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: Winter Cometh

It’s a celebration (or condemnation, I’m not sure) of the winter season on today’s Drabble Wednesday…

Echoes of Winter

The snow fell deep and frigid that winter season. At night, doors were bolted against the cold, and hearths snapped with blazing logs and roasting meat. Dogs snuggled at their master’s feet, pricking their ears to catch the howl of the wolves outside. And under the rising moon, fields of snow sparkled while rabbits fled the sound of scratching footsteps.

Crunch, crunch, came the noise of each footfall. A line of tracks led from the woods, displayed in the moonlight through the frozen expanse. But nowhere to be seen, not silhouette nor form, was the creature that made those tracks...

Ice

Like lemmings they gathered at the sites, with their cameras and their cell phones recording the slow moving, ever encroaching ice. The air echoed with laughter, jokes; it seemed an entertaining game. They captured the scene on shaky video and in snapshots, and uploaded it all to the digital stream. It even went viral.

Such innocence was fleeting, for they never realized the significance. Until far too late. Never realized that the ice heralded the first moments of the end, the beginning of the final ice age of Earth.

Now they wait, we all wait, as the last fires die…

Bad Winter

I can’t believe this weather!  Nothing but blowing wind, snow, and arctic cold!  I don’t like whining, but when icicles are forming on the inside of the windows and even the cat’s toes are turning blue with the cold, it’s time to complain.

The heating won’t work; I think the oil froze.  Wood is running low for the stove and the food supply is down to four cans of peaches, half a roast chicken and one prune.  I’d call for help, but my fingers are too stiff to dial the phone.  This snowstorm had better break soon or we’re doomed.

Snow and Globes

I poured myself some coffee made from fresh melted snow and adjusted my new top hat to a jaunty angle.  I tossed the carrot in the dustbin, and sat down at the kitchen table to admire the seventeen orbs of my snow globes.  They were safe now.

Maybe I should've felt guilty about what I did, but he got what he deserved for cheating in the snowball fight.  I’m not giving my snow globes to a cheat, not even Frosty the Snowman.

No, he got a hair dryer and bucket instead.  And he melted like silly putty on a grill.