Writing 101: Word Prompt and Quote

Day 3 of Writing 101 called for Word Prompts I picked three words; Secret, Uncertainty and Love while Day 7 referred to use of quotes. Sometimes on their own or to build up a post. I combined both as a fun way to catch-up to the assignments.
Your comments on this piece are very welcome 🙂


The Uncertainty of Secret Love

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.
Dr. Seuss

It starts simple. A random thought here and there, the sprinkling of love seeds. The slow build of the almost sacred halo around him. The feeling of he can do no wrong and everything right. Slowly the tendrils grow watered by his special smile, scent and passionate words.
Then you wake one morning and he is first on your lips as you greet the morning rays.
The trap has been set.
With horror you realise, as he smiles at you from across, that simple gesture rings bells and butterflies do twisty air flips in your chest.
You are hooked, it’s fills your nights with dreamy highs and awful lows.
Some days you think today maybe he will really see you specially and there are those days that hiding in the earth just wouldn’t justify your pain.
We are just friends is all you need to hear from his lips over a joke to bring the cascade of painful heart tugs.
You think one day you’ll speak up one day you’ll summon the courage to let your heart’s voice out, to stop crushing inside while you smile sweetly and simply.

* * * * * * *
Days, weeks into months. They said it was infatuation, it wouldn’t last give it time.
You’ve counted the minutes and months, the butterflies still reside inside not for one day abating in their heart torment.
The day arrives not any different from yesterday, he takes you to your favourite spot. Orders what you both love, smiles at you and the flutters in your heart build slowly. The sweat in your hands just wouldn’t go, hand fists become involuntary.
The feeling of soaring and falling come in torrents, you know he is getting ready to say something important.
What, dear Lord. What will he say, what will I do if it’s the thought I cannot bear to dwell on.
He stops laughing, looks at you across the table and smiles. His lips part, words float across the air between. Your lungs and heart cease.
Him: Hale, I Really L . . .

The Iron Lady’s Shadow

 “As her mount shifted uneasily under her, she grasped the brim of her old felt Stetson, gazed upwards and remembered Jean Pierre.”
The musty old cologne he layered on every morning just before giving her breakfast. The snide words and hateful banter as she chowed the almost pre-digested slurry he cooked up in the guise of charity.
Right after this daily ritual, the radios came on. All 6 of them. Tuned to all the police channels and one specially for the local crime station. No tv though, he always said it disturbed his chi. The rest of her days with him passed staring at the steel silhouette of the Iron Lady of Paris and the millions of night lights, knowing her home was one of them.
As they said our good nights, she would hear the rattle of the door chains and the frustrated clicks on all the windows. Jean never slept with the windows open. Every click, every night one more away from her family. So close yet so far.
The morning of 4th September, 2061 started with a single click. Teargas flooded the apartment and safety came in the guise of chaos.
6months in the grasp of her kidnapper, an obsessed and closet sociopath.

This was as he said in defense. It was his way of keeping her safe, the next day was supposed to be her day and she would have been saved from this dirty world.
One more day was all remained in his perfect plan to keep Marie safe forever in the afterlife.


Inspired by Mondays Finish the Story – Sept. 7th, 2015

The Reason I Hold A Pen

In my world i’m the superhero and the super villain. I can be as powerful as I wish or as normal so as to blend in on a really stormy day but even in my fantasy world I make mistakes. My short comings still followed me into my dream world, those feisty little green imps. Maybe it’s cause I’m human and will always have shortcomings. I write for so many reasons sometimes it’s to tell myself I can be so much more and I can do anything I make up my mind to do just like my fictional self.
Above all I have a simple saying to sum up all the reasons and moods I write in;

I write to gain clarity of mind ,
To sustain my fountain of youth
Which is imagination.

The topic for Monday on Writing 101 was – Why do you write? My name is Ruby (my online alias) for all intents and purposes and in my mind Dragon riders exist and the world as you know it no longer exists. So tell me why do you write?


Photo courtesy –  https://www.flickr.com/photos/drewcoffman/4815205632

The White Doorway

The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.” 14 acres of past glory, it’s derelict low walls and ornate gate bearing patches of what could pass for paint.
My legs were roaming the little streets of the dead at 3am. White washed little doorways left and right. I took this out of madness, now I’m here this really is madness.
To earn what has been forgotten, go to the forgotten and ask. I knew the shaman meant the cemetery but would this really cure me.
Sit as a Buddha at an empty doorway, knock like the dead. My fainting heart, took a dive when I finally settled in an empty grave, maybe the shaman was the real deal. Huge beads of sweat slowly gathered where my heart should have been as I sat cross legged in the grave.
Offer what the dead can’t get and it will be yours. Breathing in the fresh earth, the moons cold rays reach in as though waiting for me to knock on the door of the dead. I was deep into this, more than 6feet deep judging by the musty smell of marshland the cemetery stood on. I’m supposed to hold the charm head high and chant some words. Raising my hands high, the charm glistened oddly, one hand searched for the scrap of enchantment.
When you knock, fear not for fear feeds the shadows. Closing my eyes, my chant seemed to echo emptiness. The wind raised its howl, my heart faltered, my hands shook and I clenched my eyelids shut. I could sense my hands, warm and shaking and I wasn’t shivering any were else.


Inspired by Mondays Finish The Story: 31st August 2015