Five Sentence Fiction: Hunger

Rain © Lisa Shambrook

Rain © Lisa Shambrook

The rain fell, heavy and abrupt, and before Lily had a chance to move she was soaked, the sky’s tears drenching her t-shirt and darkening her mud-splattered jeans. Shaking, dirt-ridden hands hung at her sides and she stared up into the roiling clouds as the heavens wept with her.

Lily bit her lip as her fingers trembled through her straggly tresses then she flung out her arms in defiance as she twirled; starved vengeance served as she whirled. Her hair spun out in heavy, water-laden rat-tails as she ravenously kicked up earth, and the rain danced on her skin and drummed upon the fresh mound under her feet.

Her laugh echoed as she buried far more than a corpse beneath the hammering of dawn’s heavy downpour.

000. FSF Badge  June 2012

Another Five Sentence Fiction for the word prompt Hunger…make of it what you will in its ambiguity!

Flash! Friday: Retribution

Typhoon Maid Thursday. CC photo by Shuji Moriwaki.

Typhoon Maid Thursday. CC photo by Shuji Moriwaki.

The reckoning was always a powerful storm.

He heard her footsteps and the vein in the side of his temple throbbed, pulsating like a cloud waiting to pound an unsuspecting sea.

His arms shook, his silver hair shimmered in the harsh fluorescent light, and his trembling fingers crept across his face. He shivered as if a thousand centipedes wandered across his skin. Interlaced fingers arched over his head, like an umbrella, but his thin arms offered no protection from the onslaught of emotion.

His monsoon pummelled, and amid the deluge she approached.

She wore the gas mask this time, but he knew what lay behind it, what he’d left, the empty husk, the lost child. She carried the rope, swinging gently at her hip, and he knew one day her ligature marks would be his.

Tears fell, but no redemption, and it was her striped socks that drowned his mind.

The reckoning was always a powerful storm.

(157 Words)

0. Flash! Friday

Another Flash! Friday…go take a look at the plethora of wonderful fiction!

Amaranth Alchemy: breathing new life into old pages…

When you grow up losing yourself in books you can’t help but have an affinity to the written word that will last a life time.  Amaranth Alchemy’s brand of creativity involves rescuing old, unwanted and damaged books breathing new life into their pages.

Amaranth Alchemy products...

Amaranth Alchemy products…

My daughter, Bekah, and I recently embarked on a new adventure and created Amaranth Alchemy and we’d love to introduce you to our work!

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Winnie the Pooh necklace, Dream necklace and Alice bookmark…

Both of us spent our childhoods engrossed within the adventures laid down on pages; words that took us away and threw us into other worlds, other lives and allowed us to escape and experience so much more than our own small worlds could let us! I was the proverbial bookworm, never happier than when I was curled up with a good book. I loved searching my local independent bookstore for second hand books I could spend my pocket money on. The shop owner helpfully rescued tattered copies of The Famous Five and each of The Silver Brumby books so I could immerse myself amongst my favourite things!

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The Lord of the Rings products…

My book collection grew and I was always saddened when my beloved books began to fall apart, spine glue disintegrating, pages slipping out, accidents, a book left out in the rain, pages torn, and general wearing out. I kept a lot of my books, reluctant to release them, and unable to throw them away, despite having bought a better condition copy! Over the years my old books vanished to charity, or final acceptance of the dreaded bin, sacrilegious!

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This is the average state of the books we use before rescue…

These days charity shops are overrun with books, too many to sell or recycle and many are pulped. Those that don’t make charity are often thrown away to rot in landfill.

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Marvels of Nature, Oliver Twist and Dracula bookmarks, and Winnie the Pooh wall art…

Bekah and I decided to do something about these lost and abandoned books and created a rescue service!

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Alice wall art, The Story of English Literature bookmark, Birdcage quote plaque and Winnie the Pooh necklace… (clockwise)

Our choice of name epitomises our ethic…unfading creation
Amaranth: a purple flower whose name derives from the Greek ἀμάραντος (amarantos) which means ‘unfading’ and is what books are, unfading stories, and Alchemy: a magical process of creation, turning old books into new.

