I think the recent hot weather has dried up my “well of ideas” a little over the past week or so. Perhaps also it’s because my “real world” has been a bit manic. Who knows!
In an attempt to keep these posts varied and fresh, I’m going to play a game with this post. Using an idea from a tutorial book I downloaded a while ago, I’ve taken ten words and will weave each of them into a short piece of fiction.
At least that’s the plan! Here goes….
The ten words are –
gamble, exact, bow, tower, risen, spin, soil, shame, melt, attack.
Wish me luck!
The full moon had risen, partially hidden behind a wispy veil of clouds. As the clouds parted its silvery light shone down on the pile of soil that marked the fresh grave.
A few hours earlier, from the sanctuary of the church tower, the dark angel had watched as a small group of mourners had paid their last respects to the old woman. The same old woman on whom she had fed a few days before. At the head of the grave, the old woman’s dog had sat watching as its mistress’ coffin was slowly lowered into the cold damp depths of the earth. Now, hours later the dog still sat in the exact same spot.
It had never been her intention to make the old woman her prey. Her sights had been set on younger richer blood but the risks associated with drinking from her preferred choice had been too great. It had proved to be too big a gamble for her to take that night. A small part of the dark angel felt a sense of shame at her attack on the woman.
Gliding soundlessly down from the church, the angel landed beside the grave. Time to pay her silent last respects. Something in the lunar magic of the full moon was tugging at the remnants of her lost soul. As she landed on the damp grass, the dog looked up. Politely she made a deep bow to the grave and the dog. Mirroring her futile gesture of apology, the dog lowered its head too.
A distant sound caused the angel to spin round and re-focus her attentions on the moonlit road that ran behind the dry stane wall of the graveyard. Thud. Thud. Thud. The steady rhythmic tread of the approaching runner caused the last glimmers of remorse to melt away into the night.
Deep within her the angel could feel her hunger stir, no longer satiated by octogenarian blood. Without a backward glance she spread her wings and took to the air in silent pursuit of her next feast.
Did you find all ten words?
(the start of the angels’ tale can be found above under fiction- short stuff and is titled Silently Watching)