Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sue Renol @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Mercy
by Sue Renol

She traveled far, through murderous deserts and over raging seas. The difficulty of her journey wore down her resolve, but never dissolved it. The blighted lands held power feared by all. But the promise it offered drew her toward it without regret, despite the sacrifices she made.

When she reached the abandoned shrine, she felt the sadness of those left behind. Broken and nearly destroyed, her people were at the mercy of vengeful gods. They scorched the land, cast storms over every village large and small, and infected livestock with pestilence. They turned their backs on their children and the world created for them.

She knew there was only one way to help her people. It was the most heinous sin one could commit, but desperation drove her there. She called upon the unspoken god, the outcast and shunned among its siblings, the wicked bringer of terror and destruction. It was the first time its name had been uttered in eons, which is all it took to wake the patient beast.

A great chasm tore the very fabric of reality as it broke free of its prison. It rose in the sky above her, gazed down with eyes of fire and hate. She knew then that her people were cursed either way. Once it destroyed all other gods, her people would be at its mercy.

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Wicked Deeds: Witches, Warlocks, Demons and Other Evil Doer’s

Sometimes wicked people do wicked things simply because they can… The twelve stories in Wicked Deeds tell tales of witches and warlocks with ill intent, devilish demons bent on destruction, and other doers of evil who make the world a terrifying place. What is a mother to do when her daughter is gifted but lives under the thumb of her fanatical preacher husband who will brook no talk of the supernatural? What of a demon so desperate to free himself of a trap that he will force another to repeat his atrocities and condemn a young boy to his demonic fate? Or maybe the story of a crotchety old witch with a score to settle against the town she lives in is more to your liking – what evil will the seemingly harmless town-crazy call upon when faced with an ultimatum? If you’re looking for wicked people with supernatural abilities doing wicked things, this is the collection for you!

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Ela Lourenco @ElaLourenco @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

March_2022_Image_03

The Blushing Bride  
by Ela Lourenco

I gently tiptoe across the rose petals strewn down the aisle. Decked in all my finest jewellery, in my red silk sari like a gift waiting to be unwrapped by my eager groom. The jewels of my ancestors jingle daintily, my eyes down as I walk with the grace and hesitancy expected of young innocent girls. Someone is playing a sitar in the distance. The melancholy notes in sync with the beating of my heart.

I reach my destination and risk a glance up. The man who would be my husband is leering at me, as is his father. The stench of evil permeates the air despite the perfume of the hundreds of flowers they have bought. The flawless diamond that my soon to be family places around my neck an ice rock burdening me with their ostentation.

I exhale deeply and silently as the wedding rites are chanted. Not yet. Just a moment longer… The rubies on my headdress begin to warm. I can feel them glowing and vibrating, pulsing with the blood of thousands of innocent women shed for the pleasures of men. Sold and bought like cattle… The energy of my grandmothers and all those before them lights me up from within as I raise my eyes upwards. Red is all I see. My feet leave the ground as all those men watch, mouths gaping. And that is how they remain. Shocked and frozen in stone as I unleash the reckoning.

The red disappears, the sky is blue once again as I walk back down the aisle, alone – still the keeper of my own self.

Fiction © Copyright Ela Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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More from Ela Lourenco:

awakeningDragon Born: Book Three
Awakening

The Royal tournament, the Karnac, is fully underway. But there is deception and betrayal at every turn. Unseen dark forces are at play, both within the school grounds and out with. Even the Gods are unable to help when a new threat looms over them all.The very existence of Azmantium depends on Lara fully becoming the Child of Fire and casting aside the Shadows lurking in every corner of her beloved planet.Can she overcome the challenges that await? Will the Shadows cover the world in darkness? Only Lara and her friends can change the fate of Azmantium.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Linda Lee Rice @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

March_2022_Image_02

Circles of Light 
by Linda Lee Rice

The twisted path before me leads me further and further into the dark place. Vines wrapped around my ankles, trying to trip me and wind me in their embrace. Eyes that glowed from the trees and broken rocks watched me, only blinking when I turned away. I followed the path inward, driven by a need that only the old woman could quench.

