Yesterday, as the #Easter Bunny retired for another year, I placed my last period in #EyesOnWillow.
I've been #writing short stories since I was 8, and have written many, but as I tried my hand on a #novel, I did so as a backdrop to a busy career and a family. For 5 years I have struggled to fit writing into my life, but yesterday I finally achieved my goal. Novel #1 is complete, and call me a sinner for the internal pride is blooming.
It had become a habit that the onset of a headache led the woman to seek out her usual medicine down on Baker Street where the police rarely patrolled, even though they were well versed on what went on down there. At the moment, she wasn’t thinking about her street pharmacist down on Baker, something her therapist would have called a “good first #step.”
Alcohol had dehydrated his #personality, assuming of course he ever really had one. Since the moment he promised a state of sobriety to save his family, however, Frederick Reynolds stitched a permanent grin on his face. Whether the situation suited it or not, Fred peeled that exaggerated smile across his cheeks like the robot he’d become. Though Willow didn’t prefer her father’s harsh words and stern fist, at least in those times her father was honest and true.
His skin glistened against the moon’s gaze, wet and wrinkled. His unnatural eyes twinkled and shimmered, two dying bulbs gasping for breath. He bent his knees and lowered himself onto his heels, his #face hovering just above hers.
“Oh my sweet, beautiful Willow.” He leaned forward and combed the tip of his nose through the curls of her hair as he breathed deep, then moved his lips just beyond her exposed ear and whispered. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.”
The image of the demon began to blur as Willow’s eyes flooded over.
“Aww.” Cyrus clicked his tongue as if trying to summon a cat. “Oh, my poor Weeping Willow.” As he sat hunched, thick #honey began to pool at the edges of his honeycomb eyes. A glob of the foul syrup freed itself and splattered onto Willow’s cheek. “Would you look at that? It looks like you’ve got me weeping, too.”
#WIPWord #EyesOnWillow #AmWriting #Writing #mastowriter #horror #fiction
There was scuffing on the floor, something plowing through the carpet just under her paralyzed face. Then a hand emerged below her cheek. Long branching fingers wrapped in soggy skin rose from underneath her bed. They gripped the mattress as a second hand appeared and together they pushed. The blurred image of a body oozed out from under the bed and across the floor into her line of #vision. A tear fell across the brim of Willow's nose.
Her brain pulled on the old cabinet, the one labeled 'Shit I Forgot.' It was locked. She tugged on the drawer, desperate to free the treasures stored inside, to find the name of that #cat. It was so close that her tongue seemed to guide itself, licking its letters which had embossed themselves onto the roof of her mouth like moistened braille. It was right there, teasing at her tongue, but the word held its grip and refused to slide off.
The man stood stagnant in a blue buttoned shirt and cream khakis. His eyes seemed to shimmer. Maybe it was the reflection of the #sun on the window, but Willow was certain his eyes had become ponds of black water, rippling against the breeze of the dying summer.
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It was another sort of vampire, a sly and seductive parasite with long thin fangs which were laced with the promise of a numbing escape. Willow allowed it to swoon her and whisper its promises of relief as it fed. She was a willing prey, so long as it kept her #safe from the one who had orphaned her, chewed her up and spit her back out into lonely darkness, and so far it had. With each piercing of its needled incisors the memory of the true beast began to fade.
Jonathan_Sheldon