Home Truths – Five Sentence Fiction

October 5, 2014October 5, 2014freyathewriter 12 Comments

Don’t judge me.

I have lived in this skin for nineteen years, I have breathed this life since you first put me on a pageant runway at the age of two.

You created me, yet you look at me as if I am a monster.

Look at yourself, mother, look at yourself.

I am who and what you made me.

————–

Here is my latest entry into the lovely Lillie’s Five Sentence Fiction, where she has provided this gorgeous photo for us as this week’s inspiration. Please do visit here to read, read, read some more! No two pieces will be the same…

Puddles! – dVerse Poetics

October 19, 2013freyathewriter 32 Comments

This week’s dVerse Poetics has been a bit of a challenge for me, since children aren’t a huge part of my story and life. Still, I was a little girl once upon a time, and I can still connect with my inner silly 🙂

So, I hope you enjoy this little ditty – and please visit dVerse to read all of the other creations!

– Puddles! –

Splish, splash, flubble, flosh
Jump in puddles, make them splosh
Stick your tongue out, raindrops tickle
Jewels of water, let them prickle.
Pitter, patter, flickle, flack
Umbrellas open with a crack!
Welly boots keep feet dry
Watch the rainbow fill the sky.
(And annoy your parents – ask them ‘Why?’!)

Y Diflannu – VisDare 35

August 30, 2013August 30, 2013freyathewriter 17 Comments

Here’s my latest offering for Anonymous Legacy‘s photo-inspired prompt, VisDare. This week’s prompt word is ‘Ephemeral’. The rules are simple:

150 words – or less.

Post entry to your blog and “link in”.

(Please – no erotica or graphic violence.)

DON’T FORGET to read and comment on others’ entries!!

The photo is below, and my piece follows. Let me know what you think, and give it a go yourself, why not?

Image Source

– Y Diflannu –

I told them, over and over again ‘Don’t go down Glyndwr Street’. What a fool I was.

It was the summer holidays, a delightful oasis for them, a seemingly endless trial for me. I had run out of patience and shouted at them to get out of my hair.

The peace and quiet was such a relief.

Until they didn’t come back at tea-time, ransacking the kitchen cupboards for biscuits, crisps and orange squash.

I knew.

I ran as if wings had sprouted from my feet. I got there just in time to see them skipping off into the distance, holding hands. I stared as their shadows grew dark, as my darling girls faded and disappeared.

There they are now, forever embedded in the paving stones, together with remnants of the other careless souls.

Sometimes, I want to join them.

*****

**** Y Diflannu – The Disappeared