The writing agreement that inspired my last post has continued on, with today being the fourth 100 word story my new writing friend and I have shared with each other. We've expanded the definition of 100 words to be '100 words + the words from the chosen line', so it's now 100 words more or less.
This week's line was 'At dusk they pour from the sky'. Those words are the beginning of the novel 'All The Light We Cannot See', a beautifully rendered tale about the horrors and atrocities that occurred during World War II.
I wrote four different stories from this line. The one I shared with my writing friend was different from the words below. All of them were etched with darkness, perhaps the fact of the war seeped into my subconscious as I wrote. Perhaps it was the increasingly dark nights that accompany winter. Or perhaps it's just that I lean towards the darkness with much of my writing. Likely a combination of all three. Make of it what you will.
*~*
At dusk they pour from the sky. Cruel, cheerless drops that slice through skin and soul like
unwashed memories of black guilt. I push on. Trudging through the luckless mud, my brain
gone numb from bitter chill.
I’m thankful for it. The cold. I use it to pretend, I can forget the truth. Shuffling deeper into
gloom, I’m careful to keep my eyes cast down, attempting to dissuade the whispers from
ripping out my heart.
Futile.
For I see them always, the nightmares. Those broken stars, their cleaved screams,
never cease. Nights of blood are my destiny. Dawn will come, with it death.
I shall never escape.
~*~*~
....I'll post something cheerier next time...
