Writing Challenge ~ August 2015

WRITING CHALLENGE ~ AUGUST 2015​

Sorry for the late start of the August challenge, a lack of internet access was the main culprit but there were other factors too. Regardless, I’m sorry for those waiting for it and hope it was worth the delay!


You can involve the prompts themselves in your piece and make your link to the prompts as obvious or as subtle as you like or use them simply as inspiration for something else. You can use part of the prompts, just one aspect of the images, or use them in their entirety.

As there are several prompts you can of course chose to use all of them in one piece or write one for each…again, it’s your writing, your challenge. You write whatever you’re inspired to write!

The word limit for this challenge is 2,500 words and your submission can take whatever form you desire – poetry or prose, complete story or a vignette. Erotic or not, serious or light hearted, it’s whatever you want it to be!!

Post only your submissions in this thread, constructive comments and reviews are to be posted in the appropriately named – Comment and Review Thread
And please, if you do take the time to read? Please just take a few more minutes to leave a comment.
The deadline for this month’s challenge is Monday 31st August 2015, with September’s challenge hopefully going live the following weekend.

Previous challenges and reviews can be found here.

Happy writing!

Dauwtrappen

In the early morning, while the dew still clings to pants legs and bike tires and eyelashes, I find her sitting amidst the lilies and the lilacs. She smiles at me and whispers things that turn my cheeks redder than the Spring sun rising o'er the valley. She takes my hand and guides me down a path that no one's ever traveled and we do things that many mortals wish they could, or wish they could forget.

As noon burns hot overhead, we drive together into the desert. She is still smiling at me and my cheeks are still ruddy with laughter and shame and desire. The dunes and the pavement feel like mere mirages when I glance at her. We pull off to the side of this road that seems to lead to nowhere and we disappear into the shimmering wastes, leaving more than just the car behind.

The moon is full and sullen as it floats toward midnight. I haven't seen her in weeks and my soul is emaciated by her absence. My dreams are haunted by her presence, replaying all the things that happened. The corners of my eyes are plagued by visions of her, though I cannot discern if they are real or just imagined.

She was a nymph, a figment, a flitter of gossamer, all in my head. She was my lover, my companion, and only I know why she's dead. I wanted to tell her all of my secrets...but she became one instead.

Velia

Some definitions of the word 'secret' are as follows: separated, hidden, sundered out. Clandestine.

Concealed. That's what her name is. Velia.

She had been too pretty out there under the full sun. Too beautiful to be enjoyed by the world. She is like jasmine, she blooms at night, her skin like marble now under my hands. My Velia, so bewitching to me. Only I get to set that fire in her eyes now, watch the red blood blossom under her skin when I whisper her name. She smells like the morning.

Like 4am in the meadow, that cold morning that winter was just coming into spring and the dew clung to the petals of the wildflowers. She had walked quietly, her dark hair feathered down her back, brushing along the soft curve of the small of her back, that soft curve I have kissed a hundred thousand times, that beautiful part of her that arches when she gives herself to me.

I went to her then, worshipping her amidst the closed flowers and the soft grass. She lay beneath me like water, ethereal and shimmering and white in the glow of the full moon. She was the sea and I was the river. She was perfection.

My Velia. That is what she answers to now, when I reach for her, in the dark.

It was bullshit, but I wanted it to be true. The parlor was decked out with antiques, heavy flowing curtains instead of doors and smelled old, almost moldy. If you were to design such a thing, this would be it. The decor was early 20th century funeral parlor down to the kerosene lamps that burned with shadowy flickers. I sat in a chair, its cushion collapsed uncomfortably down to the wood frame, and waited. I supposed the waiting was part of the bull.

“Madame will see you now,” the young black women said when she appeared through the curtains. She was wrapped in a golden burka with black flowers laced in a myriad of directions as if from a single vine. She looked the part. An apprentice to the scam. I rose and followed.

“Madame is especially powerful tonight,” the woman whispered, “the equinox has opened the pathways wide so do not stray from her instructions.” More bull. It was meant to keep me still and away from investigation. Tricks are easier to deploy if the patsy is immobile and doesn’t look under the covers.

I was led into a small room. There was one candle burning in the middle of a cloth covered table. The flame barely illuminated the black walls. It created an illusion of a light bubble surrounding the table, two chairs and the old woman seated in one of them. The effect was not unexpected.

“Madame,” the young girl bowed slightly, “the client is here.”

The old women looked up from her seat. Her skin was wrinkled like old leather. Her eyes were alert, but they floated in a small pools of red as if they had been strained. A black scarf hid most of her hair. What leaked beneath the scarf was an almost white gray, wispy and thin.

