The Teapot Nebula

Gunslinger

2012-01-17T10:56:00.000-08:00

He sat down placing his hat on the table beside him and removed his six-shooter from its leather holster. A lamp burned warmly on the table of rough hewn pine, scarred and stained but still serving its purpose. Oil, rags and bullets sat on the table. He took the weapon apart piece by piece. His mind wandered over the past, the lives taken and saved with the same gun. He was no longer sporting tin. He left that life to rust in a grave beside a cabin and a skeletal tree. He lived a new life but some things remain.

book group prompt: Gunslinger.

Also a tiny bit of a Tin Man fanfic, Cain of course.

a journal entry

2011-09-27T11:18:00.000-07:00

Journal entry September 27^th 2025,

The world ended, but not by us, first contact. Fucking aliens. They sent out ships and seeded the world with bio-mechanical creatures that ate our weapons and electricity. There is no power, no plastic, all the cities are gone and nothing left of society. Ding dong the internet is dead, big oil is gone, mobil phones, all the damn bankers, ninety percent of the population and every silicon chip. They came and ate the world and spit out a new one.

The God Technology is dead long live the Gods of Fire, Steam and Darkness.

Chimera writing prompts: a letter and post apocalypse

the red death ball

2011-09-13T11:13:00.000-07:00

The girl stood with her velvet gloved fingers pressing against dark wood and black iron. The sound of music and laughter drifted from beneath the door. ‘Let me in.’ she called. The girl blinked back tears. The door was locked tight. She gripped the folds of her cream coloured gown and knelt on the icy stone steps. She peered through the keyhole as screams filled the air. The girl pulled back with a cry, horror shining in her eyes. Her paste diamond masque fell to the earth as red blood seeped beneath the locked doors, and screams echoed all around.

written while listening to Hanna Pestle's Red Death Ball which was inspired by Masque of the Red Death

the owl

2011-08-02T11:18:00.000-07:00

The grey owl was hidden by a dusty layer of dirty snow as it perched huddled on a rusty car. The owl was betrayed by the slow blink of his green eyes. I gripped my basket tightly rummaging in the rusting hulks of dead cars. ‘Fly away.’ I thought furiously pulling at a tangle of copper wire, the cold metal burning through my frayed leather gloves. In the distance the blocky shapes of the city. A chain-link fence ran around the perimeter of the city to keep the infected inside. I shuddered and touched the rifle hanging on my shoulder.

quarantine prompt

Pink

2011-07-05T05:52:00.000-07:00

Pink. Not the colour of flowers but of sunburnt blistered skin. The first colour they could remember for days of walking the grey smoke. Black road gave way to desert sand. A splash of dried black blood stained the sand beside the bloated corpse. The body twitched and gurgled. A shot rang out echoing along the valley. The head burst apart raining down chunks of diseased black and grey brain on the white sand. No words were spoken as the group circled round the headless remains. A few brave children threw stones at the headless corpse, silently mouthing ‘zombie’.

Winter Blues

2011-02-15T04:47:00.000-08:00

Winter stood with her back against the black bark of a tree, body nestled in the tangle of black roots. The forest floor was covered in black leaves and piles of snow. The grey skies pelted down shards of ice. Sharp as glass. A line of crimson welled up across her cheek. Winter swore softly and grabbed a handful of brackish leaves to cover her cheek. In the distance dogs howled and Winter pulled her woollen cloak close fingers laced through the corded blue bag at her waist. Winter smiled grimly as she slipped a dagger from her blue boot.

Chimera drabble prompt: Winter Blues

three things

2011-02-01T11:15:00.000-08:00

Three things, a quick dash round the supermarket. James crumpled up the list and shoved it in his coat. Milk, apples, coffee. James made his way down the aisles randomly filling his basket, ipod blaring, head nodding to the music reading the back of a cereal packet. James bumped into an empty trolley, ‘Sorry’ He mumbled. Trolleys were scattered about the store, shelves of food scattered across the floor. A tin of beans rolled past. An old woman shuffled round the corner, skin green, mouth covered in blood that dripped down her chin. ‘Hello?’ Jamie gulped. ‘coffee’s on aisle three?.’

book club prompt 'plague'

tears of ink

2010-07-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

The library demon tends to books unwanted, abandoned, stolen and cursed. Books that weep their sorrows in tears of black ink. They sit neatly lined on black painted shelves darkly lit library. She lends her books with a smile, but she will keep your soul on hold. And if you steal you may find yourself weeping ink on a shelf.