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Dictionary word necklaces…

The vintage book pages we use in our craft are currently sourced from the Healthy Planet (a charity that gives away donated books preventing them going to landfill or being pulped) or from books lost within the dusty back rooms of charity shops or donated to us. Each item we make breathes new life into old pages.

We promise never to take pages from new books unless they are irrevocably damaged!

GIVEWAY: you can own Mrs Tiggy Winkle! Go to our FB page to take part!

GIVEWAY: you can own Mrs Tiggy Winkle! Go to our FB page to take part!

You can have a chance to win the necklace above! It’s our very first giveaway and all you need to do is pop over to Facebook and ‘like’ our page Amaranth Alchemy, like and comment on the Giveaway photo…very easy and Mrs Tiggy Winkle is waiting for a lovely new home…could it be yours? 

FBWELCOME15 etsy Voucher

15% Etsy voucher…

Even if you don’t win…you can have 15% off in our Etsy shop until the 15th October 2014...use the code above when you go through to pay for your purchases. Go and take a look and end up with a beautiful package delivered to your door!

Amaranth Alchemy's first packages all packed up pretty before posting...

Amaranth Alchemy’s first packages all packed up pretty before posting…

Amaranth Alchemy is a mother and daughter team who adore words and art of every kind.

Lisa is an author, photographer and an all-round artsy dreamer. Her first novel ‘Beneath the Rainbow’ is available to critical acclaim. When she’s not writing her second and third novels she can be found tinkering with other arty projects.

Bekah is an artist and designer by trade, spending time as a Make-Up Artist out on photo shoots, and designing websites, logos and all manner of arty things. She can be discovered at Masterpiece Artistry.

Lisa and Bekah have an eye for all things of natural beauty and a talent for putting creative arts together.  

Five Sentence Fiction: Grief

© Lisa Shambrook

© Lisa Shambrook

“Pillarbox red…you know, red like that sexy scarlet lipstick I could never quite pull off…” Aggie’s laugh tinkled in the crisp morning air and she squeezed Harold’s arm. “Orange, well that speaks for itself, then there’s yellow, the kind that we all wore in the sixties or that they make those rubber ducks out of. Green…” she sighed, “the kind of green that spreads across the English countryside…fields and trees and hedges, that kind of green. Summer sky blue, and indigo, like a summer storm, a storm bearing down, broiling and threatening…and violet,” Aggie’s voice broke,  just for a moment, “like the stone in my ring, amethyst, like my engagement ring…that’s what it looks like…remember?”

Harold’s foggy eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled and clasped Aggie’s hands tight within his own; he couldn’t see the tears, that rested like dewdrops on her wrinkled cheeks, any more than he could see the rainbow arcing across the sky, but he didn’t need his sight as long as he still had her.

000. FSF Badge  June 2012

My Five Sentence Fiction for the prompt word ‘grief’ over at Lillie McFerrin’s.

Blues Buster: Long Snake Moan

© Lisa Shambrook

© Lisa Shambrook

Harry’s head swayed and the vein in his temple throbbed as the beat from the party, back on the dunes, thudded through his brain. The moon’s silvered rays cast a diamond pathway before him as he closed his eyes and waded into the deep. Sand caressed his toes and pieces of drifting seaweed curled around his legs. Harry’s heart beat like a jackhammer as he walked, pushing through the sea, allowing the comforting warmth to exorcise his demons. He glanced behind. The beach was almost silent, the only sound the lapping of waves about his belly, rising up to his chest and down again, the thud of the party left far behind, as was his spiteful battle with Angelique.

A sigh escaped his lips and he bent his knees; the water closed over his shoulders and then over his head and he rose, shaking salt and ocean from his hair. He gazed up at the moon and drank in its cool calm, almost regretting the words he and Angelique had shared. He lifted his feet from the ocean floor and relaxed backwards, letting the swell pick him up and cradle him like a baby.

He played the fight over in his head as he floated, and the motion of the waves hypnotised him, drowning his aggression and burying it deep below. Angelique’s voice floated through the dark, its vicious edge lost in the calm of the night, and Harry grinned.