I burst through the clearing and past the eerie windchimes of bones hanging from every branch. Her hut stood among the mist, not so much as glowing in the full moonlight as glowering. The door was an open invitation, but I feared to step across the threshold.

Gathering my shrinking courage, I stepped through and into the pungent scent of herbs, ashes…and something else. The old woman shuffled forward, grinning at my discomfort. “I knew you’d come,” she muttered and reached out to touch my arm. “Come and sit by the fire; I have the brew ready for you.”

Still not understanding my purpose for coming here, I sat on the stool and warmed my hands. “I don’t know why I’m here!” The old woman cackled, showing her toothless grin, and dipped a ladle into the contents of the boiling kettle over the fire. She poured it into an earthen cup with strange symbols.

“Drink this, and all will be revealed!” Although I didn’t want to, and my stomach retched at the smell, I found myself reaching for the cup and swallowing half of the contents. The old woman quickly drank the other half and smacked her lips.

The room spun dizzily as I slumped over onto the wall. I could still see the old woman, but she was changing. Bright circles of light appeared on her skin as I felt an answering flash on mine.

I watched in horror as her skin became smooth, beautiful, and wrinkle-free. Then, I felt my skin begin to shift and change. A tooth fell out and onto my lap as I watched her teeth begin to rise in her gums. My eyes dimmed as hers grew bright and luminous.

I struggled to speak, and the voice I heard, I didn’t recognize. “What is happening to me?” The now young witch smiled and crooned, “I have waited a millennium for you to come to my door. I had to wait until the right moment for the bloom of youth to blossom to pluck it. Now it’s your turn!”

She quickly changed into my clothes while she dressed me in her reeking foul ones. Then, she gave me a pitying smile as she turned and went out the door, “It won’t be so bad. You’ll be surprised at how fast a millennium will pass.”

So here I sit, stirring my brew, waiting for a girl to come stumbling up my path driven with an untold need…and I wait impatiently.
Fiction © Copyright Linda Lee Rice
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Linda Lee Rice:

me in burgandy hat2

Linda Lee Rice aka Ruzicka has poetry published in Twilight Times, Dark Krypt, Fables, Descending Darkness, Writing Village, Spine, and Page, Muses Gallery, Bloodbond, Lycan Valley Press Publishers, Alban Lake, Highland Park Poetry, Rosette Maleficarum, The Siren’s Call, Edify Fiction and the June Cotner anthology, “House Blessings” and “Garden Blessings

She has short stories published in The Grit, and Reminisce, Haunted Encounters: Friends and Family, FrostFire Worlds. Plus, a personal essay at Mamalode. She also has various articles and blogs published online as a freelance writer.

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Angela Yuriko Smith @AngelaYSmith @darc_nina #LoH

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The High Cost of Assumptions
by Angela Yuriko Smith

I saw her at dawn, delicate

like porcelain, some fine China to mine

and make mine. She wouldn’t mind 

my advances, my flirts, a girl like her

would like me, a hero. I showed her

my money, my green, took off my ring—

dolla dolla babydoll, I’ll make you sing.

.

I saw him at dawn

staggering down the road, lost—

and oblivious.

.

She’s hungry for me, I know

ready to go, licking her sweet lips

she wants to tickle my fancy

and I can’t wait for a taste.

With not a word, and she’s got me

this kinky doll, among the tombs—

this one’s too hot for me to handle.

.

I’m hungry for him

like a lamb, he follows me—

an early breakfast.

.

Lesson learned too late

the fair sex isn’t fair, deep sliced

deboned like fowl, I spilled my guts

secrets revealed, feeding flies on my lies.

I was just looking for fun, a tasty treat

an adventure before I settled, a story

to share over warm beer and hot wings.

.

