of Stardust and the Beasts
Poetry, prose, stories, and other creative writing experiments.
Six Sentence Story #18 | Prompt Word: HELP
Yet another week has passed, and it’s time to share another six-sentence story. However, this week’s prompt word made me derail into a psychologically dark theme. So, a small disclaimer before I let you read: if you are someone who may be triggered by domestic abuse and CPTSD, it might be best to skip this week. For others, dread… tread on—with one eye closed. Musically, nothing much has changed. I did listen to a lot of Type O Negative this week, which is one of those bands I used to listen to in my teens—Life Is Killing Me specifically is the album I was stuck on. The weekly writing challenge is hosted by GirlieOnTheEdge, and you can find links to other participants’ work through the link-up . Please do check out the others too, there are a lot of great writers on…
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Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #5 | Insanity
This piece of poetry from Margins of the First Draft is one of those poems that makes me feel as if I can’t write anymore, as if I’ve lost some childish part of myself that once had a vivid imagination. I feel like life has dulled me and my writing has become boring. (Authors Note ) Insanity So, can you see now That I have lost my mind The sea of emotion has swallowed me whole And oh sweet mother of mine Can you tell Your daughter doesn’t want to emerge Poetry on the Margins #5 Love of the Mother Dear mom,I know that you wanted to save me and hold me in the pouts of my deepest depression.Yet, I have been lucky enough to have felt life to the extentthat on some daysall I wanted to do was to…
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Short Story | Pianoforte
With her fingers lightly gripping the quill, the black ink smeared on her fingers and across the paper, if I may paint her clumsiness and lack of etiquette, she tried to write him another letter. But what was there for her to write about? After all, they had never met. She had seen him once from the crowd as she watched his fingers dance across the keys of a pianoforte while clutching her mother’s hand to calm her nerves.
Six Sentence Story #10 | Prompt Word: BOOKMARK
The smell of cinnamon in the room, a burnt candle on the bedside table, an empty bottle of Shiraz on the floor beside the ivory bed, and finally… a lady clutching onto a tattered book while tangled in her silken sheets with a tear running down her cheek.
Six Sentence Story #9 | Prompt Word: COFFEE
I prayed that the wooden floorboards wouldn’t creak under my weight as I got out of the bed, because God knows that hell had no fury like her majesty awoken suddenly from her slumber.
Six Sentence Story #8 | Prompt Word: EXCHANGE
She could feel that something was wrong with the way the wind made her skin crawl as she teetered out from the bar onto the small alleyway leading to her home and she felt almost as if there, in the dark, were a pair of eyes watching her every move.
Short Story | Master of Escapism
I used to believe in something, like stars being the souls of the lost—my father being one of them. I also used to read fairy tales over and over again. I believed that I would spend an eternity loving the same boy I fell for when I was nothing but a child. I had my whole life written in fantasy and laid out in front of me. On some days, I fought dragons; on other days, I cradled the scorching sun in my arms and called it a lover.