For a 50 word story challenge from Cafe Muravyets. It has to have the following words in it: downpour, moronic, mercifully, snagged, ripen

In the downpour, the Queen of Hearts mercifully became pulp. ‘Better than getting old and getting wrinkles that will ripen her into a prune’ said Alice. Having snagged the Queen's plans, she now wants to move on and get that moronic Mad Hatter captured and say ‘Off with his head!’


so have a look at: muravyets.wordpress.com for other stuff, wonderful and suchlike.

Lunch in Fridge

I was looking at Flash Fiction blogs and found a 50 word challenge to write a story about 'lunch in Fridge'. So here is mine:

Beautiful Rose is sleeping. Her busy ‘globetrotting on a broomstick’ stepmother has made sandwiches (Rose’s favourite: cheese, pickles and mushrooms) and fruit salad: strawberries, green grapes, cherries and a blood red apple. She has packed it all in Tupperware, stuck a Post It saying ‘Lunch In Fridge’ and flown away.


....I really need to think beyond fairy tale themes.

ok it's not 55 words...

The mirror glowed, the mirror gleamed. The queen looked at her face and screamed. Wrinkles fine ran up and down, the smiling face now a frown. ‘I need blood’, she said, to put back that glow. ‘Find some silly maiden who spins, lock her in your room, and do what you do best; and please, not the skin white as snow type, you know what happened the last time’.

Bluebeard sighed. Maybe one day his story would be told.

You never asked
her
if she wanted to come
back
to walk again behind you,
following
like a faithful pup
the footfalls
up and down
rugged mountains
so that
your feet could crack and hands grow rough
and people could say:
‘Look it’s ORPHEUS,
who brought her back from the dead;
praise his love.
We saw his grief
tear at the earth
till it opened, bleeding'.

The other king,
and his dark kingdom,
lay wounded,
defenseless
so that, to heal,
he yielded.

but
you never did ask
her.

55 word story challenge: re-write a fairy tale or use fairytale elements to write a story in not more than 55 words:

Crunch crunch crunch. Baba Yaga was gnawing on a bone. ‘The problem with maidens is that they ask for too much’. ‘This one, for instance, asked me for a mirror’. ‘Now another one is asking me for a glass slipper’. Rumplestiltskin, her son, nodded wisely. He knew maidens and their demands only too well.

It does not seem fair
that the morning should come
with a yawning sun
shivering in the mist,
and everything is the same way as yesterday.

Yesterday when you ran up to me,
there was summer in every leap;
I burdened by woes, imagined and real,
could forget
and see just you, so happy, so alive.

Oh I know,
the flowers over your grave will burst one day
with blossoms;
each will be like a message from you,
telling me that this,
this is life; just one; just once.

And the sunshine on the petals will
touch me too,
and for just that one moment,
you will be here again
prancing, dancing, loving life
as I never can.

But right now,
it is not fair.
The sunshine and the birdsong
go on,
and I wait my dear cat
for you.

Eurydice to Orpheus

Eurydice does not speak to me easily. This is a work in progress.


I want to be here
The other life has blurred;
and though I can feel
the sting that runs like fire
through your fingers
burnt by stringed flames,
its winter here
and slowly, I am forgetting.
Sometimes when my
feet stir a memory
of blazing winter suns
deliciously burning my soles,
I remember
us
as I walk precipices
on midnight days.