Judge This Week: Si
Word Count: 300 max
How: Submit your stories as a comment to this post, along with your name, word count, and title (and Twitter handle or blog if you've got 'em!). One entry per person.
Deadline: Midnight tonight, PDT!
Results announced: Next Wednesday afternoon.
Remember: Your entry must begin with the prompt! The prompt can be mutilated, but not beyond recognition. (Pictures do not need to be incorporated into your stories, they're for inspiration (and sometimes our amusement)).
Prompt
She watched the moon from the cracks in the wall.
Moon Watch
ReplyDeleteShe watched the moon from the cracks in the wall. Full! Distant! A mellow-appearing cloud, cumulus, seemed to caress the edge of the rich, yellow globe.
A flutter of wind flitted in the crack. A speck of wind-dust lodged in her eye.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“What?” Ethan asked.
“Nothing. Something is in my eye.”
“I’ll take a look.”
“That’s not necessary. It’ll tear out.”
“Maybe. Let me look, anyways.”
“Okay,” she relented, pleased that he had insisted.
Ethan touched her cheek in the muted light, asked, “Which eye?” and she said,” The left eye.”
He took a piece of tissue from his pocket, moistened it lightly and gently swabbed her left eye.
“Well?” he then asked.
She blinked, said, “Yes, I think so. Thank you.”
He then kissed her and stepped back into the dark reaches of the old Inn.
They were silent for a time. She again looked through the cracks, skyward, towards the moon.
“Look out the window,” he suggested. “It’s a much fuller view.”
“I know,” she said. “But this way, I see streaks, no, slivers of the moon, of the sky. I know it is all there but this way, well, it’s like the way memory often is, you know, when we recall splinters of our life, moments that flash to mind.”
Ethan stepped again into the pale glow of moonlight slicing through the collapsing way-station. “Are you having flashes of memory?” he asked, hoping that some shard of her past was inching up from the depths.
“No,” she sighed. “I know you thought it would help…bringing me to this place.”
“Woods Raven Inn. You grew up here. Until the crash.”
“And then?”
“Yes, he said, “Years of recovery.”
“And still, no memory?”
“It’ll come, Catherine. It’s just taking longer than expected…”
“Catherine?” she whispered.
299 moments just out of reach
@billmelaterplea
www.engleson.ca
Moon Dance
ReplyDeleteBy Ronel Janse van Vuuren
@miladyronel
ronelthemythmaker.wordpress.com
180 words
She watched the moon from the cracks in the wall. Purple and blue light flickered across the silver orb. Almost like someone was dancing.
The lights slowed down to a slow waltz. They were mesmerising to watch. They stopped completely and she thought that the dance was over. Suddenly, they picked up the pace and twirled all over the surface of the silver orb.
Faster and faster the lights spun. Her heart quickened. The music changed and the blue and purple dancers broke apart to dance on their own, never slowing down.
Suddenly it stopped. The lights disappeared and only the silver orb was left. She backed away from the wall. It felt like she’d witnessed something private.
The light of the moon caressed her hand one last time before she stepped out of its reach completely. She felt the cold racing through her blood as she left the source of her magic.
She turned back to the darkness of her stone dungeon. She hoped that when the full moon came again, someone hadn’t cemented closed the cracks in the wall.
By @HomemadeHalo
ReplyDelete300 words
Winds of Change
She watched the moon from the cracks in the wall. Tonight, it appeared half fed, hanging low in the African sky. The wind, with both of its hands, grabbed a hold of the palm roof of the mud house and rattled them, desperately wanting to come in, but the roof held firm, having been constructed by the best builder in the village. Simbi turned and went to lie down on her bed, a straw mat on the floor with her hands serving as her pillow. Okuro the dry cold east wind was not as excited as she was; she was sure neither he nor her would be willing to rest this night. Her heart in her chest seemed like it had newly learnt how to skillfully play the makosa beat. Obu Malaki had said he loved her.