Angelique’s murmur captivated him as he bobbed on the ocean, and his hands moved rhythmically through the water as he turned to face the shore, and his girlfriend. Forgiveness sang in his heart and he lowered his legs to stand. Panic struck, just for a moment, as he realised how far out he’d floated, and then Angelique’s arms embraced him from behind and he let her move him through the water. Her sultry words echoed and her kisses rained down on his lips, then his shoulder, and then on his chest and her hands caressed his body beneath the sea. His heart quickened and blood rushed as her lips tasted his.

He floundered again as his feet searched for the sandy floor, but her legs entwined his and her insistent kisses pushed deeper. He tried to relax and enjoy the seduction, but the night grew darker, as the moon fled behind clouds, and the ocean grew colder. Harry tried to extricate himself from her embrace, but her arms were everywhere and her song weaved through his brain. He kicked and pushed, and gulped as his head dipped below the water. He spluttered and coughed and fought for the surface…swallowing sea as he burst through the watery ceiling.

Free from her grip, he kicked away and turned to find his bearings. His head spun as he tried to locate the shore. The moon peeped out, but offered no help and Angelique’s body slithered towards him through the silver sea. He tried to swim, but she was upon him and dunking him back beneath the ocean before he could escape. Her arms entwined him in chains of steel and her breath whispered across his skin and he sank as her kisses feathered his lips.

No one but the moon saw the futile struggle amid the ocean waves, and no one but the moon saw the crude voodoo figure rudely and hurriedly constructed from driftwood and fishing line, half buried in the sand at Angelique’s feet. The wind whispered through Angelique’s dry hair, and she smiled to herself as she settled into the eager arms of another partygoer, and as the beat thudded behind her she rained kisses down on her new beau’s lips.

(612 Words)

Another Blues Buster prompted by P J Harvey’s ‘Long Snake Moan’. Hop over to The Tsuruoka Files to read more tales…

Flash! Friday: The Ending

1896 Olympic marathon. Public domain photo by Burton Holmes.

1896 Olympic marathon. Public domain photo by Burton Holmes.

Mama told me to come away, to come back inside, but I couldn’t.

The first ones ran.

I stared, from my perch on the broken fence, as they hurried past, their concentration on the dusty road and their footfalls, not on me, a grubby child by the wayside. They ran so fast even my blistered legs curved below my torn skirts failed to move them. I winced as I changed position.

There were more, still running, always running, kicking up dirt and ash in clouds behind them as they hastened on. Then they slowed and I stared. Sunken cheeks, dull eyes, scorched rags, and blistered skin…like mine.

He was one of the last, walking, dragging, mumbling and stinking of anguished sweat. I backed away as he reached my fence, and I stared with mistrust in my eyes and escape in my legs.

“War is over,” he slurred. “War is over, my child…”

Tears streamed as my eyes met his. “Papa?”

(160 Words)

0. Flash! FridayFlash! Friday…150 give or take 10 words on the prompt photo above including the word War…some of these are brilliant!

Visual Dare: Precocious Spirit

Mists swirled and danced, and Qilaq kept moving despite the sugared ice flurries that numbed her nose. The road was long and she tightened her fingers around the wagon’s rope. Her arms burned, but her snowy white llama sat as still as could be. She moved steadfastly on, followed, as always, by her faithful animals.

A hawk swept by, disturbing the roiling mists, crying as it circled, “Keee-arr, keee-arr…follow, follow…”

Qilaq glanced up and grinned.

A tear slipped down her cheek, turning crystalline, and for a moment she paused. Her heart ached – especially where the bear’s claws had torn through so many layers – and sorrow filled her, but her journey was almost finished. The next life was within sight and as her spirit-guide, her beloved hawk, soared through the narrow mountain pass, Qilaq quickened her pace, heading for the light that beckoned her. Heading for Spring as her Winter passed.

(150 words)

00. VisDare Badge

 

I loved this picture as soon as I saw it and wanted to write…take a look at the other few tales over at Anonymous Legacy and Visual Dare.

Blues Buster: This Bed is Getting Crowded

© Lisa Shambrook

© Lisa Shambrook

“Put your phone away, baby…” his voice lingered, as did his fingers trailing across the small of her back. She wriggled, leaning on her elbow, fingernails tapping rhythmically on the screen.

