Mrs Bridge following on from Sian’s inspirational post. I rose to the challenge presented on her blog. thank you Sian.

Laura’s mother, Livonia was applying her eye make and thinking about what her daughter had described about the incident at the park yesterday, pleased all was well, but still couldn’t deny her feelings and was sure Tony was a creep..

Laura rang every morning at eight o’clock, not out of obligation but rather out of friendship and concern. Livvy would prefer it if that friendship started later some days, and this was one of those days.

She had slept badly, tired and grumpy her monosyllabic answers to her daughter had cut the conversation short. She felt pangs of regret because she was ready to talk now and had missed her opportunity.

She looked closely at her eyes, they didn’t look like hers. Hers got compliments, these belonged to an older woman. When did that loose skin get there? She pulled at the laughter lines at the side of her eyes, bemused at how far they stretched.

She sighed deeply, an important birthday was coming up, and fifty was waiting for her at the weekend. She knew Laura had some things planned and she sighed again and hoped she would see it.

She’d felt the same at thirty and at forty but this time it was different. This time it wasn’t based on unsound fears about a fragile mortality. She knew her time was almost done and there was still so much to do. It’s funny how the work mounts up just before a deadline.

“Are you ready yet?” Michelle barked, but her words came wrapped in a smile. Her friend and nurse, spoke with an affectionate attitude, designed as always to get a reaction, even on her down days.

“You’ll wait a few more moments until I fix my wig, if I’m off for this new chemo I want to look my best.” Livvy flattened down her own straying dead hairs with the blonde wig that was so much like her old hair… she smiled at her image in the mirror.

“Let’s go”.


500 word challenge

500 word challenge

Inside its current form, a child’s stuffed toy, the vile, malevolent darkness waited…

It had watched as the putrid flesh from the rotting carcasses had decomposed, revealing twisted skeletons, lying just as they had fallen.

The smashed bones, could allow the replaying of the final scene, so satisfying and sweet.

It would wait… it was all it could do. Its energy slowly depleting…needing… aching… craving new fresh blood.

Next time it would make the deaths and suffering last much longer. It imagined new and exquisite executions. It had learnt that killing quickly offered less in terms of satisfaction. It had time to think and plan and would curb its future maniacal instinct.

There would come a time when it could attach to organic forms and transitions would be rapid. As each new night began its hatred grew.

Splatting flies into walls and watching their bodies explode into puffs of blood became its main amusement. Honing its skills and creating macabre mosaics on the crumbling plaster became its purpose… for now.

It remembered its own death and how its own anger had spoilt that transition. If only it had known its soul was so dark and foul it would be allowed only one. It was proud that its soul was so unworthy and heavy it would never own a form again… merely use them. It waited for that night to come.

The ritual of killing was like a three course meal. The fear of the shocked mortal a delicious aperitif. The energy it stole a taster for so much more. The decision to kill or prolong and how, the main, a mouth-watering menu of delights. Its last killing, replayed so many times became an erotic fantasy. A simple swift heart removal smashing through the ribs. The beating heart still pumping not knowing it was dead… and then the dessert. The sweet taste of a human soul, always hidden through flesh and blood. It took a moment to reveal itself and then the delicious ecstasy of the milky, pure soul. Eventually it would be quick enough to capture it all. For now a scrape would have to do. It was an insanely addictive drive that compelled the bile festering malevolence to demand souls.

But for now it would wait…

A car door and noises downstairs excites the demonic rage. Suppressing laughter. It needed to be silent not to fear the coming souls.

Anticipating the sight of faces shocked by death, almost too much to bear.

The door was sticking, the vile beast’s laugh broke out.

“What was that? Did you hear that? There’s someone in there?

A young male soul with an aura of pure love came into the room. Stunned, shocked, bent over and vomiting, he dropped his camera to the floor.

That was all the energy the vileness needed.

From inside the camera it saw the toy where it had spent so many years. Stronger now and thoroughly entertained. The waiting was over…

Monday Challenge

Eileen’s challenge. Select book 3rd from end. 8th chapter, 15 sentence “Mine was A Shakespeare Anthology. Chapter 8 A midsummer nights dream. Sentence 15. “So quick bright things come to confusion” what am I to do with that ?

So quick bright things come to confusion” had been the strangest headstone inscription I had ever seen. I took a photo with my phone and decided to do some research later. There really must be an interesting story behind that I thought.

I rubbed the stone to reveal the dates as they were much worn, I guessed seventeenth century and the last date sixty nine, I thought.

The grave, at the oldest part of the ancient cemetery of St Cyprian’s Church, well off the beaten track and not accustomed to visitors, was shaded by a huge oak tree. The roots would certainly be causing problems with the inhabitant judging by the gnarled, knobbly protrusions.

There was a pretty carpet of unusual blue flowers that spread across the grave and up the stone and tree. I tried to pick one to examine closer but every time the flower would quickly disappear into the ground. After several attempts I managed to snare one and as I looked I felt my eye sting. I rubbed my eye hard and it watered. I felt strangely tired and lay down on the grave.

When I opened my eyes I was surrounded by tiny, delicate, winged people who were laughing and chattering away. They were pointing at me and dancing on me. I felt dizzy. They shouted together

“Come and join us, come and join us we need a female”

I shouted “No! Leave me alone”

Next thing I knew was the vicar offering his hand and helping me up.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

“I’m not sure” I said getting up.

I turned to point at the grave but found only a bench beneath the old Oak tree.

“I’m confused” I said “but wait” remembering my photo.

No photo was on my phone, alas and I couldn’t recall the inscription.

The vicar looked at me with such a look and as he accompanied me out of the churchyard he said.

“There have been many strange things happen at that tree over the years. Your story is not unique. The bench commemorates several people that have gone missing over the years who were last seen at the graveyard.”

As he turned to walk away I swear I heard him say

“So quick bright things come confusion” and I saw him disappear.

I still have no idea what it means but I ain’t going back.