littlewonder2

Little wonder we stumble in life.


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The Final Trifecta: In The Cold

I can’t believe Trifecta is finally ending! Well, after all the entries I’ve contributed to our community, it’s only right I should come back for just one more. I wrote this back in February, but now I’m repurposing it for this final hurrah.

She huddled against the cold, clinging to the one tiny pocket she had in front of her and chilled to the bone everywhere else. She had been forced into this corner, once having all the luxuries of a bed and now forced into the cold hard floor in the middle of winter. Just outside the door, she heard voices. Full of bitterness, she listened.

“Do you think there’s any hope for her?”

She could see his face, just imagine it in her mind. Her brother. She felt nothing but hate for him, something he would never understand through all his little denials of the weight of his guilt. Nothing would ever be enough, not anymore. Her hate for him was the only thing that kept her strong.

“There could be,” explained a stranger. Could he have brought her some doctor to take her away? “I mean, from what you’ve told me… that is, she won’t agree with me, but I feel like I can understand…” A shuddering breath. So maybe not a doctor.

“What she said about… hating you being her only strength. I mean, yeah. I can get that. I think right now, her family’s her only hope. She doesn’t know it now, but there can be more… if she can find the strength in hate, maybe she can find a different strength. Not in you, perhaps, she hates you far too much for that, but her family… if she can find some love in them, maybe there’s still a chance for her to one day… forgive you too.”

The very thought made her furious. Forgive him! There was nothing in all the world to make her forgive him, not if she lived for a hundred years! She would never forgive, she never could, she refused! He had taken everything from her, her entire life! And there was nothing shameful in strength from hate. She would do anything, if it meant that she would be strong; anything, if it meant she would never be weak again! It was worth it in the end…

“I hope so,” he said, and she wanted to tear him from the earth. “But even if she doesn’t… it’s okay. I just want her to be happy again.”

He had everyone else fooled, but he didn’t fool her! He had all the strength of luxury, while she suffered in the cold! And even if she suffered it all, he remained blind to what it truly felt for her. He would never understand, so she could never forgive him. Just the very thought made her stomach turn.

He could never be forgiven. Her mind was too far gone for forgiveness. It rose like bile in her throat.

She curled harder into herself, desperate from that little bit of warmth to spread just a little further. She was freezing.


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Character Freewriting – #1 Dawn

Something OnlyFragments has called Emotive Freewriting.

I’ve wanted to try this for a while, and OnlyFragments did encourage me awhile ago to do it.

Recently, I’ve become a little obsessed with reading OnlyFragments. I’ve been reading entries she’d written back in 2009, and a quote occurred to me; “Write with haste.” It occurs to be that OnlyFragments does that, has always done that. And you can tell just reading her, her emotions, fragments of her, come through.

Inspiring as her pieces even in 2009 are, it inspired this piece about Dawn.

Dawn is the character I’m most obsessed with. Dylan is otherwise my favourite character. In the future, I might write from Dawn, Orion, Brenda, Dylan, Seth, Andrea or Melody. But don’t worry, I’ll definitely mention who I write from if I do this again!

Expect more pieces to come, though I’m not sure when. I intend to try this more regularly.

My version is probably more accurate to call Emotive Character Freewriting. I’m not sure if I could do it otherwise; but I almost take every post OnlyFragments does as Emotive Freewriting; its all emotive, and its all spur of the moment.

I’m probably not doing this right. Oh well.

There is haste in powerlessness, and there is acceptance in all that is ugly. When you finally stop thinking, you are not slave to these desires… When you stop thinking, you can’t finally become yourself, who you were meant to be, who you really are. But you cannot stop chasing what you think you need, can you? Can’t stop because, without this fierce pursuit, you realise you can’t deal with all that’s happened to you, all that’s in your heart. This ferocity has become as much a part of you as that other part, hidden behind that layer. You can’t escape you own consumption now, can you, Dawn? It will burn through you like everything else. It will burn your heart out – unless you find a way to stop it.

Can you? Can you, Dawn? Or will you just keep consuming until there’s nothing left, and everything you love is dead?


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Friday Fictioneers – Deserting Home

Copyright - Janet Webb

There was no going out tonight. Not here, not ever again… I couldn’t even take my writing. I left my dress hanging out over the balcony, and my notebook there on my bed.

I felt a tug from my heart as I left my bedroom for the last time. We could take nothing with us. It was too poisonous, the radiation already exceeding the Ukraine.

I was just a teenager. I didn’t want any of this. Leaving everything I knew and loved. My mama held me in her arms. Within hours, the streets would be empty.

Time to leave… Chernobyl.

For Friday Fictioneers.


