Search

Bedoor Bluemoon

Everyday writing to expose the soul

Category

SHORT STORY

Dancing Nymphs

iwp50

via Image Writing Prompt #50

‘Do you think we can drink there?’

‘No I heard it was cursed.’

‘But surely a small sip wouldn’t hurt.’

‘I wouldn’t but I can’t stop you.’

‘If anything happens, tell my mom I love her.’

‘Don’t do it then, Gareth.’

‘I can’t help it, I’m very thirsty.  We’ve been walking for ten days now and we barely had enough water to quench our thirst.’

‘I heard if you drink from it you will be faced with your biggest nightmare.  There’s another stream up ahead, can’t you be patient a bit more?’

‘I’ll try.  I just hear it calling me, like a siren.  Gaaaareeetthhhhh… Gaaaareeetthhhhh… so softly and gently.  Can’t you hear your name?’

Silence…

‘I hear it!!! I hear it calling me too!’

‘Do you think anything that is cursed can be so beautiful?’

‘Yes, let’s try to block out the sound and walk forward.’

The walk towards the lake became harder as the mountain got steeper.  They knew it was best to turn to the left side, to take the road most sane people would take but the call cannot be ignored.  Gareth and Liam heard their names being called over and over again, a sweet Siren singing and waiting for her loved one.  They both were best friends and archaeologists who got onto this adventure in attempt to find out more about a temple built in the 4th Century A.D.  There were numerous rumors about such a temple and the village people all said that they would see the temple rise up to the top of the mountain every forty days.  It was then that they would lay their offerings of fruits, vegetables, meat, and poultry at the bottom of the mountain and initiate a dance of pledges to the Gods of the mountains and the holy temple within.  They also knew that the lake was cursed, and that nobody should drink from it and that when a person does, he is struck with madness.

Gareth and Liam didn’t pay attention to the folk tales and were determined to see the temple rise.  They arrived in Odes just one day after the supposed rise and were waiting anxiously for the days to pass.  They were reluctant, skeptical, and finally hopeful and never gave up.  They started the walk and had no help from Odesians who held onto each other in fear.

The lake was calling them.  They heard their names so clearly as they reached near it and their thirst increased tenfold with the dry air.  It was Liam who saw them first.  Creatures that looked like mermaids splashing in and out of the water with their long hair.

‘Mermaids!’

‘No nymphs, they don’t have tails.’

They decided to hide from sight and watch the magic they were meant to witness.

The sunlight shone directly on a golden rock situated in the middle of the lake.  Each of the nymphs entered the water three times, her skin turning from a subtle yellow to a pink, a blue, and finally to lilac.  She would then sit on the rock and brush her hair with a wooden comb into a side braid tied with a piece of grass.  Finally, she would walk on the water towards the big olive tree and sit down, singing.  It seemed to be a method of cleansing, a baptism of sorts, as each nymph did exactly the same.  When the final nymph took its place and formed a semi circle of beauty, the earth shook and the lake opened.  From within, twelve men wearing white robes marched up stairs that weren’t there before.  They approached the beautiful creatures and each took one in his hand and led her to the wide opening in the trees.

The singing continued and it seemed like it was coming from all around.  The sound of a harp and a flute playing light music.  They started dancing.  Smiles and laughter filled the air and suddenly, they felt themselves rise above ground.  Gareth and Liam smiled at each other in disbelief as the lake with its surroundings rose to the top of the mountain.  They could see the lights of the village below, see the offerings next to the three torches, and were wondering in awe.  It was spectacular.

A few hours of dance, the temple, they realized, started to descend.  The men went back in the lake and the nymphs walked into the dense trees behind them.  All the magic was gone.

‘What was that!?’

‘I don’t know.  Let’s go back and tell everyone’

‘Yes.’

They walked in silence, repeating what they saw and reliving every moment.  They tried to reach conclusions as to why this happens and who are those men but didn’t find the answer.

A few steps towards Odes and all this will be recorded.  Yes, just a few more steps and we will be famous!  Gareth and Liam.