The library demon dresses in newspaper and lace, with shining buttons onyx black and heart’s blood red. She never eats. She drinks only inky tears. She dreams nightmares in black and white. A forest of words and leaves of paper.

chimera drabble prompt: leaves

something that has beens wirling about my brain. I used part of this for one of my doll stories on my meridianaril blog but I have tears of ink stuck in my head still so may twist it into something else again.

green moon

2010-06-08T11:09:00.000-07:00

I woke in the shadows curled beneath the arms of an oak tree. The earth smelled of dead leaves and copper. Naked I stumbled, frozen grass splintering beneath bare feet. The moon hung low, a sickly green orb smiling down on night. I crouched at the edge of the water, surface still as glass. I reached out for the moon’s watery reflection and saw my own pale face. Darkness dripped from my mouth, trailing down my moon white skin. I licked my lips and tasted salt and copper. Blood is black in moonlight. A wolf howled. The wolf was me.

The Red Necklace

2010-06-01T10:59:00.000-07:00

Lord Lucian lived in a beautiful manor house in the countryside. His coffers were filled with gold and silver, silks and spices, and the finest jewels in the land. The rooms of the house were filled with art, beautifully crafted furniture, Persian carpets, silken walls, ancient artefacts and heavy leather bound books.

In the gallery hung a series of portraits men and women, the men were all darkly handsome and beside each man, a woman with sad eyes dressed in rubies and silver.

A young servant fell in love with his master’s bride to be. He wooed her with roses, and peppermint creams. He asked her to run away with him and she agreed.

He crept into his master’s chamber and stole a necklace of black metal and glittering diamonds.

The young man wrapped the necklace of diamonds around her slender neck. Together the young lovers ran through the twists and turns of the great house. They ran and ran but each turn brought them back to the same hall, the same carved door at the end of the house, the master’s bedroom.

The door opened on silent hinges and as it did so the servant’s bride collapsed to the floor fingers digging at her pale neck, colour fading from her cheeks, terror shined in her eyes.

The diamonds around her neck bit deep, a thousand glittering teeth biting into pale flesh. Drops of crimson blood dripped down her neck as the necklace cut deeper, the diamonds colouring the pale pink of new dawn. Her lover pulled at the necklace, rough fingers tearing at the delicate necklace. He watched with silent horror as the life bled out of his love.

The diamonds turned to blood rubies. He held his bride’s cold body crying silent tears. Lord Lucian stepped from the shadows, silver and black cane glinting in the muted light before it crashed down onto the servant’s head. Lucian laughed as he tore the glistening ruby necklace from the bride’s throat.

As the servant lay in a growing pool of blood, his fingers grasping at his bride’s cold fingers. Lord Lucian opened the door at the end of the hall. The room behind was bathed in light, in a chair sat a woman in a white silken gown, her long golden hair piled atop her head, pale skin, sunken eyes that stared lifelessly at the servant. The corpse bride’s paper dry lips were peeled back in a pearly white smile.

Lucian stepped behind his bride and wrapped the gleaming ruby strand around her lifeless neck. A whispering noise filled the room, a sound of dry leaves and death, the sound of the corpse bride laughing. And as the corpse laughed the blood drained from the stones, until once more diamonds shone and the corpse flesh filled out, golden hair shining in the candle light, black eyes shining, skin a delicate cream, cheeks a delicate rose. Lord Lucian kissed his beautiful laughing bride as the light faded from the servant’s eyes.

The White Raven (first draft)

2010-02-23T11:05:00.000-08:00

The White Raven flew high above the trees, twisting and turning singing her joy to the sun. In the forest below a hunter stood on the moss at the edge of a spring of sweet water. The raven flew down, her wingtips rippling the surface of the water. Ivory feathers a blaze of white in the forest gloom. Sharp claws scratched against stone as she landed on a smooth grey rock at the edge of the pool of clear water. The raven tilted her head to the side, observing the hunter with winter blue eyes.

The hunter nodded to the raven and wandered into the deep woods in search of his game. The white raven followed. The forest was bountiful, deer, elk, hares, grouse, and ptarmigan fell to the hunter’s bow. The raven made a game of following the hunter, hopping from tree to tree, gliding above the forest and diving down to scare game from tall grass and thickets. Each night the hunter and the raven met at pool. The hunter would cut small gobbets of flesh from his kills and offer them to the raven perched on her rock.

The white raven fell in love with the hunter. She wove the wild magic of the forest to change her shape. The raven stood in human form, glowing white skin, and winter blue eyes, and feather soft hair the colour of snowy white wings.

As the moon rose the hunter crept through the forest to the pool. Standing on the rock arms raised to the heavy moon the white raven stood in her pale human guise. The hunter covered the girl with his cape and took her home as his bride.

The raven was happy in the small cottage in the forest with her husband the hunter. She bore seven children, four sons and three daughters with milk white skin and downy hair white as new fallen snow. White raven was a good wife, loving and kind, but she held her secrets and would not speak of where she came from or how she appeared at the pool in the forest or where she went on the days she went walking among the trees.

