Writing Challenge ~ 1st - 16th September 2011

WRITING CHALLENGE ~ SEPTEMBER 2011 ~ PART ONE​

Britwitch sneaks in to start this month's challenge, looking guilty for not managing to post August's challenge

Here’s this month’s first prompt...


You can involve the prompt itself in your piece and make your link to the prompt as obvious or as subtle as you like or use it simply as inspiration for something else. You can use part of the prompt, just one aspect of the image, or use it in its entirety.

The word limit for this challenge is 3,500 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 – Writing Challenge Review Thread

The deadline for this month’s challenge is Friday 16th September 2011, with the second prompt ‘going live’ on Saturday 17th!

Previous challenges and reviews can be found here.

Happy writing!

Josie spent the time enjoying the feel of light fabrics against her clean skin. As soon as she got home, she lowered herself into a warm bubble bath, and simply floated until the water grew cold. To simply lie still, undisturbed and not on edge waiting for someone to shatter the all encompassing serenity. She giggled to herself at how significant that small luxury had become during her time away.

When Josie got out of the bath, she felt clean in a way that defied logic. During her time overseas, she showered as regularly as she needed, but it didn't have the same feel to it. She didn't spend too much time thinking about the reasons for the differences. She dried herself quickly, and found something to wear.

Of course, being out of her home for the past three years meant that it was stuffy when she opened the front door. Windows were opened to let air circulate, and every door inside was wedged open to maximize the air flow. Coming out of the bath, she was also greeted with a much nicer smelling house. But as she went to sit down on the bed, she saw that opening the window may not have been the best of ideas. The wind decided to leave her some welcome home gifts that she could have done without.

The window happened to allow some light into her bedroom, which helped to warm up the room. Her thin lace top let the sun's gentle warmth pass through to her skin, bathing it in the same gentle manner the bath water had done earlier. But her hand reached for one of the leaves that lay scattered on her bed. Her fingers brushed the dry, fragile leaf that lay there. Once part of a mightier living thing, it was no longer needed, and in order to preserve the greater living being, it was sacrificed; let go to drift off, wither and die.

Josie wiped away a tear that formed from that thought. The images were too strong, the pain too near to her heart. She was just home, and all she wanted was to relax a little before facing the world anew. That was why her hair was left to fall from her head, to touch her back once more in the way she adored so much. The length her mother liked too; long enough to do many things with it, but not long enough to be too much of a hassle. Josie also loved how it felt when her mother brushed her hair. That gentle tug of the passage of the brush through her hair reminded her of her mother's love. The quiet time they shared as her mother groomed her. The simple bonding time between mother and daughter.

"I must make some time to go and see her again. I'd love to see her, and I am certain that she would love to see me too."

Again, her hand found the leaf. Dry. Brittle. Dessicated. Just like she felt in that moment. Tears flowed again, this time from a different source. Bradley. They had been a couple full of life, love and passion. She loved the times when he scooped her up, then threw her on the bed, frantically removing her clothing. His mouth would scald her already heated flesh as he tasted every bit of her that he exposed. He would continue to use his mouth until there was nothing left in Josie's mind but the overwhelming need. She would be so overwhelmed by the intense feelings that there would be no real coherent thought. Her awareness of anything else would vanish under his expert attention. Only then, he would spear her, pressing her down with his full weight. Not even that blanket of solid flesh would keep her from accelerating higher and higher until she exploded from the pressure of the joy within her. Brad would remind her of his presence when she felt his heat splash within her, and she would barely hear the loud cry of joy.

But then there were days when she would pin him against the wall. She would roughly unveil him, letting her lips slide over the planes, ridges and furrows of his body. He was a natural man, shaped by physical labour. He smelled like a man how worked hard, which drover her made at times. Still, she would not stop. Her hands would leave his long enough to free him of more of his clothing, then she would pin his arms to the wall again. The time she enjoyed the most was the freeing of his monolith of masculinity. How proud it stood, declaring to all that he was a red blooded male, potent and virile. How she loved to take him in her mouth, tease him mercilessly until she either brought him to his peak, tasting the richness of his gift, or dragging him to the floor, straddling him and using him to take herself to heaven many times before finally letting him get his release too.

Tears came to her eyes once more, as she remembered those times when they made love to each other. Long hours in bed, touching, kissing, caressing. They would stoke the fires in each other slowly and tenderly. Then they would eventually join, and the slow expression of love would continue until they both gifted each other with expressions of their deep felt love for each other. But they would continue to stay together, kissing, caressing each other, swapping tender words and strengthening their bonds.

But it was not to be. Her career, her calling, had broken them up, and as hard as they tried, it didn't survive. They kept in contact, and she knew that he had found someone else, married and soon to be a father. Again, the leaf touching her hand reminded her of her life. The fragile emotions she carried. The long dried out and dead love life. The feeling barren like the tree that once held the leaf she now fleetingly held.

Again, the barren tree that shed the leaves to allow it to survive the long harsh winter. How the small leaves were sacrificed for the greater to live. How many times she saw the same happen while she was away. Sacrifices left to die so that which was greater than they could continue to live. Men, some little older than boys, defying the efforts of others to keep them alive, passed away. Men fighting those that threatened the their home. These men she nursed to health, or tried to nurse to help.

