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Stories (410/0)
Snow Angel. Content Warning.
Snow falls gently, uncaring, on the small, stiff body. Pretty flakes dot her whiskers. The breeze stirs her tortoiseshell fur. Blood has dripped from her injured mouth to decorate her white chest. Her eyes, half shut, are filling up gently. Her claws are broken; they found no purchase on the tarmac when the van caught her.
By L.C. Schäfer5 months ago in Fiction
Blood on Snow. Runner-Up in Snow Micro Challenge.
Freezing snow on furry snowshoe paws. Later, she will gnaw the icy crystals away that get stuck between the pads, and lick warmth and comfort into them. She will turn on her side and let the last little life suckle. But for now, her mind is a blood-red bullet, aimed only at one thing.
By L.C. Schäfer6 months ago in Fiction
The Siren's Call
How could I tell Ryan that I'd signed away our unborn child to a merman? They couldn't just kidnap my baby, though, could they? It was months 'til he'd even be born. That's forever. Head deep in the sand, when calls came from Merman & Merman, I ignored them.
By L.C. Schäfer6 months ago in Fiction
Musings on the Misplaced Challenge
With the Misplaced challenge closed, here are my thoughts, my collated entries, and my recommended reads. My thoughts I thought this one was a lot of fun. I wrote four new entries for this challenge, and entered an oldie from last year that I thought fit the brief as well. Getting inside the head of a lost object was an easy one, which either means I nailed it, or I did it very, very badly. I liked that there were lots of ways to interpret the prompt. I hope Vocal give us more prompts like this one.
By L.C. Schäfer6 months ago in Writers
The Woman in the Window
December 1926, Harrogate The woman gazes out of the window at the chilly, beautiful town bustling away below, her face as blank as a page. Unaware of the frantic search for her that is taking place at this very moment, she can't hear the dogs barking and snuffling, looking for her trail.
By L.C. Schäfer6 months ago in Fiction
Deliver Us From Evil
He wrote me in the mud and gloom, fire and death rattling all around. A picture of her taken from an inner pocket peaked from under his thumb. Gazing at it, he laboriously scratched out his heartfelt words. Poured them in love and ink across my pages.
By L.C. Schäfer6 months ago in Fiction
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