One autumn, when leaves tumbled from the trees, the sun was warm, but the wind smelled of winter the hunter’s wife disappeared into the woods. The hunter was furious that his wife was gone. He left the children alone in the cottage and searched every path through the twisting woods. Creeping from shadow to shadow, boots silent on the leaf strewn forest floor, the hunter scoured the forest. Morning turned to noon, noon to dusk and still there was no sign of his beloved wife. The trees opened up and the hunter found himself standing on the edge of the pool shaking with fury as he held his bow in his hands. The forest was silent all around, no leaves whispered on the wind, no squirrels chittering in the trees, or birds singing in the sky.

The white raven perched on the smooth grey stone beside the water, wings stretched out in the sunlight. The hunter was angry and notched an arrow in his bow. The raven folded her wings and looked at him with a winter blue eye.

The hunter loosed his arrow. It flew true across the still pool reflecting in the icy chill of the water. The arrow pierced the raven’s snowy white breast. The raven cried as red blood flowed across her white feathers and dripped onto the cold grey rock. As the white raven fell light filled the clearing brighter than the sun, the hunter hid his eyes, and when the light faded a woman lay on the rock, an arrow piercing the heart of his beautiful wife.

The hunter stumbled to the rock and held her as she lay dying. The clearing filled with the rush of wings and seven white ravens plummeted from the sky, they circled around the hunter and his dying bride before landing on the mossy ground. The hunter gazed with grief stricken eyes as the ravens transformed into seven small children. They turned sad eyes to their mother, faces solemn as they ripped the arrow from their mother’s chest. The eldest held the arrow and dropped it into his father’s hands. The world shifted and pulsed as the children changed small feathered bodies taking flight.

White feathers turned black. The colour of their sorrow.

the end

flint

2010-02-10T04:22:00.000-08:00

Hand in hand we crossed the road, and the steep ditch to step lightly onto the newly tilled field. Black earth turn brown in the warm spring sun. Walking at my father’s side, eyes on the ground scanning back and forth, examining each mound of dirt. Looking for the telltale rounded shape of a bead, the long cylinder of a broken pipe, a discarded arrowhead. Tiny fragments of history, laying in the drying dirt in freshly tilled field. An edge of flint, glinting dully in the morning sun. Small hands digging in soft dirt. Muddy footprints, laughter, a treasure found.

(a memory from when I was small)

The White Raven

2009-12-01T12:35:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-18T04:12:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-13T06:33:00.000-08:00

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

2009-09-29T02:57:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-08T10:44:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-01T09:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-18T11:23:00.000-07:00

“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

2009-08-18T04:48:00.000-07:00

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

in a Dark Dungeon

2009-08-04T03:05:00.000-07:00

Dean woke in the dark head pounding, blunt fingers brushing the gash at his temple; the wound still wept blood in a sluggish trickle. “Sam?” he whispered looking around the dark room. “Sammy?”
“Yeah I’m here.”
“Where are we?”
“This is an oubliette, labyrinth's full of 'em” Sam recited as he cracked his head on the ceiling.
“Really. I didn't know that.”
“Oh don't act so smart. You don't even know what an oubliette is.” Sam grimaced
“Do you?” Dean spit out.
“Yes. It's a place you put people... to forget about 'em!”
“Dude this is...”
“Don’t!”
“Awesome”
Sam swore.

Chimera Drabble Prompt: Dungeon

disclaimer: Labyrinth and Supernatural aren't mine this was written for amusement only.. based on an old converstation with Flame.

wolf

2009-07-28T11:14:00.000-07:00

Six bullets left. I gripped the gun tightly in my right hand and settled in against the trunk of the tree. A cold wind blew across the clearing and into my face, it smelled of snow and ice. A storm was brewing, over the distant mountains. If I was lucky I would still be alive when it reached the tree I perched on. If I wasn’t lucky, well it doesn’t matter does it. I check the revolver again, six bullets gleamed silver in the faint light as the moon rose, bloated and yellow. The first howl echoed across the clearing.

Chimera Writing prompt: wolf

The House on Blackbird Road

2009-07-12T01:32:00.000-07:00

In the house at the end of Blackbird road, with the peeling grey paint, that may once have been the blue of ocean waves. With dark wooden floors and damask velvet walls, ceilings dark and filled with a macabre carnival of spider webs. Dead chandeliers that drip dusty jewels, the stairs that creak as you climb up and up to nowhere at all. There is little black key, in a hidden door, in the peeling damask paper at the end of the hall. Phantoms whisper secrets and lies in the shadows, in the house at the end of Blackbird road.

Cherry

2009-06-30T11:22:00.000-07:00

Title: Cherry
Author: Apryl
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam, Impala
Rating: PG
Warnings: vaguely Season 4, nothing spoilery
Word Count: 100
Disclaimer: not mine, never mine, *is poor*
Notes: Sam is driving and Dean is asleep as they drive North on the I-5.

“Dean woke with a start, head pressed against the window, trail of drool running down his chin. A green sign flashes past in the headlights *”Welcome to Oregon we’ve got trees” Dean grimaces and tried to close his eyes again, but then he hears it.

