Damned Words 2

bolts2

Betrayal
Dan Dillard

It began with one.
But bolt by bolt and rail by rail,
Walls he could not scale.
Leaving was to no avail.
The bastard.

I didn’t mean it as a snare,
At first, it was not a jail.
He had his way, but didn’t care
And now I laugh, I sit and stare.
I watch as he wails and calls
Begging me, “Tear down the walls!”
I  will not.

He will pay with dread and deal with pain.
The love I gave him not in vain.
The cage I built, his blood to stain.
He won’t make this mistake again.

rule

Shiny, Pretty Things
Nina D’Arcangela

Obediently loyal, begging of my affection. Shining vibrantly, fools each one. Seeking my notice among the many. They cling to the side, perfection in every space; none dare lag behind. Repugnant they are.

One does catch my eye, not the brightest, not the flawless; but the least refined. Standing in front, lacking shimmer; displaying the audacity to perch to the left, head skewed slightly off kilter. Perhaps one of these fools is deserving. What use have I of minions made perfect? Give me the challenge; I will break him to my ideal. Yes, this one may be indeed be worthy.

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Sworn
Joseph A. Pinto

 I thought you would follow, but the willow reed swallowed me whole
At least that’s the excuse you sold…
I’d been too busy tightening bolts
Preparing for traffic that would never come.
On the opposite end of nothing now
I’ve teetered upon this sharp edge far too long
Waiting for that willow reed to part
A path once cut through it; I suppose now it’s gone
Should my bridge someday be crossed
Unlike that lost, forgotten route
I’ll keep to tightening bolts, even if my hands get torn
The willow reed once led the way, at least
So you’d sworn.

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Cheap Champagne
Tyr Kieran

My vision blurs as if mocking the slur that hindered my tongue for the last hour. On the balcony, the cold aluminum railing burns my cheek, but serves to support me while I regain balance.

I’ve drowned out our honeymoon night, but she kept feeding me full glasses.

Agony hits and I collapse.

My new bride ignores me as she packs a suitcase on the bed.

“Help.” I moan. “It hurts!”

She steps out onto the terrace through the open sliding door and squeezes my face in her hands.

“Yeah, poison will do that, Dear. Thanks for the life insurance.”

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Harvest House
Thomas Brown

Each day, when morning breaks, the gates unlock. Blue-eyed boys and blond-haired girls hop, skip and jump, crack silly jokes, kick chequered balls into an empty sky. A bell rings and they rush inside; Tom, Dan, Joe, Little Hunter drink juice, help themselves to biscuits, laughing, throwing punches, wiping crumbs from round their messy mouths.

After lunch the children play inside, read stories (Nina sings), fall fast asleep, and then, in that calm, soporific state begin to change. Skin shivers, splits revealing shells, long insect legs, click-clacking tongues; by night a horrid, hungry hive trapped inside this, their steel penal-nest.

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Once Upon A Troll
Blaze McRob

This was once a peaceful place, the bridge above my home wooden and old. No one used it. Ah, except for the occasional foolish school child taking a short cut home. Tasty little creatures for a troll such as me.

Then they put in the steel girder bridge so the train could run over my home. No Damned peace now!

Tonight is a special run. The train will be filled with people.

The rivets are so easy for my strong fingers to turn and remove. Just perfect.

Falling into the middle of the river, the train will run no more.

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Sealed Promises
Leslie Moon

All my living fears buried, banished, bolted
contained beneath earth’s seas.
Bound are the monsters was their promise to me.
***
My logic sneers, “Is the box today’s illusion?”
Placate and pacify where set in stone is a new dependence
and false security they can’t deny.
***
Their promises  fit neatly in those little pill squares.
Now that the voices have gotten louder where do I run?
Their hot breath growing fouler.
*
Red eyes at morning taunt my blinds.
Does no one heed the warning?
Make room in the canvas sack, seal out the sounds.
Give my reason back!

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The Greatest Fraud
Daemonwulf

I see a world that no longer is, one in which I cannot live. Just as today, and each before, my mind closes another door. But like a movie without an end, the fire takes me back again. Life and death whiz past my head, I hear a thousand screams of dread.  I taste the blood upon my tongue, and smell the burning of the young.  While blades of green replace hot sands, I watch my life pour through red hands. I now know it was a war of swine that caused me to cross this bridge in pine.


Each piece of fiction is the copyright of its respective author
and may not be reproduced without prior consent.
Image © Copyright Dark Angel Photography. All Rights Reserved.

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35 responses to “Damned Words 2”

  1. jaimiengle says :

    Man, you guys rock. When I grow up, I want to be a Damned writer!! 🙂

    Like

  2. mari wells says :

    Wonderful, and I agree with jaimiengle..:D

    Like

  3. zkullis says :

    I love seeing how many directions the Damned take with these writings. You all are talented with your craft.

    Like

  4. moondustwriter says :

    I love flash fiction and seeing what is hanging in the back of everyone’s mind
    good stuff you damned writers

    Like

  5. Daemonwulf says :

    All of these pieces are quite interesting — not simply the differing take of each individual, but it seems to open strange little doorway into each person’s strange little mind.

    Personally, I found this one more difficult than the last, considering the image. Oh that D’arc-Sided Nina and her nefarious ways… *god(less)-warrior grin* But I really do appreciate trying to focus my thoughts (like a frikken lazer beam *Dr.-Evil voice*) into a mere 100 words. It’s like a mental straight-jacket. And I fight against it all the way there… *they’re-coming-to-take-me-away smile*

    Like

    • zkullis says :

      *they’re-coming-to-take-me-away smile* = flashbacks to listening to the Dr. Demento show.

      (adjusting the straight jacket)

      Like

    • Nina D'Arcangela says :

      The Doctor would be proud! (I greatly miss that broadcast, btw) The beauty of contorting your imagination to convey the proverbial ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ in only 100 forces us to sharpen our skill, refine our technique, and choose a single voice to stand in place of it all. Being a photographer, I see stories through the camera all the time, but to condense those universal scale ideas down to a microscopic level is challenging, and (for me at least) a pure delight. And Damned if Leslie isn’t right about peeking behind the curtain… 😉

      Like

  6. Thomas Brown says :

    I agree, Wulf, this image was more challenging! I fear for the next one! Always up for a challenge, of course, especially when it is a written one. Some very interesting pieces, I enjoyed Blaze’s spin on the troll under the bridge very much and found myself wanting to read what happened next.

    As always, a pleasure to read and a pleasure to write!

    Like

  7. blazemcrob says :

    Damned good stuff from Damned good authors! Way to go, fellow Damned! Thanks for the tip on the life insurance, Tyr!

    Blaze

    Like

  8. Tyr Kieran says :

    Thank you Damned for another fascinating and entertaining post! From victims to tolls to insect-children we glean different tales of torment from the same image and it is awesome to behold. As always, I am impressed at the talent in the group. Keep up the great work, my brethren!

    Like

Trackbacks / Pingbacks

  1. Damned Words 2 | The Endless Chase - June 4, 2013
  2. Damned Words | THOMAS BROWN - July 30, 2013

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