(no subject)
I was cleaning my room and found this years old notebook I used to scribble in. Something I was working on was stories with less than 100, and finally less than 50, words. I'm not sure how much I like them, but I'll share them
The massive weight of the steel rests against his neck. Burning, wet, almost still-flowing, the blood spilt just moments before stains the knight's white surcoat and dripds from the broadsword's point. The glass beads lay scattered at his knees, endlessly reflecting back the shine of his plates. Held tight in his carded hands, a cross of silver. Throught one of the clear orbs he can see her. the swarthy-skinned hethen...no, the scared child... "God forgive me..." he prays before his headless body falls onto the slain father. (93 words)
"I love you!" he shouts over the crowd. "I love you, I really do..." He takes her hands in his, eyes screaming truth.
He sits alone, voice scratchy and eyes clenched shut. (32)
Cold, stern, hardened. Giant statues of leaders past become dotted with age. Crumbles of their glory as chips of stone fall forgotten. Heavy crowns on creased, chisled brows. Scepters, swords, maces, throwns. Glory worn by rain, wing and scared by blackening flames. Pride forgotten down the tree-devoured roads. (50)
God, I was angsty
(4)