Jul 22, 2015 Fairy tale, Friday Fictioneers
Genre: Fairy Tale
Word Count: 100 words of text exactly (sans title, author, etc.)
The Kick
©July 22nd, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
The abandoned child emerged from the monstrous woods, and saw a building made of frosting and graham crackers. People carried spun-sugar balloons. Golden light from honey-lamps spilled onto sugar-frosted ground.
Feet numb, teeth chattering, she walked rapidly towards this vision.
A voice said, “Not so fast, dearie!”
An old man with sharp teeth, white beard, and black cloak stopped her, and held out his hand. “Price of admission.”
“I’ve no coin.”
“We don’t need money — just a teensy bit of you.”
She hesitated, then spun on her heels, and kicked.
Everything vanished. She was alone, again.
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Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our Fairy Blog-Mother, for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and taking the time to read what we write every week in response to these photo-prompts. We love you, Rochelle! And thanks, also, to Dee Lovering for the photograph-prompt!
Tags: child in woods, fairy tale
Jul 22, 2015 Uncategorized
Twist
© July 21st, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
What do I see when I narrow my eyes
And stare back into a person I knew?
I see you still.
And you are a wraith,
A twisted, curling thing
Of memory, like a tight
DNA curve of smoke
From a dead fire.
Yes, I see you
Standing within that
Smoke, and I stagger,
Shielding stricken eyes.
You stare back, eyes ablaze,
Your body a fist
Your mind a knot
Your soul a twist
And you throw back your head
And howl at the moon
Which pours white milk
Into your parched throat
You raise your hands, and shout
Into the space between us
Where that which grew, so rich
So green, so luminous with life
Turned into a desert, filled
With desire that tastes like ashes.
You call, but it’s a whisper
Blown aside by a harsh wind.
I see you.
And I rear back, stagger into the wind
Shouting, tasting a thing
Whose name I’ve forgotten,
Whose voice resembles a tenderness
I seem to remember in dreams.
And yet, and yet
I seem to remember
That smile of yours
Filled with hope that raised
Its head, and smiled,
Wings pushing skyward.
We are, and we are not.
Always, and forever.
All that we once knew
All that we once were
All that we will be
All that we saw
All we will see
All pour into this
Crucible.
If it can stand so much,
How much more will it take?
This container for the
Thing contained?
All will melt
In this crucible,
All will meld
With the crucible
And time will twist
It into its own
Möbius strip.
Then, you and I
Will stand front and back,
Back and front,
Full of desire
Full of want
Full of despair
Full of disgust
Full of each other
Twisting like a snake
In the space of our
Limbic life, while
The moon pours her milk
Into our parched,
Shouting, aching throats.
While the past and the present
Curl, nesting into each other
We walk through the fire
Of our eternal days,
Turning into smoke.
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Tags: #Original Poetry, Memory