It felt so wrong it felt so right

With dawning horror Dean turned to look at Sam in the driver’s seat, fingers tapping on the steering wheel singing along quietly.

“The taste of her cherry chap….”

“Dude ….seriously?!?” Dean growls.

“Er.. I”

“You’re such a girl Sammy.”

I kissed a girl and I …

click

Darling Buds

2009-06-30T07:25:00.000-07:00

“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.”
“What?”
“It’s a line from a Shakespearian sonnet.”
“A bonnet?”
“No a sonnet, a poem by Shakespeare the Bard, the greatest writer in the history of the English Language.”
“Poetry is for losers.”
“Poetry is a form of literary art, it has heart , meaning, cultural significance..”
“Culture like them things they grow in the labs?”
“Culture as in society, humanity, people”
“Labs is where they make the viruses that’ll turn us all to zombies.”
“I don’t know why I try”
“Do ya think zombies write poetry? I’d read that.”
“Er…No.”

Chimera writing group prompt: bud

Day and Night

2009-06-23T10:43:00.000-07:00

Twin sisters were born on the Summer Solstice, one born in light the other born as darkness fell. As time passed the sisters grew. Day was earthly and fair with flaxen gold hair, a smile warm as sun, and eyes the colour of summer skies. Night was otherworldly and moonlight pale, her hair the colour of a raven’s wing, a smile hinting of magic and wickedness, and eyes that glinted black. At dusk, Night awoke, and the sisters ate honeyed cakes, drank tea from silver cups. Soon Day dreamed as Night sang with the wolves and danced in the moonlight.

Chimera Book and Writing Group Drabble Prompt: Day and Night

Calista

2009-06-23T09:17:00.000-07:00

Calista danced back at the edge of the shadow creeping across the room, the line between light and dark. The day receded back as the shadows consumed the light. Calista stood in the narrowing band of sunlight, thinner and thinner. A noise began in the shadows, a whispering and skittering of claws on the wooden floor, getting closer and closer. Calista pressed her back against the cool iron bars of the window. No escape. Nowhere to run She could see them now, hideous misshapen creatures with grinning yellow fangs, shadow ghouls summoned from rotting despair. Calista screamed without a sound.

Chimera Book and Writing Group prompt: day and night

the Old Gods

2009-06-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

Some think it was better before the war. The war started and ended in the span of a single day, not by nuclear power but by the might of gods , long absent in the minds of day traders, eco warriors and movie stars. The gods aren’t like Tinkerbelle, they didn’t disappear because we forgot to believe, they walked among us the whole time. Eros is a porn star, no surprise there, Athena masqueraded as Martha Stewart, Dionysus has a wineries in Napa, Gaia sells real estate in the valley. Not quite hell on earth, but Hades is a politician.

all that glitters

2009-06-02T06:49:00.000-07:00

Melantha sat, dark eyes scanning the crowd of writing bodies on the dance floor. The club was dark, filled with black velvet, glittering chandeliers, silvered mirrors, and thrumming rock music. A grimace flickered across her pale face, as two sorority girls bounced up to the bar wearing matching Twilight t-shirts. Melantha stood, the glint of diamonds shining in the black lace of her dress. She slipped into the fervent crowd, letting the music flow through her, the smell of warm human flesh and blood sent a shiver down her spine. Melantha smiled hungrily, sharp teeth pressing into her bottom lip.

Chimera Writing group drabble prompt: rock

Death's Whisper

2009-05-25T07:42:00.000-07:00

The door slammed shut, keys rattling in the lock. She was alone in the dark room, wrists bound behind her back with thin cable. Death whispered sweet words in her ears. She smiled grimly as she moved her wrists against the wire, drops of blood dripping to the white carpet. Death whispered on as she slipped her hands free, the torn flesh of her wrists burning. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and she grabbed the only weapon to hand. The door swung open and she shoved a steel knitting needle into his throat. Death laughed as the monster died.

Chimera Writing Prompt: cable

Jungle

2009-05-19T07:52:00.000-07:00

The plane crashed down into the jungle night, metal screaming and smoke pluming into the sky. Robert could feel each soul as it tore free of imprisoning flesh. The metal of the seatbelt dug into his gut fingers gripping tightly to the orange seat in front. The plane judder to a halt amid the trees, the silence after the crash was eerie, it sent a spike adrenalin down Robert’s spine as he unclipped his lap belt. “Hello?” he called but the plane was empty and the jungle was silent. 400 passengers and crew gone. Robert was alone in the darkness.

chimera prompt: jungle

The Black Gate

2009-05-12T06:33:00.000-07:00

“Relax listen to the sound of my voice, I’m going to count down from three now.”
“Doctor….”
“Three…”
“I….”
“Two…One… Jane?”
“Yes.”
“What do you see?”
“A black iron gate.”
“Open the gate Jane”
“Its s-so c-cold here I can see my breath, there are shadows everywhere…I… someone‘s here.”
“You’re safe Jane. Who’s there?”
“I…I don‘t know..”
“Tell me who you see.”
“ …oh god...her eyes are black….oh god…it can‘t be…nooo!”
“I want you to wake now... Jane ….can you hear me?”
“I can hear you Doctor , but I’m not Jane.“
“Jane?“
“Poor Jane is dead.” The demon smiled.