“Sit..sit,” Madam said, her smile didn’t fit the decor. It was the first thing out of place since I entered the building. A grandmother’s smile. It was unexpected. I sat, my own smile trying to mirror hers.

“You seek what you have lost,” Madam stated, “I shall find her for you, but know there are dangers, especially tonight.” ‘Her,’ a good guess. She had a 50-50 shot and since I was male it was more like 80-20. I lost my smile when I sensed the con again.

“Thank you, Trudy,” Madam said as she waved her assistant out of the room. “It is better there are only two minds present. To find Rebecca, we must not clutter the room with more thoughts than necessary.” Unexpected. I never mentioned who I wished to contact. Madam’s smile returned.

“You doubt me,” Madam said, her eyes dancing in the candlelight, “that is understandable. I can feel your hope though. It is strong. Love does that.” I expected her chuckle to be witch-like. It was instead, warm and light. Pleasing to the ear. My smile returned.

My mind was traveling through the con, trying to figure out how she knew of Rebecca. I had paid in cash, hiding my digital identity. Maybe my car. I was parked out front. The licenses plates would have given a talented researcher my address. The same address I had shared with Rebecca. The obituary would have been child’s play from there. It was doable, given the right skills.

“Let it go, Todd,” Madam whispered, “think of her, not your doubts.” A mind reader. Then again, what else would I be thinking of.

“I should probably go,” I said as I stood. I was wrong to think this was anything but a scam. “you can keep the money. This just isn’t for me.” Madam’s use of my name was the last straw. Whatever happened, the con would hit too close to home. It could only damage my memories of Rebecca.

Madam closed her eyes instead of responding. I stood, politely waiting for an acknowledgement of my leaving. When her eyes opened, a tear fell to her cheek. I felt responsible, almost like I made my grandmother cry. I couldn’t be the first person to back out of her scam.

“Rebecca was with child,” Madam said, “a girl.” Her eyes found mine. I could see my pain mirrored in them. I fumbled for my seat. No one but I and Rebecca knew. No one knew it was a girl. I had lost a wife and daughter to the accident. My doubts drifted away.

“I will join you again,” Madam said. The grief on her face was mine. “say what you need, but do not let go of here. You must stay here.” I only heard the part of joining me again. My heart was pumping hard as I began to believe. “Think only of her,” Madam added, her voice drifting to a whisper.

I closed my eyes and let my mind flow back in time. Rebecca was there, the memories still strong. She was so vibrant, the memory of her smile forcing mine to grow. The laughter as we played naked in bed. Her lovely brown eyes that would slow every time she told me she loved me. I could almost feel my fingers combing through her hair.

“My lovely man,” the voice said. My throat caught on a rock. I opened my eyes. Madam’s were closed. A shimmering, just out of the light bubble, coalesced. I stared as the image became the one I knew so well. “My lovely man has found me again,” Rebecca said. Her face was as I remembered, not the mangled thing the oncoming truck had caused. I smiled. I was always her lovely man after we made love.

“I never said goodbye,” I stuttered. My throat didn’t want to cooperate with my tongue. “I never thought we would be apart.” A weak excuse for not telling her I loved her enough. The visage smiled.

“It was never goodbye,” Rebecca said sweetly, “only a delay. I will wait for your time and then we will share eternity.” The thought of eternity with Rebecca in my arms was my heaven.

“I ache for you, sweet girl” I said clearly. I could feel the truth in my bones. I didn’t want the delay. I wanted eternity now. I watched as Rebecca’s eyes became concerned. I reached out toward her, extending my arm into a warmth that defied the rest of the room. Madam grabbed my other wrist.

“You must not,” Madam said, “you must stay here. It is not your time,” I turned toward her and smiled.

“Thank you,” I said. I owed her everything. From the blackness, Rebecca’s hand reached out for mine. Madam quickly released my wrist. I joined my hand Rebecca’s. Euphoria. I felt the beautiful soul of my daughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todd Beckers body slumped lifeless across the table. Madam Severante pushed her chair back, tears staining her eyes. She should not have allowed the joining. The loss had been too recent and the love too strong. She tried to stand, but the strain had been heavy.

“Trudy,” Madam called weakly. It was a moment before Trudy rushed in and helped Madam to her feet. “I was wrong, so very wrong,” Madam muttered.

“He chose,” Trudy said, “you did but join them.”

“I only showed them the path. Their souls had never separated,” Madam sighed.