Drabble Wednesday: Lost Things

Today on Drabble Wednesday I muse on things lost: memories, guardians, children...

Waiting

I remember the days before the Great Kingdoms.

Before the War and the Invaders from Across the Sea.

Before we served our conquering masters.

In those days we lived free. We were not governed by cruel kings, or benevolent queens, or petty warlords. We lived as nomads and farmers, each town, village or tribe ruled by Elder Councils, chosen by the people. And we had no need for mercenaries or soldiers, for we had protectors.

Until their blood spilled by the betrayer’s hand. Then they left us to the Invaders.

But they’ll return, one day.

The Dragons will come home.

~*~

Afternoon Tea

I traced the flower pattern on the tea cup with my finger. It seemed familiar to me, a fragment of memory floating out of reach. The afternoon sun was warm, and a breeze wafted the smell of gardenia. The table in the garden is set for two, a pot of hot tea ready, and a plate of pretty sandwiches.

But I’m alone.

A shadow fell across the lace tablecloth.

A woman sat down at the table and smiled at me. “Sorry, I’m late.”

I stared, suddenly confused. I grip the table edge. “Who are you?”

“It’s me, Mom, your daughter.”

~*~

Night Falls

Such a small mistake, ignoring her father’s warning, running after a bird into the trees.

“Stay on the path, Anna. Always stay on the path. You don’t want to lose your way in the forest.”

Now the sun had set and the weather turned cold, the bitter wind made her bones shiver. The moonlight snaked through the tree cover, enough light to that the child stumbled about underbrush for hour or two before collapsing in fright and exhaustion. She leaned against a tree, her face wet with tears.

She knew. She was lost in the night.

Lost in the woods.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Lost in the Woods

Today on Drabble Wednesday we venture far into the deep, dark woods, among the horrors and the primal fears…

Welcome, Dearie

Welcome dearie, to my humble cottage in the woods. It’s not much, I’m sure you consider it very meager. But I’m a poor old woman, with no coffers of gold. I have to make do with odd jobs.

Like the one your wife gave me.

You shouldn’t have cheated on her, you know.

But don’t you worry, I’ll try to make the killing painless. Take comfort in the fact your meat and bones will fill my larder and belly for some time. I won’t waste a thing.

So what will it be, oh Prince?

The carving knife or the cleaver?

~*~

Cursed

It is dark in Onyx Woods.

The sun never creeps within its shadows, and it never knows light. The wind blows cold, and whispers horrors to gloom. The trees sway and moan, and sometimes scream in pain. The damp, loamy earth smells of perpetual blood.

It is dark in Onyx Woods.

Not a living creature skitters through that forest, though shapes move like grey mist. No birds sing, no mice scurry, but things move within its depths. Things shift and shriek and shudder.

Stay away from Onyx Woods

The ghosts of the dead linger there.

The ghosts of the damned.

~*~

Princess

Such a damsel I distress am I.

Lost in the woods.

I’m so frightened.

Oh, someone come and save me!

I can’t believe that lame prince bought my act. All I had to do was bat my eyes, tell a sob story, and pretend to faint. The gullible fool whisked me to his castle, and after some weeks of feigned simpering asked me to marry him.

Of course, I said yes.

Once we’re wed I’ll poison his wine to ensure I get my hands on his riches.

And it sure beats being hunted through those woods for murdering my step-mother.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Halloween Week: Step Into The Woods

Happy Halloween!

For this day of scare fests, we travel the forest path, far into the darkness…

Calling You

A single voice.

A sweetling voice.

A treble tone, and sing-song notes, of joy and giggling.

A voice to dance among the treetops and sing among the posies. A voice that calls, Come hither, come hither. It’s a beautiful day. It beckons and you will follow.

You will follow it off the safest path, and within the darkest woods. You will follow past the perfume scents and through the sharpest thorns. You will follow though the sun has set and the night is always met. You will chase the voice around the trees, and see them all appear. Their yellow eyes, their sharpened teeth, their fetid whispers in your ear.

And then the voice, that sweetling voice, that voice will call your name.

It will sing your song, your final song, and then your life will end…

With a screaming voice.

Your single voice.

Buried Bones

I miss the warmth of the sunlight.

It is too cold and dark buried here beneath the earth.

I miss the sounds of laughter, of my sweet children’s voices.

Interred deep, I hear nothing save the scrabbling of mice and insects.

I miss the moon, I miss the stars, but not the night.

Without eyes, I live in darkness.

I miss the smell of perfume on my skin. I miss my skin.

Would that I could turn back time.

Would that I could live again.

But I am nothing but murdered bones.

Trapped and forgotten under the forest soil.

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved

Thank you for joining me in this week long celebration of Halloween fun.
Have a great and scary day!

And remember, as a Halloween treat, you still have until midnight October 31^st
to download both books in my Killers and Demons series for free on Smashwords. 

Check them out here:

Killers and Demons

Killers and Demons II: They Return

Halloween Week: Rebirth

Something’s Coming…

Rebirth

Evening raindrops clung to a broken spider web, and fallen leaves held water like tiny crumbling cups. Silence draped across the forest; the animals fled at sunset when the sky shed its first tear. Even the carrion birds flew away, and the rodents scampered deep down into their holes.

