Hidden

I know a man who owns a mask.masks

It’s made of steel and covers his face.

He wears it often;

To hide his smile,

And his eyes.

But sometimes the mask is down;

When he is unawares.

But in those times

I see beneath.

I see flesh.

I see a smile,

And his eyes.

Do I like what I see?

Sometimes.

Only…

Once…

Just once…

The flesh slipped.

And I realised;

The flesh was not flesh,

But another mask.

Underneath there was another layer.

It was made of lead;

The fatal kind.

So,

Do I like what I see?

I don’t know.

In all these years,

I have never seen his face.

***

For Trifecta. The word this week is MASK.

At the ‘Bwahhahhahhahha!!’ Mansion

church_and_tree-claire-fuller

Copyright -Claire Fuller

‘What! They left already?’

‘Yup.’

‘What happened? Was it Peter with his drop-the-ball-down-the-stairs trick?’

‘No, it was Rose.’

‘Rose!’

‘You know how she gets when Carter floats to the attic to chat up the new ghost…’

‘And Rose got jealous?’

‘Yes. Freaked out.  All the lights went berserk.  The mortals thought that it was cos the house was old, but then Carter started dancing with the new girl.’

‘And Rose saw?’

‘Yes. She went mental.  Crockery started smashing against the walls. Then she started wailing … The whole family was out of the door before Carter gave the new girl a second twirl.’

When I first saw the picture posted by Rochelle for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, I was rushing out of work with my glasses already packed safely in my handbag.  I got a whole story going – title and all – by the time I got home.  Only now that I downloaded the picture have I realised that it is in fact a church. But the story was done by then and it refused to leave.  So there you have it and I hope you enjoy it.

Mauve Martins’ Secret

When Mauve tattooed the letter ‘M’ on her upper left arm, everyone simply assumed that she had tattooed the first letter of her name.

It was a nice tattoo.  Three inches wide and four inches long, the thin black outline of the ‘M’ was entwined with ivy spiralling up and down its edges.  It was a piece of art, no one denied that.

But when a second ‘M’ popped up right below the first one, some eyebrows were raised, some heads got cocked to the side.

‘Your initials, right? Mauve…it’s Martins, isn’t it?’ Mauve nodded and smiled thinly the first time someone asked that.  Then she just nodded.

The second ‘M’ had daisies sprouting out of the two parallel lines on the side.  The outline was black again, but the daisies were white with a yellow centre.  All in all, it complemented the green ivy quite well.

The scabs on the daisies hadn’t completely healed when a third ‘M’ materialised half way down Mauve’s left arm etched in front of a large pink lily.

Three ‘M’s.  Eyebrows were drawn in quizzical expressions.  Mauve just shrugged.

*

In the flat she shares with no-one, Mauve washes blood off her hands in the kitchen sink, brushing away at her fingernails using the steel, wiry sponge she usually uses to scrub pots with.

She wipes her hands on the dish towel and sits at the kitchen table where a High School yearbook is open.   A red cross quarters each of three different faces; Ivy Reynolds, Daisy Stevens, Lily O’Keefe.

Mauve grabs the red pen buried in the middle of the open book.  A smile snails its way up each cheek as another face is crossed; stroke, stroke.  Samara Lawrence.

Mauve reaches for a blank paper, sketches the four-by-three inch ‘M’ – her own chosen brand for ‘Murderer’ – and then pauses.  The pen hovers motionless for some long seconds until Mauve’s head shoots up, panic clouding her expression.

‘Samara…Samara…Samara…how the hell am I gonna pull this one off?’

 —

For Trifecta.  The word is BRAND.

This comes after a week-long  break from blogging…  *snigger-snigger* I was on holiday and ooohh have I enjoyed it!  ^__^

I missed writing though, so I’m glad I’m back with you all.

A Little Tooth Fairy Magic

When Mary visited the new dentist, his eyes twinkled at her before setting to work.  One by one every tooth needed mending giving Mary precisely enough visits to turn into Mrs Dentist.

 

Here is my offering for Trifextra this week with the word TOOTH.  

Last week I didn’t manage to submit my story for WEAK on time, but since I wrote it I thought I should post it anyway.  If you’re interested read on 🙂

The Strike

Kyle’s assurances sounded weak, hollow, even to him.  He was standing on the upturned casket that served as a low podium, barely a foot above the other heads.  But he was high enough to observe their changing expressions.

