Thursday, October 13, 2011

The King of Hell


I'm not really digging this entry, but I want to get back into the challenge again. To me, it doesn't really embody this week's word, but it's the best I came up with.  This is (very) loosely based off of the television show Supernatural.


Like many people before me, I sold my soul to the Devil for fortune and fame. I sealed the deal with a kiss, and my blood ran cold as our lips touched. I looked into her seductive, red eyes and I knew there was now an invisible expiration date printed on my forehead. Even though I currently have my freedom, I’ll never be satisfied, because the Devil owns my soul. I know what awaits me on the other side: fire, brimstone, and the devil that claims to loves me. I am the man forced to be the King of Hell.

Monday, October 3, 2011

It just dawned on me that now that I am putting my work out there for the world to see it may be stolen. Please don't steal my work. It will make me a very sad lady. I don't like to be sad. Happy is where it's at, and comments and critique, as long as they're constructive and not hateful, make me happy.

All the best,
Britt

Thursday, September 29, 2011


My not so great attempt a poetry, but I really love this poem.
I rode across the ocean in a paper boat
And my eyes beheld such beauty
But still I longed for more
I sailed into the sea
And there my paper boat sank
That is where they thought I died
The sea swallowed my soul
My paper boat became foam
And I became the beauty that I sought

Losing Sanity


My sanity escapes me at the moment, please forgive me. Lately the time that I am accustomed to has been shrinking. I have fewer days to air out my mind, and free myself from these God awful thoughts that plague me. The less I clear my mind the more the thoughts build, and take shape into horrible beings. They claw at my brain with demon-like talons. They howl like rabid beasts intent on destroying me. I can always feel them. The longer I go without a brief break of sanity, the more power they gain. I fear that they will take over soon.

Untitled

Another work-in-progress:


I left him. We had been fighting. We fought about everything then. He didn’t like how I folded his shirts, and I didn’t like how he filled the dishwasher. If something needed to be cleaned we would fight about who had to clean it. One of us would always claim that it was the others turn, because they had done it last time. God, it was all so stupid and petty.
When I left we were arguing about how little time he spent with me. He was hanging out with friends at the local bars. It was only a few times a week, and he was always home before midnight. He never came home drunk, never hit me. He barely even drank. All he wanted to do was spend time with his friends. I don’t know why I couldn’t see his point, but all I could do was focus on my feelings. How could he not understand how I felt? I was so angry and frustrated. I just wanted to run; so I did. I screamed at him that I was going for a drive while I grabbed my keys. I didn’t even grab a jacket I was so blinded by anger.
I threw myself into the frigid car, jammed my key in the ignition and twisted. My little white Toyota came to life. I paused just long enough to look at the door and contemplate turning the car off and going inside to apologize, but my poor judgment got the better of me, as usual. I backed out of my snow covered driveway and into the road. I put my slowly warming car into drive and started off. At first I drove carefully, then, I started to think about the argument. With each thought my speed elevated. I knew it was stupid, but that didn’t stop me. Snow gracefully floated toward ground. It was truly a beautiful winter night, but I took no notice. I just continued to drive. I ignored everything but the horizon ahead. I drove out of the town and started to descend from our mountain hideaway. The turns were sharp, but I knew how to handle these winding roads.
On the third turn I hit a patch of black ice. I never could have seen it coming. My little Toyota spun out of control towards the edge of the road, and then rolled down the side of the mountain until it was stopped by a tree. The car folded in half around the tree so that the front and back end touched. I didn’t feel any pain, just regret. I spent too much of my life fighting and being petty. I didn’t even tell him that I loved him before I left, or that I was sorry. I just left. There would be no more fighting, no more pettiness, and no more apologies. My life was over in seconds, and I had left so much unsaid and undone.  (Continue…)

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Death of a Monarch

I haven't updated here for quite a while. This story is my brainchild. It's a continuous work-in-progress, so critique is more than welcome. The title is even a work in progress.