Chimera Prompt: bottle

2009-05-05T09:16:00.001-07:00

A green glass bottle sat on a rusted metal shelf, covered in dust and grime in the corner of a dusty room filled with the detritus of a forgotten time. Dust covered the bottle and its glass stopper. Its label peeling, faded and unreadable, and yet something dark lurked within the bottle’s blue green depths. Honeyed poison?
witch’s spell?
vampire’s blood?
The essence of evil?
the tears of an angel?
Plague?
life?
the whisper of death?
cry of despair?
A green glass bottle of time sitting lonely on a rusted shelf, all the potential hope and horror of Pandora’s gift.

Chimera Prompt Music

2009-04-28T11:06:00.000-07:00

Kelly stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, blonde hair pulled back in a tight pony tale, heart shaped face, with pink cupids bow lips, and large blue eye. A small spot of red rode high on her cheek as she critically assessed her perfect makeup. She rubbed the last spot away, steaming water fogged the mirror, as the last of the blood washed away. Kelly smiled a sweet smile that did not reach the pooling black depths of her cold blue eyes, as she stepped over the plastic wrapped body and adjusted the skirt of her cheerleader uniform.

* while listening to Seether and Stone Sour, and very inspired by Dexter Morgan

Lava (a Chimera writing prompt)

2009-04-21T10:50:00.000-07:00

The goddess stood on the mountain, wrapped in night. She looked down upon the city of men far below. The stench and noise of humanity blew on the wind. The goddess frowned and waited as the moon rose high and bloated in the star strewn sky. The goddess waited but no sacrifice was made, she was forgotten. Her lips curved in a terrible smile, and she called fire from the heart of the earth. The mountain rumbled to life, smoke and ash billowed into the sky, molten lava poured down. The goddess laughed as the city burned. They would remember.

Broken

2009-03-23T07:05:00.000-07:00

How cursed the dawn, the brilliant blinding light of day, heavy curtains lay open, moats of dust swirling in the cold morning light. On the floor in a pool of white lay a beautiful doll, one blue eye staring blind into the light, the other lost, hair a puddle of darkness, pale porcelain face cracked, skull broken, red lips parted in a soulless smile. Curled within shadow, a small girl sits, black eyes dripping pink tinged tears, sharp teeth biting ruby lips. Chubby fingers twitching at the edge of darkness, before reaching into burning light to twine in silken hair.

The Poison Apple Tree (part I)

2008-11-04T11:57:00.000-08:00

The Poison Apple Tree

A Fairy Tale

Apryl Lowe

Part I

Everyone knows the tale of Snow White, the evil step-mother, the woodsman, the poison apple, and the prince. The Prince’s kiss awakened Snow White from her poisoned slumber, he defeated the queen and they all lived happily ever after. But where their story ends another begins, Snow White and the prince left the apple in the forest.

A poison apple made with bitter magic and touched by Snow White’s pure love. An apple with seeds, and as seeds are meant to grow one small black seed grew. The seed grew and grew into a tree with black limbs the colour of starless night, white blooms the colour of sun bleached bone, and crimson fruit.

The animals of the forest knew to stay away, but men have always had less sense than the creatures of the forest, men stole apples from the tree. But a tree that grew from a poison fruit can only bear the same. The hearts of trees are not as men, and in time the little apple tree sorrowed for the deaths of men, who’s bones lay beneath her black branches and poison fruit. A tree can sorrow even though a tree cannot cry.

In time men grew wise, they saw the sun bleached bones and left the tree alone on her hill. The apple tree grew lonely, and envious of the other trees in the forest, trees that bore nuts and fruit that were visited by humans, and animals. She wished each day to be different than she was.
One day a group of boys came whispering and kicking the bones near the tree, daring each other to touch the tree, throwing stones at the perfect apples hanging from black branches. One bold boy with dark curling hair, and silver blue eyes, dragged behind him silver axe. ,He raised it and swung it towards the tree. The axe cut deep into the wood, past the black bark and deep into the white flesh of the tree. And the tree bled crimson sap.

The boy shouted in triumph brandishing the axe in the air. As he did a single drop of crimson sap dripped from the, fell on his hand. The other children looked on in horror as the boy cried out and dropped the axe to the earth. The tree’s blood burned his hand and though he rubbed his hand on his tunic the sap remained. The boy cried and the other children scattered running home as fast as they could.

The tree looked on in sorrow, she had no comfort to give. She was a tree with poisoned fruit and a wound that bled, what comfort could a tree give. The boy curled on the moss covered ground, crying.. “I’m sorry. Please don‘t let me die.” he cried to the tree. The only reply was the laughter of leaves in the wind.

