vss365 - mid May-early June

vss365 (very short story 365)

GOSSAMER
You see #gossamer, flimsy, delicate That's what I let you see What you're about to experience Is feral, lethal, fierce How could you betray me and Violate my trust? I wouldn't turn my back on me If I were you

GOSSAMER
How do I free myself from the anchor of depression? It weighs me down, heart, mind and soul, holding down my dream's #gossamer wings that used to flutter at your touch. You try to console me, but can you snatch me from the grip of this Leviathan?

FRISSON
"I can hardly believe I'm in Paris! It's so exciting and romantic!" "Do you feel a thrill for romance?" asks her driver. His gaze in the rear view sends a shudder and invasion of damp heat between her legs. He smiles knowingly. "We call that #frisson here." "More please!"

VILE
"Pity they couldn't have an open-faced casket for your sister," said Auntie. "She had such a fair face." "Had, yes," Ann said. "Vile temper though." Auntie walked away. "Not as #vile as mine," Ann whispered to the coffin. "Can't sleep w/ my husband anymore, dear sister."

WILLOW
Vanity drove the Queen to consult an Olde Crone, who brewed a bitter concoction of #willow and bile. Enraged when nothing happened, the Queen cursed the willow and fell to her death. Olde Crone added the tree's tears to the bitter tea, restoring her beauty for 100 yrs.

REVERIE
"When I was a girl, my brothers sat around the table & told fun stories about their day." "And you?" "Oh," #reverie escaped her eyes like a genie. "I was dull. I preferred to listen to everyone else." For the 1st time I realized Mom had low self esteem, & I felt for her.

PATCH
Our family arrives at Steve's Strawberry Farm, and I can hardly wait to get our haul home so mom & grandma can make shortcake, jams, & ice cream. Grandma shows me where in the #patch the sweetest ones grow & we pick until our fingers & skin are as red as our treasures.

REVERIE
One bite of grandma's strawberry shortcake, and I'm whisked back to the farm, laughter, sticky fingers, laden baskets & ladybugs. Whipped cream clouds in no hurry to move along. Savor or eat more? More! Back from my #reverie, nothing but guilty smiles and crumbs.

ORION
She pulls me along a shadowy path overtaken by mangroves. I have to trust her now, the only hint of where we are a faint scent of salt & murmuring waves. We reach a clearing, moonlight upon her face. "#Orion's Belt is dripping," she whispers and closes in on my lips.

PATCH
I yank myself free, startled yet exhilarated. "Where did that kiss come from?" "There's something starry and magnetic about you. Don't deny it. Orion's Belt can be our #patch of sky." Her chest heaves; the play of silver light &shadow on her cleavage sways me like poetry.

SILENCE
The warmth of her body merged into his, as the sensuous sway of her hips summoned a sense of urgency in him. Time to make his move. The power cut out. The music stopped, as candlelight danced on. In #silence, they kissed, beginning a new song of their own.

BREATH
She tightens her seat belt & grips the arm rests, glancing out the odd window. Cramped, but within, she is already aloft & spreading. Fingering her rosary beads, she stumbles over the words, but every God hears. She holds her #breath, as alive inside as the blue sky.

VERDANT
"Violet?" "Yes, Mom?" "It's picnic time, baby. The fields are #verdant w/ your namesake. Whip up some of your famous potato salad, & I'll get the chicken ready." "Sounds great, Mom." "Why so glum, child?" "It won't be the same without Dad." I fell into her arms and sobbed

BREATH
Violet consoled herself at a flower shop. "What smells so good?" "Peony mostly, but," the clerk giggled &led her behind the counter. "We also have gardenias. Careful, love, they bruise easily." Violet #breathed in the sweetness, and caught a whiff of her father's cologne.

MYRIAD
"How do you feel about Jermaine?" asks her therapist. "Feel? A #myriad of things. He gives me butterflies, gets my heart pounding. He makes me feel safe and protected." "So why did you kill him?" "I didn't! Why won't anyone believe me?" "You still don't remember?"

PETRICHOR
We can't please this God, but then came rain. The #petrichor reminds me of 1939 when we waited & turned to the Natives for their magic. Clouds withheld their rain & instead carried our dust. Our crops withered, our children hungered, covered in black, turning to Earth.

VEHEMENTLY (Inner Critic Series)
"You're not good enough," my inner voice says #vehemently. "Your writing is shit." "You've said that before." I yawn, still typing. "I've had enough of you. You're not even creative with your put downs anymore." Dismissing that pesky inner critic is my only way forward.

CHIMERA (Inner Critic series)
An evil breath on the back of my neck makes my spine tingle and hairs stand on end, despite the fiery heat of it. Claws or talons, I can't even tell! Fur, not feathers. Why is this #chimera hunting me?! The red pen. Time to edit. Calm the fuck down, Mackenzie.

FLOTSAM (Inner Critic series)
"Very well," says my inner critic. "#Flotsam then. Your writing is flotsam. Is that creative enough an insult for you, you hack? Give up!" "Ha. That's what the chimera red pen is for. When I'm done, I'll have a splendid manuscript on my hands. And now, you may fuck off."

ANCIENT (Inner Critic Series)
"I am #ancient as humanity itself." "Oh yeah?" I say. "I have been ridiculing creatives forever." "Mm-hmm, does that make you feel better?" "It's what I do. I abort Art." "Listen to me, INNER CRITIC, you're evil & stifle beauty, innovation and progress. Get lost!"

CRAVEN (Inner Critic series)
I woke up to what I want - a reason to write, to leverage my experience, and a strong word of encouragement w/ action items and a plan. The best part? My Inner Critic, is (at least for now) a #craven sniveling brat, crying in the corner, hiding from me and my laptop.

ANCIENT (new mother series)
Looking in my daughter's eyes for the 1st time is to enter The Sacred Sorority, as if her eyes are a veil revealing #ancient truth. One truth beyond words. Beyond love, joy, & pure astonishment. My heart sobs gratitude, as she grasps my finger and smiles fleetingly.

WILLOW (new mother series)
As she suckles and draws nourishment, I imagine walking with her through the weeping #willows of my own childhood, their swaying ballerina branches will reach down to stroke her hair. They'll share my joy at seeing my daughter and lift their branches in exultation.

LOTUS (new mother series)
Sweet, young daughter, I must name you. You burst forth from the murky waters of my womb, where nature decreed you find the sustenance you need. In that darkened madness, you magically made order and forged beauty into meaning. Tender enchantress, I name you #Lotus.