Exoskeleton – Līgo Haibun Challenge

September 8, 2013freyathewriter 10 Comments

I have really enjoyed the past two weeks of writing a haibun – a piece of prose followed by a haiku poem. The Līgo Haibun Challenge is hosted by Penny, Ye Pirate and Nightlake – why not take a trip to their blogs to find out more and check the InLinkz linky to read other offerings?

This week’s two alternative prompts are the quotes below:

“Not only the thirsty seek the water,

the water as well seeks the thirsty.”

Rumi

“If your heart is a volcano,

how shall you expect flowers to bloom?”

Khalil Gilbran

I have chosen Khalil Gilbran as my inspiration this week. Let me know what you think!

*****

– Exoskeleton –

My heart is a desert. I have dragged and hauled my body through the past days and months, every cell and sinew focused on survival, on existence, on staying alive.

My first thoughts on waking turn to food; where to find it, is it safe, how will I cook it, will it keep the hunger pangs at bay?

Next; staying away from dark alleys, empty buildings, yawning mouths of doorways, shattered windows. Shadows threaten. Instincts rule where logic has abandoned us.

Finally; a roof for the night. Crowds hide the worst of all predators, sheltering under tents of sweat-stained blankets tide-marked with mud. I have learned to be solitary. I need nothing except my wits.

Muscles atrophy through lack of use. Our jaws have slackened as chatter recedes. Talking is superfluous. Walking is necessary.

My heart is deserted, shrunken by turbulence, assailed by violence, scarred with misuse. Have I lost you?

carapace keeps safe

but hides my starving heart from

love, for which it yearns

Revival – Friday Fictioneers

August 29, 2013August 29, 2013freyathewriter 35 Comments

Here is this week’s entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

Copyright - Dawn M. Miller

Copyright – Dawn M. Miller

– Revival –

“This is how it used to look. Before they ripped its heart out.”

I take the picture from him, one that he keeps in his wallet next to a photo of his wife and daughter.

It’s a cutting from a magazine, the paper soft with age – I hold it as if caressing a butterfly. He is in tears; men are not afraid to show their pain here. Life has been too hard to pretend otherwise.

I stare up at the bones of the building, black against the blood red of the setting sun.

“We will rebuild your museum, I promise.”

His smile is radiant.

—-

Click on the blue froggy below to read others’ offerings!

Discarded – Trifecta Week 91

August 21, 2013freyathewriter 27 Comments

Below is my offering for Trifecta’s week 91 challenge word, which is ‘brand’. As you will see from the Trifecta blog post, the challenge is to write between 33 and 333 words of fiction, non-fiction, poetry or prose, based on the 3rd definition from the Merriam Webster’s Online Dictionary. This week the 3rd definition of ‘brand’ is:

a (1): a mark made by burning with a hot iron to attest manufacture or quality or to designate ownership;

a(2): a printed mark made for similar purposes: a trademark

b(1): a mark put on a criminal with a hot iron

b(2): a mark of disgrace: stigma <the brand of poverty>

Here’s my offering below – I hope you like it! By way of backstory, this is a tiny extract from my work in progress novel (first edit done, second edit underway), which I first began as part of NaNoWriMo in 2011. It’s very rough and sharing this feels like I’m walking naked in front of you all, but for the word prompt it fits very well, as the issue of branding people runs right through my whole novel.

Please check here for the other entries!

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– Discarded –

The Penitents halted their circling and stamped their feet together abruptly. The noise echoed across the landscape – a crow rose from its perch in protest, a jagged ‘V’ in the sky. Dragging Gregor to his feet, the men pulled him to a nearby tree, binding him to its trunk face first.

A hooded figure marched forward and with one movement ripped Gregor’s cloak and shirt away revealing his target – the brand that lay beneath. In piteous defence, bare skin puckered with goose flesh against the dawn chill, but nothing could protect Gregor from the slash of knives as they flew, glinting in the winter sunlight, carving deep clefts from which gory jewels dripped, splattering the rocks at his feet. Flint struck stone, a muffled woomph followed as a torch was lit. There was a moment’s hesitation, cut short by a swift nod and flames were set against the bloody flesh, consuming and devouring with sickening greed. Gregor’s body sagged – the flame was extinguished.

The hooded man surveyed his prey for a moment then spat on the ground. ‘Not a squeal from him – how disappointing. Unleash him. He’s not worth the rope. Dispense with the formalities, he will soon understand his fate when he wakes. He is Discarded, for the record. Let us return to The Portal and continue our task.’

The Penitents untied Gregor’s senseless form, and cast him to one side. For good order they too spat on the ground before gliding away.

*****

Copyright – Freya