To be continued….

this is a piece of writing that is all me.. a part of my heart.. please be gentle and please remember it is mine. If you liked it please leave a comment.. I'm working on finishing the story and taking it from the scattered pieces in my head into written words, its a slow process.

razor

2008-02-26T11:57:00.001-08:00

The man stood on the edge of the cliff watching the crashing waves. A smile curved the edge of his lips. Laughter burst forth, and his body shook with it, sending a cascade of pebbles tumbling down the cliff face. He stood on the razor’s edge between earth and sea, life and death. The man looked at the gold wedding band on his hand, slipped it off his finger and held it up to the sun, and let it fall from his grasp into the sea. The laughter died, but the smile remained as he turned and walked away.

Butterfly

2007-12-01T12:36:00.000-08:00

A naked bulb swung back and forth, the shadow of butterflies across the room. Her left boot kicked the body on the dirt floor. “Where’s the girl?”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s not the answer I wanted.” She said retrieving the gun from the small of her back. “You have been a bad boy Bobby.” She aimed the gun at his head.

“Wait! Tommy’s got her!”

“Tommy?”

“ At the Rooster Club.”

“That’s all I needed…places to go people to…” she said smiling and pulled the trigger. The light illuminating the tattoo on her back, skulls on black butterfly wings. “kill.”

Scene

2007-11-19T13:43:00.000-08:00

The body lay twisted and bloody, half buried in the dirt and mud. Blonde hair matted with blood and gore, sightless blue eyes stared into an unrelenting sun. She knelt down beside the lifeless figure fingers reaching out to caress a lock of golden hair.

“Mom! Don‘t touch anything.”

“What have you done?”

“Mom you’re contaminating my crime scene!”

“Your what?”

“My crime scene!”

“You best clean up this mess before your sister finds her Barbie in the mud. And no more CSI!”

“Aw…but CSI: Vegas is on tonight!”

“That isn’t my new red nail polish is it?”

“um no.”

Ankara

2007-10-05T04:30:00.000-07:00

The following is a short story I wrote a few years ago that I just recovered from the old laptop and had complety frogotten existed till I read it ten minutes ago. Its not the best I have ever written but I don't things its all that bad and hopefully rereading it will inspire me to write more. I just moved this over from the meridian ariel blog and thought it might fit a bit better here even though it isn't a drabble.

Ankara

"Welcome to the beautiful city of Ankara. Gem of the Empire." Zenia muttered under her breath as the door to the cell slammed shut, the lock loudly clicking in place. She waited a moment before pushing to her feet and surveying the dank cell in the dim light from a small window in the door. She could hear the shuffling steps of the guard retreating up the long flight of stairs. " Spend the night in the exotic Palace Dungeon visited by men and women from around the Empire." Zen continued her monologue her tone dripping with acid.

"We’re going to die here aren’t we?"

" What? What sort of attitude is that? I’ve been in worse scrapes that this, this is nothing."

"When?"

"Well I was once climbing a mountain in search of my father’s lost sheep. Halfway to the top the path became very steep. I lost my footing and started to slide down the mountain to my death. I held onto an outcrop of rock, the sharp edges biting into my hands. I looked around and found that I was so high up that the clouds were below me. I could hear the sounds of the sheep bleeting somewhere above me, so up I climbed, hand over hand, higher and higher. All the sudden I heard a terrible howling, and upon the ledge above me stood a pack of winter starved wolves, saliva dripping from their long yellow fangs. There I was, hanging by one arm on the side of a freezing cold mountain, wondering whether or not I should leave the sheep to the wolves and climb back down to safety. As I contemplated my best route home, a hideous roar shook the mountain. Down below me on a ledge stood a giant bear. Imagine that. Hanging from one arm on the side of a mountain. I couldn’t climb up, because of the wolves. I couldn’t go down the mountain as the bear was waiting for me. Now have you ever heard of a worse predicament?"

"No never" Chianna exclaimed waiting patiently for Zen to finish her tail. Zen began to sort through the mouldy, louse infested straw of the dungeon cell. " Uh Zen?"

"Filthy stuff, but some of it seems to be dry. It should be better than sleeping on the cold hard stone." Zen murmured keeping her eyes from alighting on Chianna’s face as she carefully lowered herself to the straw reaching for the small dish of stale slightly mouldy bread "oh good no maggots just a bit of mould."

"Zen"

"It’s not a feast but it should be enough to fill our bellies. The water isn’t too bad either." Zen continued breaking the bread into equal halves and taking a cautious sip of the brackish water in its dented metal pitcher.

"Well?"

"Yes?" Zen looked up, absently brushing a strand of raven hair from her eyes, her face devoid of all expression. "Did you want this side of the cell?"