He gazed at the smooth incline of her neck, lit by the stark blue glow of her mobile phone. His eyes followed her shoulder, down the curve of her back, tapering beneath the sheets shrouding the swell of her hip. Her bare skin enticed him and he raised his hand, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he stroked his fingers down towards her waist. She wriggled again, allowing a giggle to slip out of her mouth, as he descended, his hand running further beneath the sheet.

He felt her muscles tense as she drew her legs up and away, revoking consent, and despite heat rising as his fingers touched soft lace, he withdrew his touch.

His face burned and hurt simmered as he adjusted himself and slid his hands behind his head. He stared and the blue light of betrayal danced on the ceiling.

He tilted his head and glared at her silhouette. She pushed a lock of hair away from her face, and it shone like a halo before it settled across the pillow beside him. His eyes roamed taking in the nape of her neck and her spine, which moved gently as her fingers spoke on the device cradled out of sight. He swallowed hard, as he imagined kissing the dimples on her lower back, and fought the urge to reach out once more.

The impulse vanished as her tinkling laugh echoed softly and her reply tangoed across her phone’s screen. “So funny…” she murmured, and he felt his eyes sting.

“C’mon, honey, it’s late…” he tried to sound nonchalant.

“In a moment…I won’t be long…”

“That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.” He regretted his gruff tone as soon as he’d spoken.

“Okay,” irritation tinged her voice, “we’ll just be a minute…”

He couldn’t stifle the sigh that whispered like the autumn wind through the chill of the bedroom.

“Got – to – go…” she mumbled, fingers sweeping deftly across the screen.

The room plunged into darkness and the phone was asleep.  The bed complained as she turned and relaxed, and as his eyes got used to the gloom he gazed at her prone form. She lay on her back, her belly flat and…she turned towards him, her hair flopping across her face. She brushed it away and shuffled closer. She nuzzled into his chest, resting her shoulder in his armpit and kissed his neck. When he didn’t respond, she lifted onto her elbow and kissed his cheek. Her fragrance felled him, infusing his brain with desire. She leaned across, brushing her body against his, and tears filled his eyes. Her leg moved over his thigh and her kisses rained down. He whispered, softly, inaudibly.

“Sorry, honey?” she asked, lifting her head away from his chest.

“This ain’t love…” he whispered again.

She paused for a moment then moved her fingers down his chest, circling and smoothing, sweeping across his taut skin. As she got lower he moaned, fire igniting, and she laughed a soft, tinkling laugh. He pushed her away. “Am I me, or him?” he asked huskily. “Who are you with, babe?”

Her hesitation, the slightest of pauses, before she hungrily lowered her head to kiss him was enough.   

He slid out of bed grabbing his jeans. He pulled them on and snatched his leather jacket. She watched as he strode across the room and picked up her phone. “See if that keeps you satisfied tonight…” he taunted as he tossed it to her.

Minutes later a rumble echoed as he straddled his bike and sped off into the lonely night.

 

(627 Words)

We’re back with the Mid-Week Blues-Buster over at The Tsuruoka Files…and the music prompt is Alejandro Escovedo’s ‘This Bed is getting Crowded’…take a listen. Then go and read all the stories! 

Creative Feature: Troodlecraft

I’ve enjoyed bringing some great talent to my blog in the form of Creative Features for eight weeks, and this will be my last for a while. Though keep an eye out – when I see something special, I’ll let you know! And – I hope to be making a creative announcement of my own pretty soon! Until then I’m leaving you with cute and traditional in the capable hands of Troodlecraft.

I’ve known Trudi for a while and interviewed her daughter at Flourish Buttons just a few weeks ago, so this is another family with creativity running through its veins! I remember, when I was small, getting a clothes peg doll kit in my Christmas stocking, so Trudi’s little dolls brought back memories of something I did once myself. Her dolls are cute and cheerful and a delightfully simple idea for gifts. Take a trip back down memory lane…

Trudi Cotton - Troodlecraft

Trudi Cotton – Troodlecraft

Trudi Cotton – Creative and Doll Maker

What inspires you?

