Some of these #Blogflash2012 themes I really love. Day 9 is Journey, which is a theme often seen in Yearning for Wonderland: the leaving of the familiar for the foreign and the potentially wondrous. I loved the image I chose for this as well.
DAY 9: JOURNEY
All her life she’d been told to turn away from the glowing star. It burned with distant fire over the next shore. Her heart throbbed with its pulse.
She’d broken her tribe’s law, stolen the smallest longship and dragged it to the edge of Long Waste, ice water slapping at her feet. Her golden hair flapped like a banner in the frozen fingers of the wind.
She unclasped the heavy gold armband and left it on the shattered sands, in payment for her theft.
One sharp push, the boat scraping the shore, and she was at last on her journey.
Word Count: 100
Art by Misstake1989 on Deviant Art. All rights reserved.
From romance to creepy childhood fairytale reinterpretation. No one can say that #BlogFlash2012 isn’t leading me down an unusual writing path.
DAY 8: RELAXING
Alice tumbled to the forest floor. She’d eaten three mushrooms, but she was hungry and the apple was so red. Her eyelids flickered: a rabbit by her elbow snapped shut his pocketwatch. The caterpillar exhaled a smoke ring the size of a dodo.
Her head rolled right and the roses chattered. The Queen of Hearts bit into a headless tart, smiling at Alice with a dripping red grin.
As the toxin from the Amanita mushrooms spread through her body with relaxing warmth, Alice thought she saw a floating cat grin at her.
And then she died.
Word Count: 100
Haha! Day 7! Seven days of #BlogFlash2012, in only….eighteen days. Well, you can’t have everything.
DAY 7: SUNSET
Deirdre drank the cooling chai tea, staring as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Two weeks ago, she’d rushed into this kitchen sobbing, flung the other woman’s crumpled red dress at Earl and said she was leaving him.
He’d come at her then, screaming curses, with the knife she used to pare apples for pie.
That was before a massive spruce tree unfurled from under the linoleum and grabbed him in a rib-crushing embrace.
Earl chopped at a branch wildly. She’d buried him under her beloved orchard.
Nursing her bandaged finger, she reflected: it’s best not to devastate a dryad.
Art by Cathy Rox @ Deviantart (All rights reserved)