hjpriestley.bsky.social
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In Caine Wood, the Tic-Tac-Oak remains more monument than tree, with a halo of shadow, but not from its barren sprawl. No crocus comes in spring, no leaf lies at fall. The scars of crosses and knots of eyes mean nothing to a perching fledgling, and the virescent forest quivers in reply. #WriteCBC
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I love this podcast!
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Sage and leather catch the skirts of my tongue, while tall, ebony bookcases crest above like a barrelling wave. At the end of the glum, narrow hall, a white canvas lures me like a window of light with a brushed spiral of rusty red, but I startle as its centre hosts a handprint of blood. #WriteCBC
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Well done @hjpriestley.bsky.social and
@larab84.bsky.social. You have each won a £50 course voucher to be used on our online courses.
Prize details here: www.curtisbrowncreative.co.uk/blog/how-to-...
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2025 is my year to step out my comfort zone. I’m going to come away from my comfort series and start new lives who face a series of unfortunate events. These poor, poor characters 😅🤦🏻♀️ #WritingCommunity #WriteCBC
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They scuttle from the roof as icy shapes dart to the grim wood forming a womanly silhouette.
“She’ll be back,” mums says as the flame in my palm grows, shrinking the hearth’s glow.
“Do you think the other EllaMentals know we’re here? What do we do?”
She absorbs the fire, “We run.”
#5ActFestiveStory
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While frozen before the crystallising figure rising from the fog. The silhouette forms glassy skin, but those eyes.
His glacial glare lifts with a smirk, “My, my, Ella, how you’ve grown.”
I glance at the fire, but his brow lifts, “I dare you.”
His smirk drops as the hearth flares…
#5ActFestiveStory
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The nerves are contagious while lifting her case through the crunching snow as we trudge to the car and jump in. Through the descent of dusk, a golden glow of headlights illuminate the lane. The truck speeds toward us, colliding into the side of our car, throwing us from our seats.
#5ActFestiveStory
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She scrambles to stand, unsteady as she swings into the hall, pulling her coat from the rack.
She cries, “Call your brother!”
“Why?”
“Call him!”
She’s breathless by the front door, while the monotonous dial tone screams into the silence, but someone else answers, “You’re too late.”#5ActFestiveStory
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A heat surges in my chest, with steam increasing pressure like the rising heat of a kettle, releasing a hissing whistle through gritted teeth. He will be sorry. The front door flings open with rhythmic steps crunching untrodden snow, releasing a satisfying creak beside his trail.
#5ActFestiveStory