Lesson learned too late

broken porcelain can cut—

most roses have thorns.

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More from Angela Yuriko Smith:

Angela Yuriko Smith is an American poet, author and co-publisher of Space and Time magazine, a publication that has been printing speculative fiction, art and poetry since 1966. Together we build a poem as a community each month. Visit “Exquisite Corpse” at SpaceandTime.net to submit.

Catch up with Angela here!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Nina D’Arcangela @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Nextlahualli
by Nina D’Arcangela

Pain, muscles protest the need to move. Blind, she’s dragged into the glaring light. Vertigo, the edge of the frustum too near. Thunder, the sound of blood slamming through her ears. Clarified, a feather plucked from her hair. Disrobed, slaves paint her with blest symbols. Cold, her flesh upon the altar. Splayed, her arms and legs tethered. Wet, the tears that run from her eyes. Revered, the shaman that will take her life. Fear, the sound of naked feet slapping stone. Hot, the blade that opens her throat. Froth, iron-rich gurgle that feeds the trough. Panic, the struggle to pull in air. Chanting, her people revel in the sacrifice. Silence, the body is left as an offering. Drought, the wind scrubs the plains of seed. Famine, no crop will grow. Blame, she did not appease.

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More from Nina D’Arcangela:

Mental Ward: EXPERIMENTS

A dank basement, shadow filled hallways, the deep echo of a metal latch being thrown while faint screams are heard… These are the things you might experience in a place where the unspeakable happens, where conscientious action and moral turpitude turn a blind eye in the interest of advancing one’s own personal pursuits in the most deranged and unjustifiable manner. The type of place where power corrupts, and depravity runs rampant among those imbued with it. A place where the unfortunate are abandoned to the devices of those who convince themselves their actions are in the best interest of science.

Mental Ward: Experiments is a collection of ten short stories that demonstrate the worst of humanity’s ambition in the interest of ‘civilized’ advancement. Step into a world where sanity is left behind, and horror is what the doctor ordered!

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Melissa R. Mendelson @melissmendelson @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

March_2022_Image_03

She Closed Her Eyes
by Melissa R. Mendelson

Her toes curled along the edge, reaching for the soft velvet underneath her.  Warmth caressed her arms, and a gentle jingle filled her ears.  Metal kissed skin, and satin wrapped around her.  Her toes reached along the edge again when a strong breeze met her face.

“Everyone, this is Ikshana.”  Her sister’s hand wrapped around hers.  It was no longer cold for her sister finally saw that she was right.  The man that she loved was far from being good, but the one that she was forced to marry would give her everything that she wanted.  “Sai, this is Ikshana.”

Her sister pulled her closer, but Ikshana stopped moving, giving her sister a gentle smile.  “I got it,” she said.  “You can let go of my hand now.”

“Why is her eyes closed?”  That must have been Sai, who said that.  She liked his voice, but voices could be deceiving.  “She can’t see the room, so how is she going to find me?”

Because I cheated, Ikshana thought.  When she was alone, she opened her eyes, looking at a picture of the ballroom.  She knew where the tables were, and even if the chairs were pulled out, her fingers were extended, ready to brush against them like whiskers.  And she listened to the shoes tapping against the wooden floor, but Sai’s feet were quiet, surprising her a moment later with a hand on her arm.

“Nice to meet you, Ikshana,” Sai said.  “Why are your eyes closed?”

She listened to her sister walk away.  Her sister was so tired of that question.  She wasn’t around for the beginning when the sight set in, and her parents refused to talk about it now.  They would change the conversation or walk away, and she could smell her father’s strong cologne nearby.  Glass clinked against the jewelry on her mother’s face, her eyes probably avoiding everyone else’s.

“I didn’t think you were blind,” Sai said.

“Is that a problem?”  She turned her head towards his voice.  “Do you not like someone that is blind?”

“No, I didn’t mean any harm.  I just didn’t know about it, but you’re beautiful.  You’re very beautiful.”  He was quiet for a moment.  “I’m sorry that your first marriage didn’t work out.”

