They call me ugly because I am different. They call me dangerous because I am wise.
You begged me for fire. How could I refuse, you with your mother’s blessing and a woman’s smile? I gave what I could.
I would have loved you, my beauty, had you stayed.
Each night, deep in the mountains, a Dragon counted his treasure; each morning he wanted more.
One evening he flew over a lake. Looking down, he spotted diamonds, but his greedy talons caught only water.
An Owl watched him all night, swooping and diving among the stars. “How beautiful,” she thought.
Not all treasures can be held in the hands.
This week we were asked to write an original fable in exactly 51 words, excluding the moral at the end. Check out the rest of the stories on the YeahWrite microprose grid!
Her kisses are light: all heat and smoke. She trails them like promises across my skin, each one an ember that quickly turns to ash. She is a candle, a hearth fire, a beacon; I am the one who burns.
I want to wake up with your handprint on my hip and your perfume in my hair. I want to be haunted by your touch. Every breath of wind could be an unexpected caress: phantom kisses against my skin.
Sometimes, we forget our words. Sometimes, we don’t remember how to mourn. Silence stands between us, a leviathan of unspoken grief. We linger in its shadow, waiting for the delicate whisper of rain.