She could hardly believe it. Of all the unmarried virgins in the village, he had picked her. He was what she always prayed for; a tall man with broad back strong enough to carry enough produce from his large farm, and narrow hips enough to give her 6 or 7 children that would carry on their proud family name, long after she had joined her ancestors. Tomorrow, Abu would go meet father in the main hut with 30 tubers of yam, 10 cowries shells and a keg of palm wine, to tell him of how he spotted a young soft dainty flower in his compound as he passed by. Simbi hugged herself tight with joy. The future was laid unveiled before her.
The next morning, along with a guide, strange men with skin the colour of the inside of a coconut, who spoke through their nostrils in a strange sounding language came instead, seeking to see her father the chief.
Words: 298
ReplyDelete@CarinMarais
www.maraiscarin.wordpress.com
The Sky At Noon
She watched the Moon from the cracks in the wall of the tower where she was kept prisoner every night. Tendrils of light escaped through the cracks where she pressed her eye against the wall. But for all the light that could escape, it was not enough the draw the moon’s attention. He still kept his back turned on her, his face towards the earth as he searched for her there.
She could hear his faint voice above the Stars’ singing. The Stars were singing a dirge for one of their kin who had fallen, trailing the last of her light across the night sky. The Star who loved the Moon and whose heart had been broken by him. He neither noticed her love, nor saw her fall. So they sang a dirge he did not hear as he searched for the Sun on the horizon where the ocean spilled over the edge of the earth.
But the Tower of the Sun was always kept just outside the Moon’s eyeline by the Nightcloak Man who spread the darkness over the earth each night. Each evening he captured the Sun, each night the Moon searched for her in vain. Each night the Nightcloak Man thought the Sun started to love him.
The Sun beat upon the stone of her tower prison and cried out in such anguish that the stone’s heart broke and crumbled.
The walls of the tower fell away, letting out bright shards of light as the Sun stepped forward. The Moon turned around, smiling. He cast his spear at the Nightcloak Man, who fled from them.
For what seemed an eternity the Moon and the Sun hung in the sky together above the earth and people marveled to see the Moon in the sky at noon.
Sian Brighal
ReplyDelete@sian_ink
210 words
Lunacy
She watched the moon from the cracks in the wall, crushed up against the cold, damp and crumbling stone. Her eye strained, hungering for the light and she scratched away, trying to dig her way towards the cool, beautiful moon. A puff of chilled air ghosted over her moist eye and she gasped at the sting and rush of tears.
It'd been an age upon age since she'd felt anything; the unpleasant sting was glorious. When was the last time the moon had struck this long forgotten wall? How long had it been since the moonlight had tugged on her soul and pulled her into something approaching form and substance?
Her frantic fingernails scratched away another layer of decrepit stone and a few more microns’ width of light lanced in. Her eyelid fluttered in delight as another sliver of skin came alive. Eternity trapped within this stone, her bones and flesh mixed with setting mortar, had seemed a curse beyond tolerance, but now it was her grace.
But for now, she was the suffering shore waiting on the ebb and flow of her creator. For now, she was the scratching in the night…the glint of light in a watcher’s eye…the strange sense in the dead of night of someone close.
Title: The cabin of bones
ReplyDeleteWord count: 299
She watched the moon from the cracks in the wall. As it rose over the horizon, its beams caressed the dark forest. Otsana knew the time was near at hand. Convicted by the village elders of stealing, the punishment was to be death. Traditionally, Otsana would have been drowned. Tonight, instead, she was placed in “hezurrak kabinan”, or “The cabin of bones”. Local cows were frequently slaughtered in the hours of darkness. It was thought werewolves were responsible. As an appeasement offering, the young thief was left in the cabin. The villagers believed that offering a living sacrifice would keep the demons happy. Contented werewolves would spare the cattle and the village would praise the elders.
