Drabble Wednesday: Silent Stars and Skies

Today on Drabble Wednesday look to the sky...

Instant Nightmare

Help me!

Someone, anyone! I can see you. Down there on the street. Look up! Someone look up!

A downdraft blew across the sidewalk stirring dust. A man clamped a hand on his hat and a child jumped over a gusting newspaper. He was rebuked by his mother.

Help me! Don’t let them take me! Do something!

Another flurry of wind blustered over the gathered crowd.

Please do something! Help me! Save me!

They all stared at the body. One whispered, “He just collapsed. So sudden.”

While above it all, black winged creatures dragged the man’s soul higher and higher...

~*~

Dream a Little Dream

I used to stare into the night sky, and wish upon the stars.

I imagined the day I would fly into space, when I would soar among those pinpricks of heavenly light, exploring. My goal was to glimpse new suns, set my foot upon the dust and dirt of unfamiliar landscapes. I dreamt of discovery, delving into the mysterious beauty and strange alien existence of the universe.

I used to stare into the night sky, and wish upon the stars.

Before I knew what was out there.

Before they came to our planet.

Before we became their new feeding ground.

~*~

Mission Alpha

“Twinkle, twinkle little star

Above our world, so near, so far

Like a time bomb in the sky

Boom, boom, and now we die.”

First Engineer ZYF779 scowled, or as close to the expression as an android could approximate. “Stop being so morbid. The Sunstar Station hasn’t gone critical yet. We can fix the reactor before it detonates.”

Second Engineer THX732 turned away from the transport window. “Yes. This time. But you know the moon colony is living on borrowed time without an upgrade.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. We’ve been abandoned by Earth Command.”

“Twinkle, twinkle little star.” 

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Festival of Drabbles: Discord and Harmony

And we come to our farewell post for this wondrous Festival of Drabbles. I shall play you out with a bit of a dark melody…

Rime and Season

The frost wind swirled down from the mountain, and the icicles hanging from the trees chimed with its passing. It blew down the cobblestone streets, and around the corners and cracks of brick and mortar. It rattled the wooden shutters and howled down the chimneys. It churned the snow drifts and swooshed about the settled grime.

Nothing else moved in the quiet, solemn town.

Nothing else would ever move in this place again.

They occupied each house, every structure. While the wind howled, while the snow blew, the dead remained. Frozen, lifeless, forever locked in an eternal world of ice.

~*~

Desert Song

Across the sands, beyond the dunes, when the Mother of Moons rises in the night sky, you can hear their song on the sirocco winds. A velvet melody vibrating through the amber radiance, twirling in the light of the desert moon. They sing arias, of roses blooming in the paradise oasis, of the first raindrop and its petrichor echo. Their chorus shivers the firmament that binds the universe, and soothes the disquieted fires of the soul.

They serenade of all things sacred, but beware, listen too long…

…and the Night Sisters will sing you to your final place of dreams.

~*~

Just An Old Tune

The guitar sits in the corner, weather-beaten, with dust gathering across its worn down varnish and strings. It has some scratches and some blackened streaks; it has survived much. Countless hands have plucked it chords—old and young--through wars, through blistering summers, and long cold winters. It has strummed many a tune, and captured the vivacity of spirits in the melodies it harmonized.

Spirits it never let go.

Sorry souls that bled their happiness into the hungry maw of a demon instrument. And now… well that guitar, it’s waiting to be played.

By the next servant of the devil.

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved

And today’s the last day to downloaded my book Passing Fancies for free on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/151594

Drabble Wednesday: Teardrops

Today on Drabble Wednesday we shed a tear - in rain, in plague, in envy…

Tears of the Moon

The shadow moon rose among the gathering clouds, its grey form stark against the sombre sky. Her eyes watched its climb, a scream lodged in her throat, her palms pressed forcefully on the window pane. Each breath came shallow, held for a fraction of time, hoping for his appearance.

Why did he have to go? Why tonight? He said he would return in time. But he’s not home.

A single tear fell, hitting the window sill. A matching water drop struck the outside of the glass.

The rains are coming.

The Old Gods will awaken.

And they will be hungry.

Grief of the Dead

Jeff hurried through the deserted streets. The plague seemly died out in their neighbourhood, but he didn’t wish to linger outside. It didn’t take much, and it didn’t take long. It was a risk, but they needed food. The possibility of dying was better than listening to Ryan’s sad cries.

He pushed open the front door. His son lay on the floor. His wife knelt beside him. Something felt wrong.

“What happened?”

“He’s dead.” His wife turned.

Jeff gasped. He dropped the scavenged bag of groceries.

Diseased, white, tear stained eyes stared at him. Blood covered her mouth.

Jeff screamed.

Dark Reflection

A thick, sooty tear, the consistency of tar oozed down her cheek, and he collected it in the vial. He watched for a moment as she slept, her breathing even, her face peaceful. She suspected nothing of his spell. He’d be flayed alive if she did.

He left to his workshop, mixed her tear into a potion and took his weekly dose of her magic. Soon, he’d drain her dry and these nightly visits would end. He’d miss them. He’d miss her.

But only one evil wizard could prevail in this tower, and he was tired of being her apprentice.

