me: my writing is sometimes meh
my october story w prompts: *delivers at least one wow phrase each day*
me: O: wow

I'm going to share a few favs

There is a field where the grass should be. He is not certain of how long has it been —he knows better than to trust time as a measure, rather than a travel companion.

“Just a little tea party, Sakis, just play a little with me.”
It was never tea, they never opened that tea set.

Faust understood admiration, understood touch. But they had been his sibling and so, when the time came, only he left.
Whatever is left of Faust, he doesn’t find it in the third bottle.

Crack again.
Bad, bad omen, that is. He knows. The second time he hears these bones he immediately understands.
That was not the same sound.
There is a difference between the bones in one’s hands cracking, and the bones of one’s body breaking into a thousand splinters.

He is not there.
He is not even cut off, or crossed out.
He is simply not there.

He leaves the living room.

It is almost empty. In front of him, solitary on a plastic shelf, a carving knife lays waiting for him. He takes it. And as soon as he feels the cold handle between his fingers, a shadow moves out of the corner of his eye.
“Child, what are you doing here?”

“And what kind of place if it is not to be our home?”
“A rotten, hungry corpse.”

Just one more... ;)

When Mother leaves, there is no meat on the table.
When Mother leaves, he feels a heavy weight upon his heart, and his hands are drenched in the kind of blood one can never clean.

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