In the blush just before dawn, after a night of hunting those things that go bump, the memories taunt.
Her daughter, born in a witches hut. A child she never held nor suckled. A child taken from her before her womb completed its business.
All that she has to hold, is a silver thread wound tightly about a lock of hair.
She has known her daughter's daughter, and the daughters after.
Still, she'd trade the centuries for one touch of her newborn's hand.
I joined in the 100 Word Song, this week's track is "She Talks to Angels" by The Black Crowes. This is another little snippet of Anne Marie/Annag's story. There is more, I'm working on it...
I love where this is shaping up to go. The opening image is particularly strong.
ReplyDeleteCam, Thanks! I think I know where it's going. Sometimes it takes a side street on me, catches me off guard.
DeletePowerful stage, it creates images in my mind of that tiny hand.
ReplyDeleteThank you! I was hoping it would do that.
Deletevery ethereal. The first few lines just puts you into the imagery.
ReplyDeleteLeeroy loves this one.
Thanks, Lance! I've been really working on descriptives and the imagery.
DeleteTell Leeroy thanks as well ;-)
strong imagery. I'd like to know more
ReplyDeleteThank you Rene, I've written a lot, but it's scattered around a crazy time-line. Some of it is here http://elsetimeandotherwhen.blogspot.com/p/annag-of-clan-macclarrenanne-marie.html
DeleteVery powerful. Filled with strong descriptions and intense emotion.
ReplyDeletethank you much Tara. I'm glad you liked it, that means a lot.
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