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 

Drabble Wednesday: Midnight

From the forgetfulness of my mind and the call of my midnight muse, I bring you today’s Drabble Wednesday, scribbled in the wee hours of last night…

Witching Hour

The night bird sings in the treetop, keeping time with the warble of the wind. Above them, the moon glows, pale blue and full, lighting the way of the coming traveller. She treads softly, her footsteps a bare whisper across dirt and leaves as she wends her way through the forest. She smiles at the moon and joins the night bird’s song with a faint humming. She has come to sing to ghosts and spirits, to weave her spells and laugh with the joy of magic. She belongs to this place, this time, the midnight of the pale blue moon.

Midnight in Paris

Watch the clouds drift in the indigo sky, playing hide and seek with stars, and the coquette, silver moon. They beckon, those celestial beauties, flashing their siren gaze earthward. They glint and twinkle starlight and moonbeams to the city streets, and reflect their radiance off the steel beacon of the Eiffel Tower.

This is Paris at night, in darkened splendour, alive with the quiet, and the gentle sounds of evening. Hear the Seine ripple, against soft laughter and the click of heels. Amidst it all we linger, strolling hand in hand, midnight lovers waiting for the morning sun to rise.

Midnight Man

The crow caws once, then twice more. The air shivers, and the grass bends at the edge of the woods. A cold, grey fog rolls in, thick as wool, carrying a silhouette. A figure.

Can you see him now? The Midnight Man.

Tall and gangly, all angles and crisp bits, dressed in black. He wears a long coat and a top hat. The crows gather round him in flight, and one perches on his spindly arm.

Stay quiet. Don’t let him see you.
You mustn’t look into his eyes… they say his eyes are hollow. Inky voids sinking into death.

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 

Drabble Wednesday: Crypts and Bones

Today on Drabble Wednesday we visit the realm of Death…

Past the Moonlit Arch

Two figures, black hooded cloaks dark as spilled ink, stand guard on opposite sides of the arch. Aria stares through the opening , at the sterling pearl of a moon in the raven shadowed sky.

“Will it hurt?” she whispers to her guardian and escort.

“Only for a moment, and then you will be free.”

Her steps are hesitant, but steady, as she walks down the path to her fate, through the archway, past the stone, to halt under the moonlight.

She inhales, a brief, delicate sound, her last act before the horned beast rips out her heart and feasts.

Always a Bride

She stroked the faded ivory silk, the lace yellowed with age. The edges had tattered, and the pink ribbon fastened around her waist, but it was still her wedding dress. She remembered that day, her marriage. She had been happy.

If she only knew. That her precious joy would turn to ash when her husband imprisoned her in his family crypt. Each day she believed she would die, but as the years rotted away her flesh, she remained. A haunted skeleton living in her tomb.

A noise made her turn her skull, her neck bones creaking. Her husband was visiting.

Three Stones

Molly wiped away her tears, afraid her mind finally snapped from grief. She stared at three gravestones under a forest tree. Graves that appeared out of nowhere.

Come closer, Molly.

Molly jumped back. She knew those voices.

Come closer, Molly.

“Mama? Daddy?”

Heart soaring, not caring if she was insane, she raced forward to the graves, lured by the sound of the impossible. Molly gasped. Three names were inscribed on the stones.

“Richard. Janet. My parents.” She trembled. “And Molly? What does it mean?”

That we saved a place for you.

Molly screamed as the earth opened and swallowed her.

Drabble Wednesday: New Year’s Eve

Here’s the strange and slightly out of this world New Year’s Eve edition of Drabble Wednesday…

A Glitch in Time

Tick, tick, tick

The sound in my head, always time tick-tocking.

Tick, tick, tick.

Shut it off! Stop the clockwork, stop the sound!

Tick, tick, tick

Something’s wrong, not right, always the noise, always the clockwork in my head.

Tick, tick, tick

Tick-tock. Goes the clock. Always in my head. Wish I were dead.

Tick, tick, tick

Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!

Tick, tick, tick

What can I do? For silence, for quiet? All I want is quiet.

Tick, tick, tick

But what’s a mechanical man to do, when the clockwork is him?

Tick, tick, tick

Mystical Renewal

I watched as the crows flew past the shining moon, like flowing black ink over parchment. The lunar beauty dominated the sky, even overshadowing the darkening clouds. It was a perfect night to usher in a new year.

I poured the sanctified oil, shaping a circle in the snow, and knelt inside its confines, cold seeping into my bones. I bent my head and intoned the ritual prayer, extending my hands in supplication. For three breaths, I felt nothing, then the blessed radiance of the moon flowed into my flesh and blood. Suspended between earth and heaven before I transformed.

New Year’s Moon

~Base Dispatch News~

Well, Moon Base Alpha decked the halls for Christmas, and transformed the dining hall into a moonlight ballroom for New Year’s Eve. The party boasted a Dance Under the Stars theme with the latest holographic decorations.

Base personnel partied hard, donning festive hats and downing drinks. There were the usual indiscretions and high jinks, and chaotic excitement when Lieutenant Mills’ Flashineger Beastie got out its cage and knocked over the Orion cocktails. However, it was the midnight countdown that set everyone abuzz. No one expected our commander to bare his backside to ring in the New Year.