He remembered a time, not so long ago, when his words ignited fire. Men jumped at his command; much like that game his children used to play before the curfew set in.

Now, all his words did was aggravate the Union men.

“You said it would only last a few days.”  Murmurs of dissent echoed off the edges of the filthy crowd.

The strike had already been going on for three weeks and these men had children of their own to feed.

It wasn’t Kyle’s fault though.  Back in the old days, back when the bosses were human, strikes had had an effect; workers had had a say.  Kyle could never have predicted that the Authority would send the Bots in; that the workers who didn’t punch in would be picked off one by one and terminated. A human mind can never predict that.

“As long as we keep our heads together; keep a civil tongue in our mouths, they’ll take us back.”  That’s all he had to hope for now; forget the inhuman hours; forget the subhuman conditions that had sparked their protest. Their rivals weren’t human.  The rules of engagement were unknown.  The odds were insurmountable.

Mind’s Eye

 

copyright-renee-heath

Copyright -Renee Heath

A girl was dancing in the street, her braided hair spinning at the exact same angle as her skirt.  Her figure shone bright with each revolution that brought her out of shadow  and into the pouring sunrays caressing the asphalt.

A man leaned against Bidwell’s doorframe, looking on but not seeing the girl.  His eyes were glazed over like he was recalling something distant.

The images are seared inside my mind still. Only the useless details though.  Years of therapy have yet to bring back the face of the man who left the bag against the hydrant, right before it all went black.

For Friday Fictioneers. I added my dark tale to the many dark inspirations that this week’s picture has instilled in the brilliant minds of the Fictioneers.

Beesity

Copyright – Jennifer Pendergast

‘It’s the Beesity epidemic?’

‘The what?’

‘You know… what they were saying on the news the other day…the obesity epidemic that’s hit the bees!’

‘Oh! … What the hell is that?’

‘It doesn’t matter, just stay away from the damn things.  Charlie from work said that his mother’s cousin’s daughter was stung by one and it split her in half.’

‘Oh!’

‘If it comes anywhere near you just don’t move and stay calm.’

‘Oh! … OH! … Brady…?’

‘Yes, sweetie?’

‘Don’t panic…’

‘Why should I panic, sweetie?’

‘Do. Not. Move.’

‘Shit! Sweetie? … Sweetie? Where are you going? Sweetie!’

For Friday Fictioneers.  Not particularly proud of my attempt this week, but it is what it is.  Hope you like it better than I do!

Changing Shapes

clouds

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

Lying down hand in hand with a boy with no other intention except to gaze up at the passing shapes above, we used to hypothesise and ponder; were they strong enough to walk on?

A few years passed and I was up among them, looking at them.  I saw cotton valleys and mountains; a whole magical world made of white and I wondered; was there anything more beautiful?

Now, glancing up I see rain coming and when up among them, looking through them, all I see is my tomb thirty-five thousand feet below; is there a death more horrible?

 —

For Friday Fictioneers. No dark fiction from me this week; just stark, cold reality. Hope you like it anyway.

My Damsel

I dragged her screaming.  But she never prayed for rescue, nor shed a tear. She glared at me; eyes burning in anger not fear.  Therein lay her charm.  She conquered me.  I’m hers.

Dragon and Damsel _2

Copyright: Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon by Scott Appleton)

I gave you 33 words for this Monday’s Trifecta Challenge which is: CHARM (verb) 3: to control (an animal) typically by charms

Though technically I didn’t…I had this done for a Trifextra Challenge a couple of weeks back; the one that had no subject and just said, ‘Give us your best 33 words.’  Do you remember that one?  Well I had prepared what by no means did I think were my best 33 words (by the way, thanks for not piling on the pressure on that one, Trifecta!) but they were the best I could do at the time.  Then, when I pressed ‘Publish’ nothing happened.  I tried and tried.  In the end, my tiny story remained in the draft section till today and until I read Draug’s post – which is brilliant and also about dragons – and it was than that I remembered that I have a dragon of my own waiting his turn for a spot on the web.

So there you have it; a back story which is longer than the actual story and a tired writer hoping you’ll like her work.

Good night, you all!