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Trifecta – Monsoon

It was his charge to prey on his victims during monsoon, when vampires could survive very easily even in the day.

Each kill was revenge for his family. They were lost last century… drowned.

Forever young.

Tales from Trifecta


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Trifecta – Gas

jeux-de-miroir-bordeaux-1_l.jpg

The bomb went off in the square. Children and mothers scrambled around in the fog, looking for each other.

Slowly, the toxic air began to invade their lungs.

Mass murder in the Vatican.

Image prompt taken from Trifecta.


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Soft Like Stone

I put my bookmark in
hard as stone
slipping like shale
back into the pages
of my life.

I can’t deal with it now.

I want to believe it’s tough
it’ll hold
just like I do
But I know
stone is soft; it cracks.

It’s cracking up
like my heart.

Inspired by this.


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Trifecta – Hack

His joints strained under the pickaxe hacking at stone. “I’m tired of safety… I have to move… I’ll be dead too.”

Alan stopped him. “I love you because you’re different. Don’t do this.”

Prompt taken from this weekend’s Trifecta.


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Trifecta – All About Me

It was a bull in both directions; in one hand, I had this constant, cureless rage. In the other, I had him, always after my blood.

I huffed, exhausted. I’m tired of running.

Prompt from Trifecta. Simple one this week.


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Five Sentence Fiction – Empty

What’s harder than six sentences? Five! Here’s my entry for Five Sentence Fiction.

Her chest suffocated under the pressure of the question. Her mind rambled, not really giving her a clear answer. She was holding her breath.

“No,” she said. “I don’t care about about people; when have they ever cared about me?”


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Daily Post: Dystopian Writing Challenge

From the Daily Post , inspired by this source.

She stared out the barred window with a sigh. With her hand over her pink triangle, she watched the wind blow through the green, tear-shaped leaves. It was strange how the architects of this building could manage to make this hospital look so modern, yet so restricting.

This wasn’t an old fashion; it seemed hate was the new black. Or it had been, since Hitler took over the world. She took little consolation in the fact that the world’s population was down since the war that changed everything; in fact, it was a burden.

She just wanted somebody to love. Why did it matter so much that it was a woman that she would love? Even without Hitler, the world remained in the hands of the Nazi party. And most people, people like her, were too afraid to rebel. He’d killed everyone who rebelled.

She was just determined sick, stuck in this institute, and hidden from the world.

She rubbed her knee, imagining someone else there. Anyone else, someone to help comfort her through these bittersweet times.

No one was coming to rescue her. No one.

“Come on…” said the nurse at her side, forcing her to her feet slowly.

“What?” she replied, reacting slower than her body, already standing up.

“We’re rounding everybody up to go outside…” the nurse said.

She smiled. That nature, that freedom that she’d dreamed of just moments before… it was coming. Was there a hero out there after all?

As she squeezed out the front door, and unusual pressure enveloped her hand. She looked down at it, to see her other dream come true. Looking up to the person holding it, she smiled back at the face that greeted her.

“We can do it, just me and you,” said Val. She squeezed her hand. “I’ve always loved you.”

She almost melted, but remained firm on her feet even while her chest fluttered like warm caramel. “Me and you,” she said.

They weren’t free. As they reached the front garden, the staff chained the arms and legs of every woman there together, as they sorted everyone into lines. Val and Zoe stood beside each other.

We’re not leaving, she thought. Till death… She never thought it was possible… But now that she knew how Val felt, after all these years, she couldn’t go.

Not now, not ever. Not even if it meant…

A line of gunmen lined up against them. Heavily uniform, red armbands on each left arm, rifles casually at their sides.

Something must have happened. The world wasn’t willing to keep them alive anymore. Just a bunch of old dykes, no one cared about them.

She wondered if these same gunmen had been on duty all days, killing sick people like her. She imagined all the gay men in the hospital, the ones she’d met and talked to each day. Bullets splatting their blood, heads knocked back, brains flying.

It was a disgusting thought. She squeezed Val’s hand tighter.

She squeezed back. “Don’t worry, Zoe. I love you.”

And that was enough to distract her. No more did she think about bloody bodies. Now all that was on her mind was all the things she never got to do with Val. All the kisses, all the touches, all the rest of it…

And in her mind, she smiled back again, telling Val she loved her. Zoe was only too aware she didn’t, had never gotten a chance to fall in love with Val,  but if she had, it would’ve been enough.

She could’ve been happy, just with that. Instead spending her last days mourning for the life she lost long ago; the one she never even had. Turns out it was up to her, all along. She wished she’d known that before.

The gunmen raised their double-barrels onto their shoulders, ready to fire.

She took a deep breath, counting along to herself. 3… 2… 1…

A jolt of black wracked her. She began to fall.