Gaaaaareeeetttthhhhhh…..  Liiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaamm….

‘I don’t want to leave.’

‘Leave what?’

‘here.’

‘What’s here?’

‘hmm.. I don’t know.  Why are we here?’

‘I think we wanted some water.  Let’s not drink from this lake, I heard it’s cursed.’

‘Let’s just go back down, there’s no rising temple.’

‘What a waste of time.’

DADACHYO.full.2104818

Image from https://www.zerochan.net/2104818

Advertisements

The Piano

iwp43

via Image Writing Prompt #43

“You never play anymore, you just sit there,” I told my dad one afternoon as the light fell on the black and white keys and his unwavering hands.  He seemed lost in thought as always and kept his eyes fixed on his fingers.  I recalled how the music notes would fill our home from early morning before we were ready to go to school.  It was the sound of the keys and the smell of the coffee that made our home what it was.

And now, the sound ceased to exist.

It was three months ago when my mother passed away so suddenly.  It was a calm night in March when I heard her being rushed down the stairs with my dad.  I came out of my room with my headphones on my shoulders not knowing what was going on.  She had on her light blue robe and was pale as a ghost.  She was holding onto her stomach and screaming from pain and dad was barely able to stand, let alone attend to her.  “Don’t worry hon, I just feel a bit sick but I’ll be back.”  She tried to comfort me sweetly.  I believed her, I always believed my mom.  I never thought she would ever lie to me or ever leave me.

But she did.

There was nothing they could do to stop it.  It was unexpected and so sudden that I would find myself forgetting she was gone, like waking up and expecting to smell the coffee.  My dad couldn’t arrange anything for her funeral so my aunt took the heavy responsibility off our chests.  It was dark, dim, and morbid like any other funeral regardless of the weather.

And to make matters worse, the sound of the piano stopped.  “You never play anymore, you just sit there,” I stated again.

She’s gone.  He whispered, with a tear rolling down his cheek.

Fully Booked

Reservation

reading

She looked up from her book as she heard a person calling , “miss, do you need this chair?”  Her eyes needed a few seconds to readjust and she couldn’t find her voice fast enough so she nodded.  “Thank you,” he said with a quick smile.  He was a handsome man.  She looked at him walking towards his group of friends and tried to figure him out.  What was a person like him doing in a cafe like this at this time?

It was barely 8 a.m. and Beth was used to taking her coffee in the cafe situated at the corner of her flat.  She liked the view and the airiness of the place, in addition to the hospitality of the middle aged owner and her daughter.  It was usually a quiet place, a place where people would walk in, grab a coffee and a bite to go, and leave.  The two tables that were set for dine in guests were seldom busy and it was very odd that this morning the second chair on her table was needed to accommodate a group of four men.

She tried to resume her reading but felt like someone was watching her.  She looked up and she was right: he was watching her from a few feet away and smiled.  She smiled back and unconsciously rubbed her left hand before looking back down at her book blushing.

The words were getting fuzzy, she closed her eyes for a few seconds and tried to refocus.  This was her sanctuary and she wasn’t going to allow anything or anyone to ruin it for her.  She took a sip of her latte and glanced up.  He had a cup in his hand and nodded in her direction.  This is ridiculous, she thought to herself.  He’s just being friendly.

She managed to believe herself and went back to reading.  Time passed by and she could hear the group saying their farewells.  She looked up and saw that he was putting on his suit jacket.  Probably off to work, she thought to herself.

In her mind, she imagined him seated behind a big desk with his grey hair glistening in the sunlight behind him.  His forearms bulging beneath his black suit as he walks across to welcome her into his lair.  Towering over her, she smiles coyly as he puts his arms around her and ushers her in.

“Thank you,” he says pulling her away from her fantasy.  “I read that book, it’s good,” he remarks. “How are you liking it so far?”

“I’m enjoying it very much.” She whispers.

“mind if I join you?  I don’t need to be at work till after lunch.” He asks

She looked at him quietly and sighs, recalling the heartbreak that is yet to heal and the pain her ex-husband caused her.

