I hurried up the steps, clawing with dirty nails while sweat seeped into my eyes. “Please be there,” I whispered. A door barred my way, groaning as I forced it open, and there she was, sitting by the window, calmly staring out at a warm spring day. She turned to me, and suddenly I remembered all the dirt and blood that caked my clothes. How could I soil such a pure sight?

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Sneaking Out

Tip-toe, tip-toe.

The boards barely creaked, but still she waited, for nothing. Nothing happened, the house was quiet. She’d just raised her foot when the shadows stirred, filling the hall with wooden creaks.

A rumbling chuckle and a gruff hiss as he walked across the room. She waited, clutching her bundle as she watched his shadow grow, then finally recede. A great thump as he settled back into his chair. Static, and a brassy voice calling for attention. She hurried past, safely drowned out by the T.V.

Outside the sky was bare, stars clear as day. She stepped out, feeling the soft snow under her feet. She took one glance back, at the flickering light, the home that never was.

The wind tugged at her cloak, beckoning. She stepped out, and it was gone. Lights lined her path, other homes, other windows, but no one saw, and she did not stop.

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A short piece written as a writing exercise.

Tick, tock, the pendulum swung. All around them gears turned, and he stood still. Was he listening? Consulting some inner voice? Leather creaked as he stepped forward, shaking within his straps. Light played over his bruised flesh, highlighting the speckled web of blood underneath. What world could accept such a sight?

In his bandaged hand he held a faded page…a letter?

“My dearest William,” it read, “My latest efforts have failed. I shall not try again. This is my fate, the price of my hubris. Look upon me, and never forget what I have done.”

By the time I looked up he had already retreated into the shadows. “Mathias?”

“Good-bye-my-friend.” Soon he faded from sight; the creak of leather lost in the sound of gears.

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A short piece written as a Halloween writing exercise.

It was dark, cold and dank. Water pooled on every step, rough crags on either side. Within each alcove, a shadow, some still, others stirred, rattling their chains. One struggled to speak, but only managed a weak hiss. Through it all his hand urged her onward, past piles of bones, and cavernous teeth.

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Biking at the Beach

This is a free writing short that I wrote today at Writer’s Group. We used a nonlyric musical track as the prompt.

The ocean, just the smell was enough to make me smile. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there, just over the hill and through the bushes. Alex brushed past me, pedaling as hard as he could. It didn’t take him long to realize I wasn’t following him.

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