Each leaf was a reminder of those servicemen. Each one of the leaves was dead. Each leaf would lay somewhere, gone, never to take part in the life of the country, the 'tree' from which they came. Like the leaves, they lay scattered across the land, resting in different places. And like those leaves on her bed, he was helpless to stop their deaths too.

One leaf was selected, raised to between the sun and her eyes. So much detail was there for her to see. But like those dead and discarded she saw not so long ago, this leaf once helped the tree grow and remain healthy. They too, helped their 'tree' grow, and remain healthy and strong. Holding the leaf, she forgot about what is was there and then. Her mind painted it green, lush and full of the life that helped it keep the mighty tree growing. Her eyes closed, and the broken, torn and shattered bodies became whole again, vibrant young men who would live on in her mind as virile young men.

The cycle of the seasons. Birth, growth, aging and death. She stood up, holding the leaf, carrying it to the window. She stared at the thin, brown object cupped in her hands. "Thank you. It's going to be a hard lesson to apply, but I will do my best." She kissed the brittle shape, lifting and separating her hands. The wind came from nowhere, lifting the leaf, carrying it away from her sight.

One by one, the other leaves join it on their final journey, leaving her alone once more in her bedroom.

Dryads

There are few who know the freedom of the dryads. The strength in deep roots, the dexterity of limber branches, the joy of budding flowers. There are few who know the frailty of the dryads. The pain in being uprooted so easily, the inevitable arthritis of withered boughs, the sorrow of fallen leaves. There are few who know the cycle of the dryads, burgeoning into powerful forces of nature only to fade into obscurity. There are few who know the trials of the dryads, the ever-enclosing circle of civilization pressing in on the edges of their domain. There are few who know the triumph of the dryads, existing even in the smallest parts of nature, bursting through the concrete jungle that has encased their homes.

There are few who know the secrets of the dryads, but just one touch from the crisp leaves of autumn's first breeze is all she needs to glean the knowledge from the trees.

It was a quiet place. Would have been a hole in the wall back home but here, where she was now, it was a haven. She traveled here to see him, to hear his voice in person, to smell his skin, see his eyes sparkle and feel. Just feel him.

Picking at leaves she waited in dawns renewing light for her heart to slow down, for time to tick its way to that moment which she's been waiting for. Many miles past and he was only blocks away now. He didn’t know it though.

She didn't tell him she was coming. She didn’t want to see him expectant. She only told him that she wouldn’t be online for a few weeks but the time would pass quickly and she would see him soon.

Taking a deep breath she slid into her sandals and stood on shaking legs. Would he recognize her in person, he said he would.

Two blocks, it was only to blocks but they were the longest in her entire life. She walked so slow knowing he would be cresting that small hill on his way back from his morning walk. She was walking up it from the far opposite end. If she timed it right and their paths would cross at the end of his driveway.

She almost tripped when he came into view, she was shaking, she wanted to run. He was off in thoughts carrying his Ipod. The little buds carrying sounds to his ears. Her feet almost stuck to the ground and floated away at the same time. What would he say? What would he do? Would he be happy? Would he turn her away?

Almost there... so close she could hear him almost singing along with a song. She thought she would scream if he didn’t look up soon, see her there almost to his driveway, almost to him... almost excruciating pain.

Apparently they put water meters in the sidewalks. She was walking, hadn’t taken her eyes off him until the earth moved out from under her step. Literally, painfully just gone. She hit the ground surprised that she actually kept her face from smashing concrete. Laughter boiled out of her chest, rolling herself onto her back she laughed at the clear blue sky.

God her ankle hurt but all the emotion she had trapped from being this close to meeting him kept her from feeling most of it. Tears ran as freely as birds overhead. Still just the thought of coming this far and falling. Not for him but flat on her face made her laugh all the more and close her eyes tight with embarrassment as the sound of foot falls brought him closer.

“Miss? Are you alright Miss?” It was his voice. Unmistakeably his. She could barely halt her racing heart much less her giggles long enough to stammer out: “My ankle”. Her eyes cracked open just in time to see a flash of disbelief run across his, yes his face. His lips went thin and he shook his head. Directing his attention to her legs he looked over her ankle. His hand reached out for her ankle and stopped twice before she watched him take a deep breath and just scooped her up off the ground. “Lets get you inside and get you iced, it doesn’t look good.” His voice was gravely and soft.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook breathing in all that was him as he turned and walked them up his drive. He smelled like shaving soap and pancakes, syrup and sunshine. He smelled like something she could get lost in. When she found her voice it was soft and shy and cracked just a little. “You know I always thought if I fell for you, you would catch me.”

His arms tightened around her and she thought he had tripped himself but no. His arms crushed her to him as he sat them down, right then, right there in the driveway. He was shaking. His cheek found hers and through his shaking breath she heard: “God, it is you.”

Alone.

Alone and half naked.

That is how he left her after coming to fuck her for the last time.

***

The life in the city was too much for them. The rush, the pollution, the noise... So they decided to move to the country.