“I’m sorry, I’m fully booked for this year with myself.  Maybe next year we can catch up.”

The Frog Princess- Truth

via Image Writing Prompt #39

‘Are you a frog or a prince?’

‘A princess actually.’

‘I was just kidding I didn’t expect you to talk.’

‘Why not?’

‘This is not real!’

‘Define real’

‘Anything that is tangible. Anything we can use our senses to identify’

‘I beg to differ. There are intangible things that are real too. Things we know in our minds which cannot be clearly conceptualized’

‘Such as?’

’The truth’

‘Is the truth real?’

‘It depends. Is it my truth or your truth?’

‘My truth, of course.’

‘Your truth is real for you but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s real for me’

‘Give me an example’

‘Flies, to me, taste good. This is the truth I reached have used my sense of taste. I don’t think you would prefer flies over whatever you had for breakfast this morning’

‘Why isn’t there one truth for us all?’

‘Because that means we have to conceptualize things the same way, but we don’t have the same senses nor do we share the same thoughts.’

‘How is it that we need to use our limited and subjective senses to conceptualize and define our personal intangible truth, and then hold onto it without questioning the lack of logic behind our theories? If we need to define the truth with our senses does it mean that our senses are superior to the truth?’

‘It means we are blessed with the tools to think but what we do with these tools are entirely up to us. Some people use these tools to live their days and some use these tools to find out more about what we are doing on this world and the truth we all seek.’

‘Do all living creatures seek the truth?’

‘Some already found their truths and are living happily’

‘What truth should we be looking for?’

‘A good truth to start searching for is why you stopped to talk to a frog? What truth are you coming from?’

‘Ah but that is not the question here, princess. The question is why do you consider yourself a princess where I can clearly see you as a frog’

‘Is that true?’

‘It’s true for me’

‘If I see myself as a princess then that’s my truth regardless of what you see’

‘You are a frog’

‘And you think so because you see that using your subjective biased and limited sight?’

‘Yes’

‘And you are basing your theory on your subjective, biased, and limited senses?’

‘Yes’

‘Then, my dear child، you have learned nothing’

Eyes

via Writing Prompt #381

eyes

Crumpled paper covers every flat surface of his room, he can’t get the eyes right.  He is usually very good at sketching portraits but the eyes were haunting him.  It all started one day in his dream.  He dreamed he was sitting next to the lake hand in hand with a lady dressed in a light blue dress.  She had her head covered by an over-sized hat and her delicate fingers wrapped in pink lace gloves.  Her brown hair did not move.  It was propped and primped into soft waves that cascaded around her face and framed her small features.  She was looking down at her hands and her long thick lashes set themselves ever so gently on her cheekbones.

He wondered who the lady may be but didn’t know how ask.  He was afraid to speak lest the calmness be disturbed by his voice.  He wanted to whisper her name, but what was her name?  He studied her face and the bridge of her nose while her eyelashes fluttered with the breeze.  She was exquisitely beautiful, perfect in every way imaginable to man and he wondered what she was doing with him.

He coughed gently, trying to get her attention and to feast his eyes upon her face.  He saw her cheeks rise in a smile and the glisten of her teeth between her rosy lips as she raised her face to look at his.  That’s when he saw her eyes.

He tried to sketch them again and again but nothing comes close to the captivating spell of her lashes.  Nothing comes close to the arch of her eyebrow, nothing comes close to the glimmer reflecting in her iris, and no shade of blue comes close to the depth of her inner sea.  He was mesmerized at that moment, captured in her jail and transferred to eternal salvation.  Or is it damnation?  He knew that it was then that he lost all sanity and no longer became a free man.  He knew that it was she who held the key to his heart forever.

Crumpled papers turned to canvases and walls filled with pencil sketches, oil paints, water colors, chalks, and markers.  Nothing of the ordinary seemed valuable to him anymore as he continued his search for the perfect eye.  He looked forward to sleep every night just to see her again but sleep became scarce and hope disintegrated into madness.  Madness that consumed his soul and he was left with nothing but crumpled papers and a dream.