"The story Zen! Finish the story. What happened next?" blurted Chianna, her cheeks flushing as red as her hair in exasperation.

"Oh that" "Yes that. How did you get down the mountain?" Chianna asked eyes flashing green fire in the dimly lit cell.

"Oh. I didn’t." She replied in a bland tone.

"What?"

"The bear ate me." Zen finished blue eyes sparkling with merriment as Chianna stared at her mouth agape before bursting into helpless laughter. "That’s better. Now remember, never give up. The only situation that could be worse is if we were dead and then nothing would matter anyway. I have been in worse circumstances than this." Zen finished, the corner of her lips twitching slightly as she bent to adjust the laces of her boot withdrawing from a hidden sheath a small deadly looking dagger. The blade gleamed in the pale yellow light shining from the barred window in the door. Now lets get some sleep. We’ll need it for whatever comes next." Zen slipped the dagger back into her boot settling herself in the straw, a small smile curving her lips as her eyes closed.

copyright 2003ish Meridian Ariel

lunatic

2007-08-20T06:51:00.001-07:00

“Hello and welcome to Lycanthropes Anonymous. Tonight we have a new face so can we all put our paws together and give a warm welcome to Lonnie.”
“Hello Lonnie!” the room chorused.
“hi.. Um I don’t know what to say.”
“Why don’t you share with us how you were turned.”
“I can’t”
“Of course you can dear, we all have.”
“Oh god.”
“.Just let it all go dear.”
“I was camping in Yosemite. This is so embarrassing. ” Lonnie shifted uncomfortably in her plastic chair. “I was bitten…. by a tick. OK. I got lycanthropy from a fucking tick bite.”

rainbows

2007-08-15T03:51:00.000-07:00

He watched as the rain began to fall, shattering the oily rainbows on the puddle’s surface. A bitter smile curved his dry lips. “It’s the end of the world as we know it…” he sang softly pushing away from the rusted car he was leaning against looking out over the freeway, full of dead cars rusting quietly in the rain. Hefting his pack he picked a path through the jumble of dead cars headed away from another abandoned city. No technology, meant no people, just another civilization fallen. Leaving behind plastic water bottles and oil slick rainbows. “It’s the End….”

flame

2007-07-10T11:13:00.000-07:00

The rain was turned to ice as the night fell. They crept exhausted into the the only shelter . Illyria watching silently as the men gathered wood to build a fire.
“Never gonna burn Cair. too wet.” said Lorn.
“Then we freeze to death.”
“I know.”
Illyria crept to the wood, thrust her hands into it and it bust into flames.
“What the hell?”
“How did you…”
“Why didn’t you…..”
“Tis witchcraft.” Illyria whispered biting her lip.
“ Thou shall not suffer a witch to live. Bloody Idiots.”
“Tis death.”
“If caught.”
“They can’t burn a fire witch can they?”

Siren

2007-07-07T02:38:00.000-07:00

She stood at the edge of the world, the edge of the sea, toes digging into warm sand. Fingers gripping the soft fabric of her skirt. With each new wave foaming on the shore, each beat of her heart the sound of the sea calling . Singing its siren song of blue waters and fathomless depths. Longing burned in her blood. Silent tears slip down her face carrying the salty tang of the sea. Waves crash and her body sways forward. “Mummy!” a child’s high voice. Chubby fingers entwine with hers ,tugging they break the sea’s spell. “I love you.”

Long Time Gone - theme chosen by Meg

2007-07-04T05:36:00.000-07:00

She stood in the shadow of an ancient oak watching the moon rise luminous over the town in the valley below. She watched as the town filled with the inviting warmth of candle and fire light. She looked at the dusty road . “They say you can’t go home again.” she whispered to the tree holding tight to its dry bark. The wind whispered through the leaves teasing the hem of her cloak. Shifting her pack she stepped out onto the road. “Been a long time gone. Nowhere left to go.” She whispered walking toward the warm glow of lights.

And The Horse He Rode In On

2007-06-28T03:28:00.001-07:00

Trinity Falls
Hadrian
The Outer System

Bronwyn stepped from the transport pod and into the dust of another backwater outpost. A ramshackle bar the only lighted building in the outpost. She entered and found a dark haired man sat at a table.
“Any luck on the fugitive?”
“Yeah .You’re not gonna like it.”
“Just tell me.” Bronwyn said reaching for a spoon of his stew.
“He raped the mayor’s daughter.”
“.Don’t tell me they killed him?”
“They didn’t just kill him they butchered and ate him.”
“Ate ?” Bronwyn whispered dropping the spoon.
“And the horse he rode in on.”

Intentions

2007-06-28T02:45:00.000-07:00

“Did you finish that job yet?”
“No I’ll do it later after I finish this one.”
“You promised remember.”
“I know and I intend to do it later when I finished this one.”
“You know what they say. The road to hell is paved in good intentions.”
“You know hat doesn’t make any sense don‘t you? That would mean the road to heaven is paved in bad?”
“Its just what they say.”
“Who says?”
“I don’t know just they, its always just they.”
“Look I’ll get to the job when I’ve finished this one, Is that ok with you?”
“Yeah.”

