Jul. 10th, 2013

Cherish.

Jul. 10th, 2013 02:21 pm
charisstoma: (default)
Title: Cherish
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 289
Prompt: Cherish. Am thinking that when found in the wild it's ephemeral.




Sunlight sparkled off the lake water, the trees shushing with the movement of the breezes through their leaves.

When love’s flames bank themselves into glowing embers, do not think that I love you less. Those embers are not even close to ashes and never will be, for being with you adds slow burning coals and sticks of kindling to the hearth of my love where I cherish you.

Dan read the lines of calligraphic words on the small embossed card in his hand. Was it just this afternoon that other words had bitingly etched lines through their charmed life? He remembered the feeling of sharp tearing inside his belly and he’d started walking. It didn’t matter where. It mattered that he just keep moving, working physically at distancing himself, escaping from a pain that was too large for tears to ease.

Words ornately printed on cream colored stock. His first inclination was to crush the card for its lies that had been his dreams, then he laughed bitterly and placed it carefully in his shirt pocket where it would be safe. Odd that he’d found this lying beside the lamp on the bedside. He’d keep it safe for the cherished fantasy that it was.

A car drove in the distance, nearing and then stopping. Alex hesitantly got out and paused hand on the heat warmed roof of the car, looking over it at Dan before he walked towards him. He extended his hand picking up one of Dan’s loosely to hold and then stepping closer pulled him forward into an embrace. They stood, heads bowed onto each others’ shoulders.
Sometimes ‘sorry’ doesn’t need to be said with words and ‘I love you. Don’t leave me,’ can be shown instead.
charisstoma: (default)
Title: An Unpleasant Duty
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 224
Prompt: edacity, noun: the state of being edacious; voraciousness; appetite.



The sky was that clear blank blue called a pleasant day. He briefly glanced down into the deep oubliette determining if he’d have to stay much longer as witness at this punishment, then took back to studying the sky so as not to listen to the sounds from below, the crunch of bone and ripping of flesh. The other sounds had stopped long before; the whimpering of denial from the condemned, the pleas for clemency when the hood had first been removed from the prisoner at the gate that kept the executioners from joining the enactment of society’s retribution, the whispered ‘no … no’ when they saw the method of their death, and finally the short lived screams. It was a death reserved for only the worst who had no chance at redemption in Lord Henry’s mercy, heaven or the courts.

He glanced down again briefly. ‘Wouldn’t be long now.’ They’d need to dig a new oubliette as the bones were building up on the bottom to levels that would be dangerous soon. Arrangements for the termination of the real executioner in oil fed flames would need to be made after another prisoner had been infected to take its place. He was relieved that his bearing witness to this form of execution happened infrequently. The sentence was rarely handed down of death by zombie.

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