Written for Tourmaline .’s Halloween Challenge Today’s prompt was Carve.
She used them like a builder might a mallet, smashing her way through one person to get to the next. There were never words. She never needed them. Her every action, thought, and deed stemmed from her eyes.
What were they like? Could you describe them: narrowed, nasty, blood-stained, or worse?
My answer was always the same, of course I could. They were carved. The Devil himself had chiselled them out of her porcelain facade. But it was only now as she used them with more venom than ever that the cracks showed.
Written for Tourmaline .’s Halloween Challenge Today’s Prompt was Creature.
It wasn’t the teeth that bit, Nor the eyes that glared, Not even the claws that slashed; It wasn’t the spikes that poked, Nor the tail that swatted, Not even the horns that gouged; It was the creature’s name that hurt, Stung like a thousand bee stings, As it slipped from my lips: Sister.
The Night removed all colour like a reveller their masquerade mask. It wasn’t needed. Why dilute the perfect silver of the stars, the creaminess of the moon, the obsidian void, with unnecessary glare. In every shooting star, there were a million bright flowers. In every swirling galaxy, there were a billion neon signs. No, the night had it right from the beginning. It was I, the Day, who lived the lie.
Still, the darkness absolute scared me. So, I replaced my mask of colours and stepped back into the golden light like a true god, not a scared imposter. As I ever had, and would until the end of time.
I liked a good pair of legs as well as the next person, but four pairs on one body? Yet, there she was, hanging from the corner, suspended in a moonlit net.
How long she’d been there and for how long she’d watched, who knew, but her unblinking eyes regarded me as one might a tasty dinner. Hypnotic, she mesmerised with her stillness. I wobbled, wavered, fell.
She kissed mouth open, a slobbering affair. I savoured the feel of its disintegration. When, she sucked, I sighed. Soon, I was just a bound husk in a pantry of many that twinkled like the stars. Not bad for a fly.
“We are all ghosts in the greater scheme of things. We are invisible to all but those who know us there. Is that not the very definition of a ghost?”
The creature nodded to not a rustle, nor even a disturbance of the air. All that marked its presence was a chill down the spine and a momentary blurring of my vision. But I knew what it was, which proved my point. And still, I couldn’t run.
There wasn’t a person in sight, just a gawping fool of a frog.
The frog had no teeth, no claws, and no idea, apparently. It sat on the path between me and my destination like a small rock waging war against the tidal sea. The question was how to pass it? I could’ve strode over, leapt, or booted it out of the way. I wasn’t one for going around. To my shame, the boot won.
I drew back my hobnail boots like a famous striker and launched into a world-beating goal. The frog just opened its mouth. It did not stop.
I lost my foot, then leg, then felt the rest of me sucked inside the frog’s now vacuous maw. The clouds were last to go, as my vision passed from day to enforced night. The frog belched.
There were others inside the frog, but they claimed it a toad. We fought in the darkness for a meaningless victory. The frog just belched again and moved on to mice, cats, and dogs.
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