Of magic and more


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Hope’s Revenge

Writing FF after so long, finally! My 13th post on FF, which is hosted by Rochelle, a forum full of lovely talented writers. Anyone who wants to join in the fun is very welcome!

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Ted Strutz

 Copyright-Ted Strutz

My 99 words based on the photo prompt: 🙂

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HOPE’S REVENGE

The old leaky apartment was not what she was used to, but it was a lot better than her previous accommodations.

“Look to him, he stirs.” Hope urged her assistant. Pandora obliged, running her sharp blade through Zeus’s bound torso. His scream reverberated in the silence, but Hope wasn’t worried. The grilled windows and walls were soundproof.

Many millennia ago she was crammed into that jar with those abominations by the gods. They bruised and scarred her. Innocent Pandora lost her husband’s love- oh, the injustice!

But no more. Hope smiled. She would have her revenge now.

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Winston

This is my submission to the Speak Easy writing challenge #162

WINSTON

Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes. I’ve tried time and again to weed out the memory from my mind, but to no avail. It’s been twelve years since then, and every time I think about it, I go back to the summer I was sixteen and my mother was scolding me for the umpteenth time about-

 

 

“Don’t you think it’s time to throw that thing away?”

“Mom! Don’t call him a ‘thing’.” I protested indignantly. “Winston is my baby!”

“He was, when you were a baby yourself.” She countered.

“No, he still is!” I insisted.

“Stacy.” My mother sighed impatiently. “Fourteen years you’ve fed that rocking horse, petted it, talked to it, even cuddled with it, for goodness sake! Isn’t that enough?”

“Of course it’s not! Winston’s my best friend. Please let me keep him, just a few days, please?” I begged.

My mother sighed again. “Fine, just for a while.”

 I patted Winston’s head lovingly. I had had him since I was two, and he still looked brand new. His stuffed coat shone a warm brown and his glass eyes were so realistic he almost looked alive. I knew I was being childish, keeping Winston like this, but I was strangely attached to him. I wouldn’t even let Matt, my younger brother, play with him when he was a child.

 I wasn’t throwing him away.

I could have sworn I heard a snort of satisfaction, but I just laughed at my imagination and forgot about it.

 

The next Friday, I came home from school and Winston was missing.

“Mom!” I shrieked. “Mom! What have you done with Winston?”

She spoke calmly.“ Oh, I sold it off to a nice man in the next block. He’s got a little boy at home and couldn’t afford a new rocking horse, you see.” She beamed at me as if it was the best thing in the world.

“I don’t believe this!” I wailed again. She winced. “Lower your voice, Stacy! Winston is gone, and that’s final.”

I spent the next few days in a blue funk until Mr.Hanover, Winston’s new owner, came to return him. He apologized and asked for a refund- a series of accidents had occurred with his family after he brought Winston home, and he felt that poor Winston might have been unlucky for them. Well, his loss! I was just happy to have Winston back. This time I thought I saw a glint in his eyes. Yeah, right. And I’m Wonder Woman. I thought dryly.

I was shaken awake at three in the morning by a hysterical Matt. “Stace.”He sobbed. “Mom’s dead…God…she’s dead.”

The police said that she had been hacked to death with repetitive blows to her face and chest. Investigations were fruitless. The incident faded out of the news and we were left alone to move on with our lives.

 

A few months passed. I was on my bed reading about a painting by Albrecht Dürer, when my brother barged in to borrow a pen. “What did I tell you about knocking?” I grouched. Ignoring my question totally, he pointed at Winston. “You still have this worthless thing? How can you even look at it without remembering Mom?”

“What!” I exclaimed.

“Maybe that Hanover guy was right.” He went on. “Maybe this thing is unlucky.” Matt kicked Winston aggressively and stormed out.

I shook my head. Winston was a toy horse, how could he kill anyone? Except…Winston’s head was the perfect weapon to bludgeon someone…..

But I didn’t question it seriously until the mystery killer claimed both my father and my brother at one go, while I was away for a sleepover. The bloodstains on the floor showed that Matt had been dragged back and forth until he was dead. There were teeth and hoof marks on both of them. Winston had been found standing over their bodies, bathed in their blood. The police figured it was some kind of sick joke.

But I had realized the horrific truth and I knew what to do. The night I was placed under police protection, I lit a match and flung it on my childhood friend Winston. It was over now. Winston would never hurt anyone again.

 

 

I’m jolted back to the present by happy squeals. My daughter Hailey comes running in.

“Mommy, look what Daddy got me!”

I smile and let her take me to see her new gift.

My heart stops.

“Mommy, it’s a horsie!”

It’s Winston.

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Here are the rules:

  • Your post must be dated May 18, 2013, or later.
  • Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
  • Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
  • You must include the following sentence as the FIRST line in your submission: “Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes.
  • You must also include a reference to the media prompt.
  • The speakeasy is for submissions written specifically for the grid. Please don’t submit an entry if you intend to showcase it to another blog link-up. Such posts are deleted without notice.
  • Please don’t post long explanations before your post. We want your writing to be the star of the show. If you need to clarify anything, feel free to do so at the end.
  • Albrecht_Dürer_Oswolt_Krel

 


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I know what you did last winter

It’s FF time again, yay! But I’m late as usual.Anyway without further ado, here’s my 12th time writing FF, a lovely weekly challenge run by our sweet hostess Rochelle 🙂

Thanks for the picture, Bjorn!

Copyright - Bjorn Brudberg

                                      Copyright – Björn Rudberg

Here are my 100 words:

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I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST WINTER

I watch the party from the shadows. Darkness is my only refuge.

Over the clink of champagne glasses, my ears catch the strumming of his guitar. There he is, my father. My brother, the perfect son, sits next to him, enjoying the festivities.

Why did you do it, Dad? Were you so ashamed of me? The tears fall fast on my scarred cheeks as I watch him  laugh.

The smell of gasoline and burning flesh are still fresh in my memory.

Last winter will repeat itself, but this time…. I’ll light the fire.

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65 Comments

Wedding Vows

Friday Fictioneers

This is my first attempt at writing 100 word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is our gracious host at FF. The challenge is to write a 100 word flash fiction based on the photo prompt chosen by Rochelle. This week the photo is by Bjorn Rudberg.

 

 

Copyright - Björn Rudberg

                                           Copyright – Björn Rudberg

 

Here are my 95 words.

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WEDDING VOWS

 

 Just because I’m dead, doesn’’t mean I’m not here, Bill grumbled often to himself. The past four years had been comfortable enough for him. He loved his Miriam enough to be happy just seeing her everyday. He’d thought that she had loved him too. But then Alan came along with those ugly flowers and that bucktoothed smile, and now Miriam was leaving her Bill alone! That would not do. Hadn’t she promised to love him and only him forever? Miriam would have to keep her wedding vows. Bill would see to it.

 

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