A single butterfly quickly fluttered past my head while a plump, balding man chased after it with an oversized net. In one overly dramatic swing of his net the graceful monarch was captured. With a cruel, uncaring smile the plump man pinned the orange clad beauty to a five inch by five inch cork board. Slowly the man looked up at me, the cold smile still on his face, and I felt a chill run up my spine. I quickly looked away and continued toward my destination through the empty park; the man soon followed. My orange and black dress fluttered as I walked, just like the majestic monarch’s wings had. I quickened my pace as I realized what was to come, but I had realized this far too late. The whistling of the oversized net was the last thing I heard before it crashed around me. Before I had not noticed that the net could easily fit a slender person inside, but as soon as I had become the net’s next inhabitance this realization could not escape me. I violently thrashed about trying to find a weakness in the construction of the massive net, sadly, I found none. Soon I became so tangled within my bright orange and black dress that I fell to the ground. The plump, balding man pulled the human sized net off of me, but I was too exhausted to try to escape. The man was talking as he snapped several pictures of me, but all I could hear was my loud heart beat filling my ears. I closed my eyes as I accepted my unavoidable fate. Pain like fire filled my body; it started at my heart and grew with every breath. The last thing I saw before my eyes closed for eternity was the cruel fat man unpinning the now lifeless monarch butterfly from its five by five cork board, and gently placing it over my heart. My eyesight grew dark, my labored breathing stopped, and I became nothing more than an organic monument to a dead monarch.
Orange and black wings slowly began to tremble, and then they fluttered once, twice, three times. Once the lone monarch became accustomed to its wings it embarked upon its journey into the sky. The beautiful butterfly left behind the sad world of death it had been born upon. As the dazzling monarch butterfly climbed into the brilliant blue sky, the vision of the butterfly killer and his latest prey disappeared and was replaced with a beautiful world filled with a rainbow of butterflies. An old man and a young boy appeared in the distance. The young boy carried with him a net. As the old man and boy drew nearer the butterflies could overhear their conversation.
 “My son,” the old man said, “our job is to create new life from old life. Go catch a butterfly and I shall show you.”
The young boy turned from his father and watched as butterflies danced from flower to flower and then up into the air. His eyes landed on a beautiful monarch butterfly. Silently he walked over to it, gently raised his net and scooped it off its flower perch and brought it to his father.
The father then asked “This butterfly will soon be a person, shall it be a boy or a girl?”
The boy thought and then replied “A girl!”
The old man let out a deep chuckle. He gently plucked the monarch beauty from the net and motioned for his son to watch. The man brought the butterfly close to his mouth and whispered to it. Gracefully, the orange clad monarch rose from his hand and began to flutter towards the ground; then, amazingly, through the ground itself. The boy looked to his father and noticed he had moved to a nearby well so the boy followed him.
“Watch” was all his father said. So he did.
The water showed the orange and black monarch flutter to the windowsill of a hospital room. A moment later the cry of a baby could be heard from within the room. On the windowsill sat the lifeless body of a once beautiful monarch butterfly. Soon its body was carried away by a gust of wind; the dead bug floated through the air until an ugly fat man with an oversized net caught the dull orange and black butterfly. The balding fat man cradled the lifeless corpse in his stubby hands, one large tear leaked out of his left eye and landed upon the bugs withered and wrinkled wing. From the dampened spot, color began to brighten and spread across the butterfly’s body. Soon it was once again a bright orange and black beauty. The monarch launched itself from the fat man’s hand and into the air to begin its journey in this new land that it had unknowingly visited so many times before. The ugly balding man with the oversized net watched the noble beauty until it was just a dot in the blue sky, then he turned on his heels and lumbered off into the darkness to await his next victim.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Black Widow's Game

I'm back from my mini hiatus. This week's word was a little difficult for me, but its better to have something rather than nothing.


Damn boy, you’ve got some serious lack of game. I definitely came to this bar so you could buy me a drink, try to guess my sign, and woo my phone number from my lips. I’m not that tipsy, so don’t get your hopes up; and for the love of all that is good, please do not use another line on me. If you can’t manage that I’ll have to settle with you. I’ve already roofied your drink just to shut you up. You’re not really my type, but I bet your body would throw the police off my trail.