Tears Of The Sun

2007-06-26T00:14:00.000-07:00

They fell from the sky, tears from the heart of the sun. Hidden from humanity’s gaze, from our science. They fell to the earth, we were powerless, everything we thought the height of our technology, our civilization, our humanity. Gone, Everything is gone, buildings, power plants, weapons, technology. A few of us remain, forsaken souls, left alone. What’s left of mankind lives in fear of the dark once more. We fear the predators beyond the safety of the fire, and the darkness beyond the Earth. Guns don’t work anymore. All we have is the desire to survive. Mankind lives on.

On The Road (theme handpicked by Meg)

2007-06-25T01:20:00.000-07:00

“Hey Charlie wake up we’re here!”
“huh, what? I‘m awake? Are we at San Francisco already?” Charlie grumbled opening her eyes and staring blearily out the window.
“Hurry lets go” Alex said jumping out of the car.
“Where are we Alex? A fire station?” Charlie got out yawning.
“Livermore Station. Hurry up.” Alex cajoled dragging Charlie inside. “Look there it is.” Alex whispered.
Charlie looked around slowly. “What is?”
“No up there” Alex pointed at a dimly glowing light bulb.
“It’s a light bulb.”
“Its The World’s Longest Burning Bulb!”
“You’re joking right? Lets get back on the road. ”

....................................
I have actually been to Livermore and besides the famous Lab, the light bulb was about the most intresting thing there.

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/set/lightbulbs.html

Cult of Celebrity

2007-06-22T12:08:00.000-07:00

Temple of the Holy Wood
Former Republic of Kalifornia
High Producer Lucas and Lord Director Cameron stand near the alter, two initiates bring forward a golden box.
“The relic?”
“Yes. High Producer.“ the initiates reply setting the box down.
“You may leave, Sister Close will see to you.” Hitchcock slowly opened the box and removed the contents.
“She is beautiful!” Lucas exclaimed as he cradled the head in his hands., reverently touching the porcelain cheeks, plump red lips, the golden hair, dull cornflower blue eyes, every detail perfectly preserved for two millennia.
“Praise Botox Goddess of beauty! ”
“Praise Botox.”

Remnant

2007-06-22T05:57:00.001-07:00

Aryanne watched from the doorway as the snow fell ,carpeting the barren landscape in glittering white. Grimacing she closed the door and shuffled near the warmth of the fire. “Storm coming.” She muttered. a grey cat tangled about her legs purring brokenly. She absently picked up the cat stroking its fur as she gazed into the dying flames. “More fuel.” she grunted dropping the cat, and grabbing a ancient book from the stack beside the fire. Ebay for Dummies was written across its tattered cover, a remnant from before the fall of man. Smiling she watched the fire consume it.

While you were away something happened.

2007-06-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

“Welcome back Tru.” Medical officer Io trilled nervously, as Tru awoke from deep stasis. “While you were in stasis. something happened.” Io blurted.
“ Mind yourself Medic.” Kerrin glared. “Not now.”
“Captain?” Tru looked at the medic, the last thing he remembered was the explosion in the cargo bay. “The cargo?”
“The Cargo is fine.”
“Then what is it? Captain?”
Kerrin sighed, his gaze slid to the view port, Tru‘s eyes followed. The Hawking II was orbiting a moon.
“it’s a moon.”
“No not a moon.. THE moon.”
“The moon.… but.. Earth?” Tru stammered.
“Exactly.”
“Its not there.”
“No its not.”

I posted this drabble as a comment on the site www.100wordstories.com a drabble site.

Supernatural

2007-06-21T12:12:00.000-07:00

Kara stood in the great library leafing through dusty volumes, smelling of age and decay. Teeth drawing a spot of crimson on full lips, she reached into the hidden compartment and withdrew a small silver and leather bound volume. Heart racing she slid the book under her cloak. Kara exited the labyrinth of shelves, head bent low, eyes gleaming, avoiding the attentive gaze of white robed clerics . The book, Magics: Arcane and Supernatural, was forbidden . Treason. The punishment for magic was death. Lady Kara Ravenwood, was a true daughter of the blood and a traitor to the crown.

Huntress

2007-06-21T12:11:00.000-07:00

The moon and stars glimmer in the pool of night blackened water. Leaves dance in a caress of foul wind carrying the scent of fire, cloying smoke, burnt flesh, the bitter tang of metal, the taint and filth of humanity. The smell of death. Twigs snap and branches break, echoing in the forest, and the pool is invaded by men, bloodstained warriors all. They drink of the water, muddying it with the blood and gore of battle. Filling the night with raucous laughter, course words and the clinking of coins. Green eyes blaze fire in the dark. The Huntress awakens.