I think it is very difficult to pin point exactly what inspires me. There are so many things that I see daily that give me inspiration, whether it be a piece of art, a positive quote, or whether I hear about someone who has done something remarkable with their life.
I can remember some particular incidences over the last year or so, when I have been inspired by a particular event or a person, which has perhaps just been a fleeting moment in my life, but even so, has had a huge impact on the way I think about myself and my abilities. These incidences have inspired me to be more creative or inspired me to be more courageous, to try out new things, be more adventurous and childlike…and, I know that without these special moments, I would not have had the courage to start Troodlecraft, or to keep going when I had feelings of self doubt and low self esteem.

What inspired you to make clothes pin dolls?

When I was a little girl, and attended what they used to call Junior School, which is now called Primary School, the teacher gave us some pegs and showed us how to make ‘peg dolls’. A few years back, I remembered how much fun it was making peg dolls and decided that I would like to have another go. At that time I had no intention of starting a business, I was just purely looking for a creative experience.When I went onto the internet and typed in peg dolls, I found the clothespin dolls with lovely big heads, and I loved them.

 

I see you make both clothes pin and cotton reel dolls, which do you prefer to make, and do you create any other kinds of art?

I love making both of them…they are so different, but If I had to choose I would say the clothespin dolls. With the clothespin dolls you can give them flowers to hold or a baby to cradle, whereas the cotton reel dolls are a bit restricted by their cotton reel hands!! (Awww poor things!!) So, I have a lot of fun with the clothespin dolls!!! In fact that is what made me think about putting together clothespin doll kits, so that other people could have fun with them as well!! I also make bendy doll fridge magnets, wooden signs and, at Christmas I make nativity peg people, mini wreaths and Queen’s Guard peg dolls!

 

Do you have a favourite doll design?

No, not really!! Although, I do like the brightly coloured flowery material I sometimes use because it makes me feel light and summery, but apart from that I like them all! I find that each doll’s design is different, and I love that!

 

What are your future plans with your dolls?

Recently I made some clothespin dolls for people celebrating a special occassion, a bride and groom for a wedding, a doll for a university graduation, and someone asked me to make a gardener as a birthday present for their mum. I think it would be fun to do some more of these and perhaps expand that idea a bit more, and make some dolls associated with other hobbies like reading, computers and cooking.

Lastly, if you could commission anything for yourself, money no object, what would it be?

I love fairies, fairy houses and gardens…so a fairy garden would be wonderful. Little fairy houses and miniature fairy gardens. My husband is always saying ‘I’m off with the fairies’, so no surprises there I suppose!! Or, I did have an amazing dream once that I was travelling through Toy Town…you know, where Noddy and Big Ears might live…and I was there to look for a house to buy. I woke up feeling really happy! So maybe, I could build my own Toy Town.

You can purchase your very own dolls at Troodlecraft, and like Trudi’s Facebook Page. You can follow her on Twitter @troddlecraft, find out the latest at her blog and find her on Pinterest too.

BlueBell - Clothespin Doll - Troodlecraft

BlueBell – Clothespin Doll – Troodlecraft

Troodlecraft’s Bio

Troodlecraft is a small craft business in the town of Cinderford in the lovely Forest of Dean! All the Clothespin dolls and Cotton Reel dolls are handmade and painted, with wooden parts such as pegs and cotton reels. And for those of you who would like to have a go at making your own Clothespin doll, then please take a look in the Troodlecraft shop where I am selling Clothespin doll kits . All the dolls are sent to their new homes with a handwritten name tag and a description of their character.

 

Five Sentence Fiction: Conflict

Conflict © Lisa Shambrook

Conflict © Lisa Shambrook

It’s the weight, heavy and constant, which tightens my determination.

Gunfire rattles across the barbed wire and I run, my legs aching and my shoulders on fire. Nerves tingle as the metal within my grip bites into my fingers welding the weapon to my hands. Cold sweat forms, dripping from my brow, and I shift my hefty backpack, but the weight sits firm.

Guilt and desire battle in equal measure and my heart resounds and ricochets like a cannon locked within my ribcage, as I lift my gun…and kill.

 

000. NewFSFBadge Bekahcat June 2012

This week’s prompt over at Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction is conflict…go and read the other tales!