Try, Try Again

Hello, and welcome to this weeks response to The Writer’s Mess’s Friday Picture Prompt Challenge. This week t there was a book, some used candles, and dirt to draw from, and at first I thought I would skip it. Then I started to worked what kind of spilled would involve so much dirt, and well, we get the story of our narrator, trying to perform a ritual, and running out of time.


The first time made sense, she had interpreted the moon phase wrong, she didn’t have a good enough offering, but this time it should have worked.  Why didn’t it work?

Maybe it was the hour?  She had tried midnight, but maybe, just maybe nonsense from that witch show on TV had been right, and it was really three am that was the true witching hour. 

She could do this, she would do this she had to.

She looked down at the book, still open to the appointed page, half used candles strewn around it in the dirt covering the grave.

She had on more chance at this, and if she wasn’t successful, it was over, she would be too late, and Kennedy would stay dead.

She had two and a half hours to prepare, to get another sacrifice, and if this was her last shot, she would have to make it count.

She pulled the knife from her bag, and headed towards the living space behind the church.  After all, in for a penny, in for a pound.

True Love’s Gift

This was written for the challenge on the Where Words Grow discord server. The challenge, less than 400 words on Valentine’s Day in any way shape of form. This is my response, a couple in love, a ritual murder, and the ultimate sacrifice. Warnings for death, murder, general ick. I know this is off season, but I wasn’t allowed to post until the challenge was over so I decided Halloween month was the next best thing.


There was something powerful about standing over a man whose whole heart was in your hands.  He had knelt before her, trusting her to take care of him, to do him no wrong, and she would have sooner tore out her own heart than betray him

She stepped into the ritual circle, blood still dripping warm between her fingers, and made the offering of her true love’s gift.  She felt the power burning its way through her, more excruciating than anything she had ever experienced and knew that it was working.

As quickly as the pain had started, it was over, and in a flash her hands were empty.  She collapsed to her knees, energy gone, and crawled to the still form of her lover.  She placed her right hand over the hole in his chest, and the left over her still flat stomach. The end of his story had become the beginning of hers, a Valentine’s day gift of a life, and really could anything be more romantic.