Choices

via Writing Prompt #377

burka

He looked from one covered face to the next, trying to understand how this is all happening to him, why he is expected to choose his future wife in such a bizarre way.  His mother stood still eyeing the girls and clicking her tongue in disapproval whenever one of them looks up.  It was so sudden for Hamza, he expected to at least unpack his bags before setting off to his uncle’s house.  But no, his parents were waiting for him in the car and were determined to marry him by the end of the week.

Hamza just finished his engineering degree in Frankfurt and was having a great time when his parents called and asked him to come back home.  So soon? he asked.  You got your degree, there’s no excuse to stay.  He knew that being the perfect Muslim son meant following your parent’s wishes and so reluctantly packed his bags to go home.

But home wasn’t the same.  He didn’t know of his parent’s plan nor did he wish to indulge them into imagining that he would marry based on nothing.  He stared into the faces and thought that they were all the same.  Some of the girls were shorter, others were chubbier, yet their eyes remained set down.  He tried to think what would make a difference in a marriage and his mind took him to his cycling days on the main river where he saw old couples holding hands and walking.  He would like that, he thought to himself.  He would very much like to grow old with someone he understands and who understands him.  The problem is how can he make sure that behind burka number #1 is the right person or maybe behind burka #4 is a better fit.

His father was standing outside with his uncle chatting and laughing, not realizing that Hamza was being sent to a slaughterhouse.  His mother was tired of waiting and came over to whisper,

“my boy, choose any of the girls, they are all good Muslims.”

“but mom, how would I know if I will be happy with her?”

“you won’t know, my son.  Just choose and let us get this over with.  Your uncle thinks you should marry one of his daughters and keep the money within the family which is true.  Why marry someone poor when you can get richer as a bargain.”

Richer as a bargain, he scoffed and looked at the girls one more time.  They didn’t seem to release any hints, none looked him in the eye, and none twitched.  He sighed, here goes nothing.

He chooses quickly without understanding what his choice means, without caring that this gamble of a marriage is as successful as any.  He doesn’t care what goes on in his life after this, his society may have enforced the face covers on his cousins but his heart is forced to be covered too.  It doesn’t matter who he marries, as long as the money stays within the family.

 

The Gift

iwp37

Image Writing Prompt #37

Jacqueline stood next to the shop waiting for her best friend, Danielle, to show up.  It was a sunny Saturday morning in the small village of Piana where trade was plenty and spirits were high.  Danielle skipped down the road and smiled at Jacqueline who held up the bag of coins they managed to save from the beginning of the year.  It was finally time to buy the gift.

Both girls entered the shop reluctantly:  Jacqueline with her high blond ponytail and Danielle’s short black hair were out of place in the high class French accessories shop but they didn’t seem to realize.

  • There are too many to choose from, aren’t there?
  • I know

They walked past a red velvet hat that caught Jacqueline’s eye.

  • how about this one?
  • I don’t think my mom likes the color red.  What about your mom?
  • She prefers dark colors.

Danielle’s hand touched a brown leather glove with a fur trim.  She picked it up and took in the musky scent, smiling.  It dawned to her that her mother’s gloves were worn out and immediately thought this would be the best gift.  Jacqueline was eyeing a black velvet hat with a yellow bow imagining how it would look on her mother’s head.  She loved how her hair glistened in the sun and her blue eyes twinkled when she saw her coming home from school.

They stood next to the cash register clutching tight onto their new possessions.  Their heads barely reaching the table as they raised themselves onto their toes to see the saleslady.

  • Good day, how much for these?
  • Hello little girls.  Do you have enough money for both?
  • Yes, we were saving for a long time and want to give our mothers a present.
  • That’s nice.  15 francs for both

The girls giggled and handed the money over, keeping the extra few coins for themselves.  The items were packed neatly in separate pink bags and both girls skipped outside the store.  They hugged each other, smiling and giggling, not believing that they were finally able to buy something so beautiful for their mothers.

They walked down the long and grey path, two girls with identical bags and smiles upon their faces, hoping that their gifts will be accepted with a smile.