As the moon rose, the forest grew silent. Even the creatures of the night not wanting to draw attention to themselves. The village elders were pleased at their solution to two problems at once. They toasted their own cleverness and ingenuity. Otsana had been a thorn for some time; she was neither meek, nor willing to obey their demands. She questioned their actions and stirred unrest among others. Her demise would not be missed.
As Otsana felt the pull of the moon, she didn’t fight but gave herself willingly to it. Too often had she had to hide, had to deny nature. There would be no hiding tonight! Otsana felt her body change. She welcomed the pain of transformation. She snarled as her clothes shredded and her bonds could hold her no longer.
The peace of the forest was shattered by an unearthly howl. For once, the elders were not afraid. Their animals should be safe tonight!
What the elders heard as an animalistic howl, others in the woods heard as: “Come, my brethren. Let us take vengeance on those who persecute us!”
Watching the Watcher
ReplyDeleteBy vani jha
@purpleSpeak
Words:225
She watched the moon from cracks in the wall.It was a dingy little room and she was trapped between four hideously wallpapered brick walls.He was in the dining room on the other side of her wall.It has become a daily routine,he would bring the meat,she would cook.She hated him,he has kidnapped her since she was 12.The same year her mother died.She no longer remembers if it was Stockholm syndrome or the beginning of a bad end from the start.Just like the walls in her room,her soul was, somewhat cracked.
She didn't want to know whether he still lay breathing in that couch or whether she has been able to put him to sleep at last.Both prospects were harrowing.
So she lay there in her bed looking at the moon,thinking about a man she loved but couldn't stand to bear the sight of,that her mother married,whom she considered her father,who had chosen those hideous brick wallpapers,who loved her like his own daughter,who died everyday thinking about her mother and who little by little killed her.Love may not kill but it has the power to smother.
Raaj felt the story was too depressing and turned the TV off.He started looking for the cracks in his own wall.
Watching the Watcher
ReplyDeleteBy vani jha
@purpleSpeak
Words:225
She watched the moon from cracks in the wall.It was a dingy little room and she was trapped between four hideously wallpapered brick walls.He was in the dining room on the other side of her wall.It has become a daily routine,he would bring the meat,she would cook.She hated him,he has kidnapped her since she was 12.The same year her mother died.She no longer remembers if it was Stockholm syndrome or the beginning of a bad end from the start.Just like the walls in her room,her soul was, somewhat cracked.
She didn't want to know whether he still lay breathing in that couch or whether she has been able to put him to sleep at last.Both prospects were harrowing.
So she lay there in her bed looking at the moon,thinking about a man she loved but couldn't stand to bear the sight of,that her mother married,whom she considered her father,who had chosen those hideous brick wallpapers,who loved her like his own daughter,who died everyday thinking about her mother and who little by little killed her.Love may not kill but it has the power to smother.
Raaj felt the story was too depressing and turned the TV off.He started looking for the cracks in his own wall.
Watching the Watcher
ReplyDeleteBy vani jha
@purpleSpeak
Words:225
She watched the moon from cracks in the wall.It was a dingy little room and she was trapped between four hideously wallpapered brick walls.He was in the dining room on the other side of her wall.It has become a daily routine,he would bring the meat,she would cook.She hated him,he has kidnapped her since she was 12.The same year her mother died.She no longer remembers if it was Stockholm syndrome or the beginning of a bad end from the start.Just like the walls in her room,her soul was, somewhat cracked.
She didn't want to know whether he still lay breathing in that couch or whether she has been able to put him to sleep at last.Both prospects were harrowing.
So she lay there in her bed looking at the moon,thinking about a man she loved but couldn't stand to bear the sight of,that her mother married,whom she considered her father,who had chosen those hideous brick wallpapers,who loved her like his own daughter,who died everyday thinking about her mother and who little by little killed her.Love may not kill but it has the power to smother.
Raaj felt the story was too depressing and turned the TV off.He started looking for the cracks in his own wall.