“Me too.”  A drink was placed into her hand.  She felt a waiter brush by and held the glass out for them to take.

“You don’t drink?”

“No, I don’t.”  The waiter took the drink and left.

“So, what happened to your first husband?”

“He fell.”  She moved toward the wall, and he followed.  “Fell down a flight of stairs.”

“Freak accident,” and she smiled at his words.  “Here.”  He pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit down.  “Are you comfortable?”

“Rarely,” she muttered.  “I’m fine.  How are our parents getting along?”

“Okay.”  She didn’t believe that.  “Well, kind of okay.”

“What does my family get out of this arrangement?”  She sensed his surprise.  “Money?”

“Nothing.  Our fathers met and thought that we would be a good match for each other.”  He turned away from her.

“Something wrong?”

“My shoelaces are untied.”

She took the opportunity to open her eyes.  As she suspected, nobody was paying attention to them.  They were too busy enjoying themselves, but one young girl saw her eyes and gasped.  Was it the blue color, or that they looked reptilian?

She focused on Sai.  He wasn’t too tall, and his hair was short and brown.  His skin a soft tan.  He seemed okay, and she relaxed.  That was until she saw the gray mist lift off his body and out into the air around them.  The mist whispered that he had never done a single harm to anyone, but there would come a time, where he would.  And he would get away with it, and a chill raced down her spine.

She glanced at his glass resting on the table.  He was still occupied with his shoe, fumbling with the laces.  She pulled at the edge of her silver snake bracelet that was wrapped around her arm, a gift from her grandmother, the only one that she would see with these eyes, and a small shard fell into her palm.  She dropped it into his glass as he sat up and watched him reach for it, but he stopped for a moment, almost to look at her.  But then he downed his drink, and she closed her eyes.

Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
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About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a Horror, Science-Fiction, and Dystopian Author. Her short stories have been published by Sirens Call Publications, Dark Helix Press, and Transmundane Press. She also has a variety of short stories and poetry available on Medium.

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Michelle Joy Gallagher @Aphelia @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

March_2022_Image_02

Appropriate Punishment 
by Michelle Joy Gallagher

“I watched the light leave my mothers eyes at a train station when I was just 7 years old. A man bludgeoned her with a fire extinguisher he’d ripped off the wall because she refused to give him change. She told me to run but I’d only gotten as far as the stairwell when her screams filled the station then stopped. I couldn’t help but watch.

No one looked up. No one helped her. I ran up the stairs and into traffic, cars screeching to a halt around me. That’s it. That’s the worst day of my life.”

“Objection your honor!” An overweight district attorney spat, his face growing more red with each word. Ruth had forgotten his name. “The purpose of the telling phase of any trial is to adequately select the day in which the criminal must relive as appropriate punishment.”

The judge stared at the DA blankly. “Sustained. Ma’am please try and refrain from emotionally illicit language during this phase. Counsel?”

The court appointed defense wore an ill fitting suit jacket. He was young and still passionate but he looked like a kid playing dress up. Ruth flinched anytime he spoke.”

“Your honor, I feel the selection of this memory would be considered cruel. There are a few more-“

He was abruptly cut off by the judge.

“Ms. Sama has been convicted of murder in the first degree and desecration of a corpse. You’re arguing cruelty?”

Her attorney nodded. “Yes sir. And the man she killed?” She patted his hand. “It’s alright.”

The judge had had enough. “Is he here to defend himself? What he did in life is inconsequential. Ms. Ruth Sama is hereby sentenced to 10 years memory replay without incarceration. I hope your decade of being haunted by your mother’s last breath sobers you.”

She was whisked out of the courtroom surrounded by what seemed like the entirety of the San Diego Sheriff’s department.