The Freezing Lake

Source: Writing Prompt #350

images
She floated above the freezing lake waiting for the monster to reveal itself.  The cold air fluttered around her like pigeons.  She sighed, breathing warmth into her cold hands.  A little ripple barely noticed was all that she needed to smile.  He’s come, she thought to herself.

She turned to her right just as the monster’s head gently surfaced.  His blue skin was sleek with water dripping down, his green eyes glittering with the reflection of the mountains around.  Sarah, is it time?  It said in husky voice.

  • yes, my dear.  It is finally time
  • And are you certain that you’ve made the right decision?  Is this the right way forward?
  • Yes, I am certain.  I have thought of this long and hard.  I cannot bear to think what could happen lest I stay.

No answer, the sound of silence was calming.  She looked at the monster whose head was rested on its back and thought of the many days she spent conversing with her friend.  Their friendship was anything but conventional and she will miss it dearly.

  • The road you are taking is dangerous.  There is no way back.
  • I don’t want to come back
  • What if you do?  What if you miss me?
  • You will always be in my heart, Barlac
  • Will you remember me?
  • Always
  • You will be too busy with test after test.  It is not sheltered out there as it is with me
  • I am ready to undergo all the tests that are sent my way

More silence.  A cold wind brushed across Sarah’s face.

  • Are you already packed?
  • Yes
  • Did you pack everything you need?  Did you pack something to eat and something to drink?
  • I only packed my food and water
  • What about your clothes?
  • I don’t need anything more than what I’m wearing
  • It will get too cold

The sun was setting and Sarah felt like it was now or never

  • Barlac?
  • Yes, my dear
  • What will you do without me?
  • I will wait
  • Wait?
  • Yes, I will wait for another girl to stumble upon my lake so as to teach her the secrets of life
  • But life is out there, not in here
  • Is it?
  • Yes.  Everything you taught me cannot be applied in the outside world!
  • Can’t it?
  • Is this good bye?
  • Yes.  Thank you for everything
  • Never forget who you are
  • I won’t.

And with that, Barlac tipped forward onto Sarah’s head in what can only be considered a kiss and quietly descended back into the quietness of the lake.  She stood taking the scenery in for the last time, recalling the days she sat discussing Barlac’s teachings, debating morals and historical events, and uncovering answers for questions she never asked.  It was time to learn and unlearn, time to move on, and time for another chapter in her life.

You Will Pay

Source: Writing Prompt #348

 

knife.jpg

She somehow finds the last of her energy and launches herself up and at him with the knife.  She could taste the familiar metallic tang in her mouth and knew that her lip was bleeding.  It barely healed before this episode.  It was a daily ritual for him as he enters the house and immediately loses his mind.  It wasn’t anything important or drastic this time.  It was that his dinner was a bit cold.

The reason was never really important or drastic.  The children are still awake.  The lights in the kitchen were on.  Her friend called during dinnertime.  All ridiculous reasons.

But this time, when she felt her head bang on the table again, it was as if something or someone possessed her.  She could feel her eyes swelling and her lip burst open but she didn’t cry again.  This time was different.  She wasn’t afraid.  She didn’t cocoon into a fetal position rocking and crying and begging him to stop.  This time she was angry.

It all boiled within her in seconds.  She saw a flash of everyday of the last ten years: every slap, every punch, every beating.  She saw how she would bow in shame and follow his orders.  She even recalled how she lost her baby a few years.  It all came back to her.  He told her she wouldn’t be spared just because she was pregnant.  She begged for him to have mercy on their child but he just laughed.  A hysterical laugh and said, “do you think that you can get away with your mistakes?” The anger of it all, the horror of her life, the burden she kept all arose in her and exploded.  She exploded.

She pulled herself to the counter and rested her head on its cool surface.  She saw the knife eyeing her and her hand crept towards it, with a life of its own.  She wasn’t her hurt obedient self; she was the woman she always wanted to be.  She turned with the knife clutched between her fingers and madness in her eyes.

You will pay.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