The White Raven

White raven flew free in the sky. In the forest the hunter watched white raven. his heart beat wild with jealousy. White Raven peered at the man, with his sparkling eyes and beautiful smile. The Hunter knocked his bow. Raven flew down, as her talons touched the earth magic bright as the sun spilled forth and raven stood as woman with white feathered hair. The hunter loosed his arrow and it speared the woman’s heart. Red, red blood spilled upon the earth. Hunter cried and dropped his bow. A black raven stood where white raven died. Feathers black as sorrow.

a gift of roses

She held his gift of roses in her hand, pale snow white petals, with no hint of perfume. Beautiful blooms lifeless as stone . She gripped the flowers with angry hands, black thorns biting into flesh. She threw the roses to ground and cradled her wounded hand. Bright red drops of living blood splashed the milk white roses. And Alice began to laugh, “Painting the roses red for the Queen of Hearts.” she giggled kneeling down to smear scarlet blood across the dead moon-white petals. “Off with his head.” She bared her teeth in a rictus grin of killing rage.

Midnight Butterflies

In the garden where the butterflies slept, hidden among the blooms, a girl danced in a white lace gown. The moon hangs low in velvet fabric of the sky, and the stars let down their brittle light. The cloying sent of night blossoming jasmine and gardenia perfume the air. Dewdrops sparkle like jewels.
Green grass, sharp as the finest blade, that cuts deep.
Droplets of scarlet on white.
A whispering of gossamer wings.
A flutter of night dark butterflies fill the air.
Butterflies with angry mouths and sharp white teeth.
An anguished cry as the butterflies feed on crimson blood.


*the image was a clipart butterfly that I messed about with and added the blood spatter. The image wasn't for this drabble its for a short story I haven't written but when I finished making the picture the scene for the drabble popped into my brain so I had to write it.

addiction

Adam walked back and forth, back and forth, like a caged and wounded beast. His hands trembled as he reached for the book. 'No....' a voice screeched, and he wasn't sure if it was his own or not. The book sat there, the cover hand stitched, the pages brittle, the ink faded. Adam turned his back on the book. 'No, no, no....you don't need it. You can live without it…for one day!' but the book sat there and it pulled and pulled at him. Adam twitched. He dragged trembling fingers through his long tangled hair. 'Just one more spell.'

written for the Chimera Writing Group Drabble Prompt: Addiction

O Death

The woman sat in the corner facing the door, the shining tips of her knitting needles flashing. Red wool wound about her fingers and she cast on and began to knit. The door opened and a man stood before her, clothes covered in dirt, and crusted old blood, yellow fangs splitting his mouth in a sinister grin. With preternatural speed the vampire pounced and the woman plunged her needles into his chest. The vampire’s pale hands clawing at the silver and oak needles piercing his cold dead heart.

“My name is Death and the end is here….” the woman smiled.


Music: O Death sung but Jen Titus for the Supernatural season 5 promo

chimera book and writing group drabble prompt: music

a house of chocolate

As far as witches go Belinda wasn’t great. Her sisters built a gingerbread house and a candy house, to lure plump young children Belinda found children far too greasy for her tastes. Belinda liked soap, perfume, was afraid of heights and never flew her broom but used it to keep a tidy cottage. .And when Belinda build a house of chocolate, only thing it attracted was housewives kept nibbling the gables and brickwork, and Belinda had the terrible habit of making friends with them instead of turning them to toads. . In short as a witch Belinda was a disgrace.Post Options

Trinity

“You can’t keep doing this, its insane. Normal people just don’t go around murdering people for a living.” Cordelia said pointing at the guns spaced across the bed. “Eric talk to her she isn’t listening to me.” Cordelia glared at her brother leaning against the door.
“Its none of our business” Eric grit between clenched teeth.
“Its my job.” B said the black butterfly tattoo on her back stark against pale skin as she reached for a gun.
“Its mad!”
“We all do what we have to to survive. Death is a bitch.. and now we're all sons of bitches."

On July 16th 1945 Kenneth Bainbridge, leaned close to Robert Oppenheimer and said "Now we're all sons of bitches." immediately after the first atom bomb test explosion at Alamogordo, New Mexico’s Trinity Site.

Night

Grey wheat turned into a muddy ruin, the mud dragging me down with every step. I fell into black earth, the sack of food stuffs burst and sunk into the mood. I dragged myself up and gathered what tins and packets I could pull free of the black mud. The light was fading, clouds obscuring the orange ball of the setting sun at my back. I ran east across the field to the uncertain sanctuary of an abandoned farmhouse. Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me. And with the dark came nightmare made flesh and bone.

Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me. --HG Wells from the War of the Worlds

Chimera Writing group prompt: quote