Bound

The word of the week is KNOT, and I am going to be entirely honest, I have NO idea how I got to this story, from that prompt.  This is the story about a woman who is the keeper of a knot, ensuring it does not be untangled, and I can’t really explain more without giving the story away, but think mythology…


Her fingers were bleeding again, but it didn’t matter, because she knew that she couldn’t be the one to let the knot unravel.

Everyone had heard of the tapestry, the threads, but what most didn’t know was that in the tapestry there were knots, and no matter what happened they could not be allowed to unwind.

Once unknotted, that which they contained would be lost forever, and the last time it had happened, an innocent girl had been blamed for the trespass, as if opening a box could have caused such a calamity.

There were only eight knots left, and as thankless as it was, keeping this one tied was her life’s work, and she would not see it undone.

She would never know which of the knots she maintained, as the nature of the knot could only be revealed in its destruction, and the fates were careful not to tell the volunteers if they guarded the remaining virtue, or one of the seven great vices.

And she would give her life to the knot, in the understanding that it was the hope in the hearts of all men that kept them going when they had nothing else, and that she would not be the reason it was lost.

The Warmth of Summer

It seems that I once again have a slight obsession about doors, and stepping through them, which is why I couldn’t resist The Writer’s Mess weekly picture prompt below.  Follow a little girl who has to make a decision, does she stay, or does she go…


She could smell the sweet scent of summer flowers blowing in from the garden, and walked towards it.  The smell was intoxicating, with it’s promise of a rich summer day, so tempting when she got the smallest glimpse of green around the edge of the blue door before her.

She looked back towards the nursery where she had children to care for, even though it should have been her mother’s job, and then back towards the door.

It called for her, come, stay, be free, it said, and she wanted nothing more than to go to it, but she couldn’t…or could she.

The wind blew the door a little further open, and the bright blue skey beckoned to her.

Before she knew it, she was at the threshold, and the wail of her little brother, which should have held her pack, pushed her through, and even at ten she knew that she wanted more than she would get in this place.

The warmth of sun-kissed grass melted her toes, frozen from walking on stone in winter, and all at once she realized that this could not be happening, but when she turned to go back, there was no door, only a field that stretched as far as the eye could see.

She had made her choice, and it seemed, that she would have to live with it, here, in this land of eternal sunshine.

Divine Retribution

The word of the week is BEAT for the six-sentence challenge by Girlontheedge. Today we follow the continuing story of Lottie, who has stopped trying to repent for her sins. This is going to go as dark as you may think, and I suggest you read the tags if you have triggers because they abound in this one. It works as a standalone, but you might want to go back to the beginning of Lottie’s story if you haven’t read it: Part One


The beat of Lottie’s heart in her ears almost drowned out the jeers of her classmates as she left the school for the last time.

All she had wanted was a friend, just one person not to make fun of her, and they had hurt her for it, made her suffer in ways no girl should be made to suffer.

Limping in from the football field after that lunch three weeks prior had been the tipping point, that moment where this went from possible to inevitable, and when the stick turned pink, she knew their days were numbered.

She pulled the supplies out of her locker, the chains for the doors, the gasoline, the matches, and she started her mission.

The halls were deserted, and there was no one there to ask questions as she walked down the hallways, a jerry can in each hand, chain draped around her like the parody of a necklace, accelerant pouring onto the floors. 

When the doors were sealed, it only took her a single match to light the thing up, though she made sure to use another at the other side, just in case, and she walked away from the screaming of her tormentors, never once looking back to see the vengeance she had wrought.

Repent

This one is a picture prompt response to this weeks image below. I want to continue the story of Lottie, the troubled teenager from Monday’s six-sentence story, who has been repenting for her sins, but hasn’t quite managed to get them all…


Lottie looked up the street from the passenger’s side of her mother’s car, and felt a fission of fear  go up her spine as she recognized the buildings around her.  They were almost there, almost at church. 

There was a time that thought would have thrilled her, but that was when church was a place she felt welcome, and she was young and innocent.  Now she had sinned, and this is the place where she would be judged for that which she had done.

Each week it was worse, as the wrath she felt grew from a tiny ember to a raging inferno with each day at school fueling the ever-growing flame.  She had managed she shed her pride, her envy, and battled her sloth daily, but the wrath she knew now was her one great weakness. 

As it was fed from the cruelty of her classmates, it had gone from being a timid thing to a monster that she could barely control, and she knew that one day it would be let loose upon the world.  That would be a day of reckoning, not for her and her trespasses, but for all those who trespassed against her.

For now she would bide her time, give them the chance to earn their salvation, while she knew for her that time had passed.   She would sit in the pew, bow her head, pretend to pray, and hope that no one would notice her falseness….


The story doesn’t end here, if you want to read what happens next, got to Part Three