The animals knew.

No moon graced the shrouded sky, and no starry luminosity scattered the inky air swallowing the trees. Fog crept like silky spiders, thick and velvet over the ground, obscuring earth and flora. Grey met black and swirled, mingling, melding in a darkling kiss.

And the night waited.

It waited in stillness, the breath of air grave and expectant with longing. It waited cold and cavernous, as if time gave this occasion pause. And then… past the midnight hour it came. A faint noise from beneath the onyx soil. Scrabbling, scratching, fingernails in the dirt.

Digging upward.

The ground trembled, softly, gently, as if a lover’s touch caressed it. The wind sighed, dancing among the trees and twirling with the hoary mist. Slowly, slowly, the earth gave way, the soil parted, cracked, and a bony hand burrowed out from beneath the world. Then a shoulder, and a head, and the thin skeletal remains of what once was human.

It cried.

A hoarse, guttural pain.

It hungered.

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved

And so ends today's Halloween fun.
Tomorrow is our last day of Halloween Week, with one last horror story.
I hope you'll join me, as we go for a final walk in the woods...

And remember, for a Halloween treat, both books in my Killers and Demons series

are free until midnight October 31^st on Smashwords. 

Check them out here:

Killers and Demons

Killers and Demons II: They Return

Drabble Wednesday: Into the Woods

Today on Drabble Wednesday I venture into the deep, dark woods where witches, wolves and wishes lurk beyond the shadows…

The Wolves of Wickham

Everyone knew not to venture into the forests of Wickham. Every soul in the village, from the tiniest tot to the most elderly, stayed far away from the woods. Bad things happened to a person when they went into the trees. Most never came out, and those that did, well… screams and blood usually accompanied them.

Yet… here was Frederick, blundering about the underbrush, crashing through the branches in panic trying to find his way home, trying in flee the forest. Behind him something growled, and then another something.

Poor Frederick. You see, the wolves of Wickham are always hungry.

The Crone

Such a harmless figure, the old woman, a plaid woolen shawl—the colour of brown earth—drawn over her stooped head and shoulders. She leans heavily on her gnarled cane as she moves, her thin hand unconsciously smoothing a wrinkled skirt and stained apron. At first careless glance she presents the familiar picture of an innocuous granny.

But first glances can deceive. Look closer. Those stains on her apron, are they red? Like blood? Her smile, does hold a touch of wicked, a malicious grin? And those sinewy fingers, have they worked dark magic, perhaps murdered man and beast alike?

Wishes

The full silver moon sprinkles stardust over the forest canopy. Light filters though the trees to cast a radiant reflection in the still waters of an old wishing well. The moon knows the ancient well intimately; they are enduring friends of long acquaintance and secrets.

A figure approaches the well. The moonlight shifts, ever so subtly, lighting her path. She tosses the golden coin she clutched, and it arcs, then hits the water with a splash, falling deep within the well.

“I wish to marry Eli.”

The water shimmers with magic cast.

In the morning Eli's wife will be dead.

#CoffinHop Day 2: Into the Woods

Into the Woods

Once Upon a Time…

If that phrase conjures up image of Disney Princesses and happy endings then you’re missing out on the delightfully dark aspects of fairy tales. The ones that come with the original versions of the stories, where sinister woodlands held wicked witches, vengeful spirits, cannibalistic queens, murderous ogres and all manner of things out to kill you. Even the princes had a sinister edge, with not-so-charming intentions.

Now I love the Disney animated films, but my childhood involved reading more nasty versions, namely Grimm’s Fairy Tales. These are the stories that bite, where menacing things prowl in the darkness, behind the trees and even invade your home. In these stories bad things happened, and even the happy endings could seem rather imperfect.

These stories had a spooky ambience and a lurid nature, dark and dripping in blood and terror, but being a main character in one of these fairy tales wasn't easy. A walk in the woods could get you eaten by wolves, captured by witches (who wanted to cook and eat you) or turned into some kind of animal. Even family wasn't safe. Step-mothers, mothers-in-law, fathers and siblings could all conspire to kill you. They could be hungry for your flesh, jealous of your beauty, or just greedy for your gold.

And those Not-So-Charming Princes I mentioned? Well, they tended to scoop up their Princesses without so much as a by-your-leave (I mean who whisks off girls they've just met in a forest?) and marched them to the altar as quick as they could (or do even worse, as in the original Sleeping Beauty tale). Happily ever after for these heroines often meant being forcibly snatched from the life you knew and wedded to a stranger (and sometimes being persecuted by his crazy witch mother).

So the next time you think of fairy tales, don't imagine pretty princesses, shiver in horror.  And remember:  death (and a witch) lurks around every corner, family can't be trusted, and stay away from princes.

I hope you'll visit some of the other hoppers  (scroll down, way down, to find the list) and don't forget to enter my Rafflecopter Contest.

a Rafflecopter giveaway