Writing Prompt

[shadesong]

Embers.


(my writing prompts. images i like.)

Comments

Thank You For This.

[ex-infragil.livejournal.com]

The candle was without malice, a single flame hanging on an indifferent wick. I, tired and longing for sleep, hovered close, moth-like, my fingers clutched around the torn pages of a newly-destroyed book, one with a modest red cover and a drawing of a tree.

I swallowed hard. The inside of my mouth felt like wine, but more acidic and, resolutely staring at the only light left in this tiny room, I lifted one wrinkled page to its beckoning heat.

Serpentine, the paper started burning, first at the edges and then closer inward, devouring words written in graphite and love. I could feel the flame approaching my fingertips but was too transfixed to let go. When it was finally too much, when the embers licked my index finger, I quickly shoved that finger in my mouth, still wine-acidic, and suckled on the pain
of finally burning these paper bridges.

Re: Thank You For This.

[shadesong.livejournal.com]

:) Well-met.

[techempage.livejournal.com]

He stared into the dying fire. The barricade he had built around his home was gone. It had kept the world out. Kept him safe. But as time went on, he realized his liberator was nothing more than a prison of his own design. So he took a match to it and let it burn to make himself free. It started so slowly, but minute by minute the fire grew, taking more and more of the barricade with it. Only the fire was not content just to to just burn the walls around him, it spread. First it took his garden, his only sustenance in his "sanctuary." It spread on to his home, burning everything he owned. He swam to the middle of the lake, realizing what he started was far past his control. He swam and watched as everything around him was engulfed in flames. And as it died down he finally ventured back onto the land. Just staring at what remained of the fire, the ashes that were once his life. He stared at the embers, something so small, grew big, gained control and then left its mark even in its death. The glowing embers were all that were left of everything he had, excluding the clothes on his back. He went and found some wood that was not totally burned, that somehow survived, and combined it with the embers. He had to get warm and dry somehow. Tomorrow was a new day and a new world for him.

[techempage.livejournal.com]

~chuckles~ I no sooner write that I'm struggling with fiction, than you have a prompt and images flood into my head.

[shadesong.livejournal.com]

I live to serve. :)

[techempage.livejournal.com]

So many replies, so little time. ~grins~

[miintikwa.livejournal.com]

The fire had burned beyond the point of no return. The embers were barely glowing beneath a fine covering of ash. Deya turned from the fireplace, automatically looking around for Liria, though the bird had been far from her these past two years. Is it worth it, she wondered yet again.

And, yet again, when she doubted, the laughter of her sons made it all worth it. Waving their pudgy baby arms they came pelting in, piping voices calling to her about the wonders they'd seen that day. Two tiny whirlwinds attaching themselves to her legs, competing for her attention. She knelt, enfolding them into her arms, holding them tight against her. Their voices flowed over her, the words not registering as she closed her eyes and prayed that they would not hate her when she had to leave.

Of course, she had no idea how different her leave-taking would become...