They drove her to a lab that was unmarked. An imposing cement edifice with no windows. Inside the smell of antiseptic made the back of her throat itch. She was seated in a reclining chair with an attachment that reminded her of the dryers at the salon. It was lowered over the top of her head, while an attendant clacked away on a keyboard, the monitor out of sight.

“You’ll hear a slight buzzing sound and then a click. You might have a metallic taste in your mouth for a few days, but it will fade.”

Ruth only nodded. There was a buzz and a click and her mouth tasted like copper, but then a searing pain shot through her skull and a hot white light filled her vision. He hadn’t prepared her for that. She groaned in pain and he smirked. He got off on it. Her face felt sunburnt and she couldn’t tell if it was from the procedure or anger welling up.

Then she heard it. A panicked voice that echoed around the room and shot through her: “Ruthie baby, RUN!”

She couldn’t see her mother, but the man who killed her stood behind the lab tech, fire extinguisher in his hands. He raised it over his head and brought it down onto her mothers head. Blood spattered onto the lab tech’s jacket and onto the counter behind him. He didn’t react. The procedure had been a success.

Fiction © Copyright Michelle Joy Gallagher
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Michelle Joy Gallagher:
31dLq1v2KHL._SX308_BO1,204,203,200_Disremembering
Welcome to Blackhawk, Colorado. Blackhawk has always been strange. Natural disasters. Disappearances. Murders. High strangeness is a part of daily life. We can’t hope to explain it, but we can chronicle its past. Learn from it. Fear it. Blackhawk is an experimental fiction series set in a shared universe, written by a variety of talented authors. It is the brainchild of David M Brown (Plague Doctor, Modern Animals) and Carl D Smith (Moleb the Giant, Darkness Out of Carthage). Each story will contribute to an organic, evolving mythology as diverse as the voices behind its tales. For fans of True Detective, Lost Highway, Twilight Zone, and The Terror. This is Volume Two of the series and contains five stories by five different authors, each in tune with the specific strangeness Blackhawk has to offer. NOTE: For fans of Lake Lord Publishing’s prior horror titles, be warned that Blackhawk will contain content that is perhaps more disturbing and mature.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Asena Lourenco @ElaLourenco @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

March_2022_Image_01

Your Grace  
by Asena Lourenco

“Arms out wide, with grace” she spoke,

“Again, with pace, and do not choke.”

Blood-tainted sweat rolled down my skin in constant drips,

Sweltering spittle formed at the pool of scarlet by my lip,

Lungs emptied of oxygen, limbs numb as stone,

Muscles burning like flame, but somehow still chilled to the bone. 

My self-critic crying with each wrong move,

Battling the struggle to get others to approve,

But the next morning, as my reflection looked back at me,

A timid, lonely girl was all that I could see,

The pinky hue of my lips could not hide the 

red mark,

And the thick layers of makeup could not hide the circles so dark,

As I walked out the towering door, the sky came into view,

It almost seemed as though it was hiding something too,

As the pale pastels danced around like waves above,

For a brief moment in time, there was an illusion that that would be enough,

But as the greys broke through and the clouds started to close in,

The beautiful illusion was suddenly broken,

And as a thousand faces gathered around, no sound from one,

It became clear that the ritual had finally begun,

“Perform when ready, with much more pace.”

“Remember your arms up high, and wide, your grace.”

 

Fiction © Copyright Asena Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

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More about Asena Lourenco:

AsenaAsena Lourenco is 14 years old. She loves reading, playing Scottish traditional fiddle music on her violin, dancing, and martial arts as well as writing her own stories.

She would like to be a teacher and writer when she grows up. She also loves cats and babies!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Elizabeth H. Smith @bethsmithwrites @Sotet_Angyal #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Fury of Light
by Elizabeth H. Smith

She always knew this day might come, as it had for so many of her loved ones. The sky speaks in tones only she can hear. Omens soar above to translate; the message is clear—she must go to the temple. She walks without fear, but carries the weight of hopelessness. As she walks up the steps the veil beckons. She obeys. The sun commands she succumb to its fury. She turns away from its gaze as it judges without reservation. Light thins the physical realm, walls begin to fade. The after thirsts for fresh blood, wants for new flesh. Its thunderous appetite cannot be ignored or escaped. Her eyes lower as heat boils the air. She takes one last breath and braces herself for the transition from this world to the next.

