through his closet, he found a jungle hat that he‘d stopped wearing when Raoul had told him that he looked like a toddler with wings. For now RSP only cared that he looked like a dragon at all, toddler or otherwise.
Continue reading Horns
A/N: Somehow this originally free verse turned into a sonnet… guess I just looove structure 😄
My favourite flower is the simple rose,
And isn’t that dreadfully boring?
How ordinary isn’t it, to pick a rose?
When you in the rainforest could go exploring?
But I just love the rose, it cannot be helped,
It’s beauty is just so very simple,
So I stand here now, and I proudly state,
That yes, sir, the rose is my symbol.
So sweet a scent if you handle with care,
Though blood will flow if you do not.
There’s a reason the rose is a symbol of love,
Though I can still feel you call it boring in your thoughts.
But if the rose is so ordinary, so let it be,
But for me; complex beauty is all that I can see.
If I fall asleep now I can get seven hours.
Except I need to get up, because I think I let the stove on.
If I fall asleep now I can get six hours.
Except I’m thinking of all the things I’ve got to do tomorrow.
If I fall asleep now I can get five hours.
Except I’m thinking about all the things I didn’t do today.
If I fall asleep now I can get four hours.
The ticking of the alarm clock is driving me insane.
If I fall asleep now I can get three hours.
I have that big project due next week. I’m not even halfway done.
If I fall asleep now I can get two hours.
How am I ever going to work on two hours of sleep?
If I fall asleep now I can get one hour.
One hour. Surely I can’t work on that.
I’m supposed to get up now.
I call in sick.
First day of a new job.
And my insides are tightening.
Like a wind-up clock.
Ready for release.