A small cottage with a large garden full of trees where birds landed and sang. That is where they had been living for the last three months.

They were happier than ever. They felt like they were alone in the world and they were enjoying their relationship. He would come home and take her to the bedroom in his arms. They would make love with the windows open, the sun coming into the room, the sound of birds flowing... Such a bucolic scene.

But that day was different.

He was not as romatic as usual. He grabbed her wrist and almost dragged her to the room. The window was open but there was no sun that day. The wind was flowing and from time to time a dry leaf came into the room. No birds singing either. It was like nature was warning her.

And he made love to her. But in a quite rough way. He didn't even bother to take her shirt off. It was like they were back in their tenth floor apartment on sixth avenue. He came quite fast, not giving her time to enjoy any of it. And instead of cuddling up next to her he started to get dressed.

"I'm going back to the city, Mary. I know you like it here but I'm tired of this."

No more explanations. Not even a goodbye kiss.

He left her.

Alone.


-----

My first story. Quite a short one, but that is someplace to start .)​

Dessicated

Waiting

Waiting hurt the most.

Would he come back?

Did he want to come back?

Did he need to come back?

Crushing the leaves in her hand

At least brings her some control.

The dessicated vegetable matter succumbing to her vibrance.

Her strength.

Her soul.

Unlike him.

No control.

No worth.

No….relevance.

She couldn’t lie there for ever,

Could she?

Without him, at least she could.

Not couldn’t like he always wanted.

Always couldn’t.

She could do what she wanted with the leaves.

He couldn’t take that away from her.

Could he?

She could do something without him.

Do….something.

Crush leaves.

The leaves bear the brunt of her fleeting new-found strength.

He’s not there.

It’s only because he’s not there that she has any strength.

If he was there….

No strength.

To disobey him.

To debate.

To play the mind-games he always played.

Always playing.

It made her tired.

It made her numb.

She complied.

She followed.

Following a wrong path is still following a path, she thought,

It was better than stagnating, standing still.

The path meant action, a way out.

But a path with a leader….

Who treats you like a toy,

A piece of meat,

A soulless husk means….

No direction.

He didn’t care.

She was the suck of a water bottle as he tread the path.

She was a snack to re-energise on.

Her energy flowed to him and drained out of her.

A zero sum game.

If he was not willing to give her anything,

Then she was losing something

And eventually everything.

He became more than what he was before.

She became less.

A shell.

Pining.

Crushing leaves in her bed.

Alone.

She could crush the leaves.

She could have control.

Of them.

But it wouldn’t bring him back.

Ever.

So she sits,

Crushing leaves.

Dried.

Dessicated.

Dead.

Like her.

Autumn

Sandra sat on her bed, freshly dressed having come from the bath. He hand ran idly through the wind blown collection of dried leaves scattered across her covers. Pausing to push her raven hair back, she picked up on of the leaves and looked at the dry, brittle example of once life giving vegetation.

When she first awoke, and was trained, when she looked at a leaf such as that, all she would have seen was the death of the leaf, and it's subsequent decay. She would have seen the necessity of the leaf's death, but little more. She had taken lives, as her training and beliefs dictated, but she cared little for those that met the good death at her hands.

That was before she met him. Adrian.

She had heard of the life mages, and how they viewed those of her kind. There had been many arguments, and more than one feud over the differences when it came to the living beings. But not him. He knew her for what she was, and it made no difference to him. He talked to her about her views and beliefs. He never told her that they were wrong, but he challenged her at every turn. He made her think about it all, question it herself, look deeper into her own self to see what it really meant to her.

He was the first person to see her as a person. He was the first one who was gentle with her, even when he pushed her to her limits. She would get so angry when talking with him, but never at him. It was mostly with herself. Like the vines, he broke through, and broke down her walls and got to see who was hiding in there. She fell for him, and not long after, he showed her another kind of death - the little death.

Sandra turned the leaf, seeing not a death, but a release. The leaf had served its purpose, and had gone through the natural span of its life to be released from its burdens and gain its reward. If it were a fully sentient being, like the tree that it once supported, it would return anew to continue the cycle. After meeting Adrian, she never killed. She released the one she found. Sometimes, death wasn't involved, just some great change. But when every she granted the good death, she mourned their passing, then rejoiced at the knowledge that they would come back again, carrying a small fragment of wisdom from their previous time that would make their next life even better.

Like all things, her time with Adrian came to an end. She was not saddened by that, for she knew that the Fates had someone else for her, and she would meet them soon. But Adrian reminded her of why she had been gifted, and chosen to walk the path she had. Many of her brethren were slowly being tangled in the black strands of death, becoming more like the dark robed one rather than the bearers of the guiding light. She learned how to embrace the darker side to help give the benefits of the lighter side.

Falling leaves. The sign to Persephone to return to Hades' side. Time for the barrenness of the land to come, paving the way for the bloom of spring that heralded Persephone's return. That's what Sandra did, help those in their autumn move onto the their winter, so that they may one more know the joys of spring again.

Sandra stood up, and started a slow dance with her delicate, brown skinned partner, thanking him for his great gifts; bring life to another, and passing on to make way for another to grant the same gift.