It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! We’ve got a variety of genres and talented writers just waiting for you to come sample their wordy wares. Come read one, or all, or pick a few like leftover holiday memories….
And, if you’re inclined to share your own 8-10 sentence snippet, follow the link and sign up. It’s a great community to be a part of! =D
Last week, I wrote that things were falling back into place. This week, it’s more torn apart. My Accomplice is on vacation, and there are things I’ve wanted done in my study that he’s planning to help with this week. So I’m moving everything out of about a third of the room, organizing and decluttering as I go. Fortunately, the standing desk I ordered last week arrived today, and he assembled it for me, so I have a mobile work station to use while the improvements are made. It’s a bit of an adjustment, but I’ve been wanting to sit less, and this is a step in that direction, aside from the fact that I’m going to have a considerably more functional study when everything’s finished (which, since I’m typing this on Wednesday night, it may well be before you read this).
And so, all other things aside, it’s time for Eight Sentence Sunday, where I’m sharing “A Splash of Red” in its entirety. This surreal fantasy story is the child of my own life and dreams, with a generous dollop of imagery and a big dash of creative license…
More on the story after the nine-sentence snippet.
Context, such as it is…A woman is attempting to win the trust of a little girl in a red dress, while hawks wheel above…but just who are these two to one another? And what about those hawks?
When we left last week, the little girl was somewhere in the woods, and the woman was learning to breathe while she coped with the threat of a stooping hawk.
Given the surrealism of the story, punctuation is a bit creative, so be warned!
Crouched and Unmoving
I give all I am to flowing and running – and the hawk lifts, joins its mate, wheeling in the bright sky, vivid with sharp menace, feathers brighter than the changing leaves. I run, flow, and listen, afraid to call out for her lest the hawks hear me and use me to find her.
I feel her, leading me into the woods, into her own inner wilderness. Here, somewhere, she has taken refuge, only there was no refuge from the hawks – for these are no natural creatures. Their sustenance is the purging of their rage, born of their long-festering wounds. They wheel in the bright sky, vivid with sharp menace, feathers brighter than the changing leaves.
A splash of red ahead, crouched and unmoving, half under a decaying log. My breath gasps to a halt. I try to listen, but all is the surging of lifeblood in my ears, and the wind of a change I may be too late to stop.
Previous “A Splash of Red” snippets:
Is the little girl all right?
Will the hawks leave them in peace?
Can the woman win the child’s trust?
Can they heal together?
Come on back next week to find out more!
Did you like what you read? “A Splash of Red” was originally published in the 2014 inaugural edition of World Unknown Review, Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my own initial self-publishing experiment.
That being said, I’d love any and all input and criticism you’re inclined to offer!