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More About Elizabeth H. Smith:
Elizabeth H. Smith is a storyteller who writes while trying to keep her cat, Luna off the keyboard. The musical group, Rasputina is her muse. She was born in the state of New York and would never feel at home anywhere else.

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Through Clouded Eyes: A Zombie’s Point of View

Through Clouded Eyes: A Zombie’s Point of View: a collection of twelve stories told from the Zombie’s perspective.

They’re shambling toward you, feet dragging on the broken roadway. Arms outstretched, faces slack, they move as if they’re tracking your scent on the wind. You want to run, but you know there’s nowhere to hide.

Aware of their insatiable hunger, fear paralyzes you. These things were once human, people someone loved. Is there anything left inside them – some sliver of humanity that may save you from this nightmare? Your mind doesn’t want to accept the inevitable, a single thought consumes you: what are they thinking?

With your chance of escape dwindling, you snap out of it and run like hell knowing there is little to no hope; fate is coming for you. Soon you will see what they see Through Clouded Eyes…

Featuring stories from Maynard Blackoak, Calvin Demmer, Paul M. Feeney, Stacy Fileccia, Trevor Firetog, DH Hanni, Shannon Lawrence, Josh MacLeod, Zachary O’Shea, Neal Privett, Mark Steinwachs, and Alex Woolf

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Alex Grehy @indigodreamers @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Aspects of the Goddess  
by Alex Grehy

I am the goddess incarnate, infinite, glorious.

Why did you forget that? Did you ever know?

.

Let me teach you now.

.

When we first met, I was the maiden, still in school,

pure, accomplished, role model, leader, top of the class. 

The goddess of wisdom lived in me, cultured, shrewd.

.

Why did you just see a plaything?

.

We married, young, by the blessing of our parents;

I, a gift given, much more than the worth of my dowry

The abundant goddess lived in me, wealthy, optimistic.

.

Why did you just see the gold?

.

Your betrayals aged me, long before the years could wreak

their havoc, as you paraded in public with your mistresses.

The mother goddess raged in me, furious, frustrated. 

.

Why did you just see an unworthy husk?

.

I conceived a child, from love, not by your seed, but by 

your example, as your bastards brashly roamed the town.

The mother goddess grew in me, nurturing, satisfied.

.

Why did you just see your honour shamed?

.

You threw acid in my face, beat me, sought to break me;

My son, born in a savage tide of blood, torn from life too soon.

The goddess of justice rose in me, wrathful, fierce.

.

Why did you just see a transgressor crushed?

.

I smile, my eyes downcast, focused on my task. I carve 

these lessons in your flesh, deep, deeper, you have a lot to learn.

The unbroken goddess fulfills me, triumphant, vengeful, free.

.

Why did you just see me as your property?

.

Blood dyes your skin brighter than henna as I carve the last design,

then cleanse the cuts with lemon juice, and hold the mirror high.

The goddess of death is in me now, do you finally see?

.

Fiction © Copyright Alex Grehy
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Alex Grehy:

147443997_865719290883677_3441953034998826390_n

After a lifetime of writing technical non-fiction, Alex Grey is fulfilling her dream of writing poems and stories that engage the reader’s emotions. Her work has been featured by a wide range of publications including Siren’s Call, Raconteur, Bookends Review, and Toasted Cheese. One of her comic poems is also available via a worldwide network of public fiction dispensers managed by French publisher, Short Edition. Her ingredients for contentment are narrow boating, greyhounds, singing and chocolate. It is a sweet life, yet Alex’ original view of the world has led to her best friend to say ‘For someone so lovely, you’re very twisted!

Please click here to discover more!   

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