of Stardust and the Beasts
Poetry, prose, stories, and other creative writing experiments.
Six Sentence Story #22 | Prompt Word: INTEREST
Yet again, a week has passed and it's time for a new six-sentence story. This week I wrote something a bit different from my usual entries, and it’s also the first week in a while that I have been able to rest. Yay. The blog hop itself is hosted by GirlieOnTheEdge. Be sure to check out the other entries at the link-up as well; there are some wonderful writers there. Six Sentence Story #22 Quen sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the pregnancy test in her trembling hands — for six years she had tried to conceive: hormonal treatments, a failed round of IVF, and two miscarriages. All those treatments and failures had eventually made her give up on the dream; honestly speaking, she didn't even know if being a mother was truly her dream at all, or if it was simply what she felt she had to...
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Ten Thing of Thankful #2 | Discovering Gratitude & Community
Another week has passed, and it’s time for my second entry in the Ten Thing of Thankful (TToT) blog hop. It has been an interesting and very tiring week, but now I’ll try to find ten things I was grateful for and also please do check out the others and the hosts at the InLinkz link-up. Ten Thing of Thankful #1 First – I have to say that I’m very lucky to have found this community… While life has been very hectic lately, the TToT blog hop alone made me grin big and gave me a little boost of serotonin, both through writing and reading. What a lovely way to end (or begin) a week on a Sunday. Second – Modern Talking. While I can’t say that I listen to them very often, yesterday morning I found...
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Poetry On the margins of the First Draft #2 | Flammable
This piece is part of Margins of the First Draft — a collection of poetry that was originally written in my teens, seems I was a very dramatic writer back then. (Authors Note Here) Flammable And I wish That my poetry was a flammable fluid With words spilling from my fingertips, The smell of petroleum, The light of a match Set his world on fire Poetry on the Margins #2 Afterglow I wonder, if words alone could ever set someone on fire. Think —someone pisses you off and all you say is one, simple, wordand they turn to ashes. Splendid... huh? Well, that maybe is not what I meant.Entirely. More so,I was hoping for a little sprinkle of magic this piece could evoke —perhaps, even gently, tug on...
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Short Story | Elves and Fantasy
He sat across from her on the train he took every day to work and back. Never had he seen her before, and there was nothing else that he could do than sit there, staring at her drawing while being perplexed by her beauty. He himself had never drawn before, or maybe he did when he was still in kindergarten and just forgot how much he enjoyed it.
Short Story | Melody Behind Her Voice
In this moment, he couldn’t understand how the melody in her voice could have disappeared. He sat on the edge of her bed and realized that time, it had been cruel to her. It seemed as if it were just yesterday that they walked hand in hand on the riverbank, her golden locks flying in the wind and the scent of strawberries lingering in the air around her. He had never known he liked strawberries until he met her.
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.