Shancia Speaks: Short Stories Superb!

The wind galloped ferociously through the trees and stomped on every branch, causing the leaves to plummet in surrender. Inside, the pots rattled, the wind chimes shook angrily and then the doors slammed shut. Just like her heart; wounded, closed and chained. Bounded! As the wind continued its howl, her nerves shivered and wailed silently, pumping excess blood to her already heavy heart and then just like that, her tears gushed down in giant clumps and pounded down upon the wooden floor. The tears bore stains that matched her pain. Totally wretched. Insane. He had promised to call her but it had been two weeks now and as the rain swept in , the realization settled, that she was indeed alone. Left, discarded, unwanted. Misused! This was the end. Termination! The pain she felt scratched at every inch of her skin and left deep open wounds in the grave of her soul. She's bleeding. Profusely too. As the rain continued to pound on her heart and permeate the raw fabrics of her mind, all h...

 The pen glided effortlessly over the paper that she was eventually going to fold, then send with mocking bird to deliver the jeer of the stab wounds that protruded from her heart, so he would know exactly how he made her feel. How can you go from loving someone to despising the very breath he takes? "That's not love", she thought. And so she wrote. "You were searching for purpose and focus and I became your canvas, yet the paint you splattered across my heart has left a stain that no amount of oil and brush can remove. You needed a beacon and a safety net and I illuminated your path and absorbed all your fears. You consumed me. The more you found yourself, the more I wandered and the deeper I was lost. I was your muse, the perfect joke. Just as a vulture, you tracked and lurked, you saw the vulnerability of me as prey and then you swooped down and clawed, latched, suckled, satisfied then you discarded." The pen stopped and she wondered if he was even worth thos...

 The rooster crows at five in the morning but she is up by quarter to. Praises to God first, of course, followed by the three minute rule to help her blood flow because today her arteries and veins will work overtime to make sure her revolving world does not crash on its axis. Deep breath in. Now exhale. Her feet now touch the floor, oiled and revving, bracing firmly as she pleads the Lord to go before her because she knows that the challenges loom, even lurk as they continually play hide and seek with her soul. No fun in this game for Hope. This woman called Hope starts off with the broom and cleanses her home, room by room, of the dirt and chaos of the day before. A fresh start, a new day. Clean. Sprays air freshener, serene. Hope then proceeds to the kitchen to start on breakfast for the ones she loves. Dishes are then washed, previous ones stowed away, stove top now shining, lunch bags packed, garbage put out. And go. Rev! Onward she trots , for the bathroom needs shining, the ...

 Joanna twirled in her long, shimmery, turquoise gown; absolutely thrilled by the prospect of finally revelling in the reality of her dreams. Joy had come and embraced her tightly and  Joanna was never going to unfold from this sweet, savoury embrace. The world belonged to her now and she finally understood what it was like to be free; to conquer, to thrive. The night was splendid too. Moonlight splattered daringly across her room, with its bright light trails boldy paving  a reassuring path of love and peace. Her soul surged with electricity and inspiration. Joanna found it impossible to contain the bubbles of excitement that oozed from her heart and popped out of her soul. She had not told anyone her news to date though she intensely craved to, simply because she knew that no one would really believe that divine intervention had swooped in to steal her fears and hide them away and instead replace them with a spirit of peace,  love and happiness. Tonight, she would ...