Six word stories

Future Bright? 
Money spent : English classes, still jobless!

ouch
 Flower sleeps, nectar denied : Bee stung?

Eluding?

Silent prayers for
success that eludes.
Journey back and forth
on an ever changing road.

Doing whatever it takes
to make time stop still,

if only for a few moments.
To gather baggage and quilt 

to trudge across the finishing line.
The one, that loves playing  vile tricks,

further down the road, it, forever spins.

Proclaim myself victorious,

 to find obstacles strewn across,
 newer, stronger, unexpected.

 Blasphemous messages to ancestors gone,

 return, unheard,

The mocking Gods roll over in mirth,

pointing at this "puny human" in distress.

Curve Ball

Sometimes life throws you a curve ball before you can throw one back.

Everything arranged to perfection, the invites were out.
The surprise party, a celebration of our fifth anniversary.

Today he dropped a bomb, he is seeing someone and wants a divorce.

The report lay unopened on the dressing table, I was finally pregnant.

Submitted to Love in Creativity Project (flash Fiction)

P.S This post for BlueBell Books and the post for the I'll Tumble 4 Ya Blogfest  on feb 10 are the only exceptions to my break from blogging till around Feb 15 or 21.

An Ancient Story Retold

She lay by the lakeside; in the moonlight casting no perceptible shadow  against the glistening waters.  Strangely restless and content, weaving and unweaving  her matted coils…some stangled and twisted to hideous effect or laid as they were. Dark, tangled strings that reflected the  surrounding gloom.

He had escaped far too often, she had let him live the ignorant dream…his scent deadly yet irresistible…his high notes ripping her apart…

 Letting him believe to be the victor in this ancient game she had perfected into an art. The night was their timeless friend, eternal enemy; bewitching , betraying, bespoken…rendering them puppets to mutual desire and hatred.

A secret dance,  feverish  glance lacking tenderness…wine and viper, stillness and motion,  beast and prey circling  in vanity and pride.

Soft footfalls, shodden grass groaning under the slight strain…picture perfect. They waited, glinting eyes and forked tongue for the sweet song to soothe and succumb to, for a little while.

 Medusa and the nightly visitor, her  lover and foe, evenly matched but tonight one would fall , the other would savour a shallow victory…as he played his magical notes, the coils unraveled…inhabiting every inch of the tiny meadow that was their’s alone to claim.

The Muse Ran Off With The Stories - IWSG

The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day for participating blog owners who may be professional or amateur writers. (All you need is the passion and output, published or not). Started by Alex Cavanaugh the author of the sci-fi space opera CassaStar and upcoming CassaFire, it is a means for writers to talk about their fears big and small. It is also an opportunity to connect to other writers who may have conquered these or are sailing in the same insecure boat as you.

There was a little girl who was a bit different, impulsive, hot tempered, rebellious dreaming false worlds when she should have been studying some more. The daydreams grew larger, more verbose and sometimes silly. As the space between the grey cells shrunk, she took to writing on pieces of paper... some saved, some frittered away carelessly...she never showed them to anyone lest she be mocked at by the uncaring. Then it happened, the stuff that her fears were made of. Unlike other kindred spirits, the more she read others, the less pieces of her own got written till a day when the dreams knew better and took flight to the nether regions of her mind, a self  imposed exile.

Time flew, walked, crawled, the dreams peeked out now and then and verses took shape that were protected fiercely for years and yet the best ones cast one day into the fire of battered self esteem (especially the ones dedicated to her fiancé-husband who broke her spirit)....and then after years of grey bleakiness, the tumultuous life led her back to the road she had long ago abandoned, the only one left she could travel through, to save her sanity.

 The journey was risky, shaky, encouraged by loved ones who had secretly read her amateur works. And just when the adventure was getting to be fun, lady luck decided to play games again.

And lo behold,
 The Twin, The  Muse Ran Away....
leaving behind a sci fi that is just about a quarter complete, a fantasy barely written, a poetry collection due for e publishing in March with quite a few missing pages, short stories to be drafted and rewritten from scratch.
She filled a complaint with the "Missing Muses Retrieval" writers club in December but yet to hear from them.
Anyone who sees 'Reka Sang' slouching around in the upper decks of cyber space, do cajole her to come back please...as said she is moody and cantankerous, gets offended easily. Will this be enough praise to melt her heart??

Penned bold thoughts /

Heart never speaks of /

Love this muse //

 3-5-3

 This is how the Muse looked when they last met....maybe the lady should check Facebook, for sure she is whiling away time with those mindless games or the news rooms where she is flirting with the big boys.

 The strain of these online searches and researching in her absence simply translates into
 "The Girl/woman is taking a blogging break for two to three weeks" beginning tomorrow.