Monday's Minute Challenge

Elena

 Maxiel twirled the mask around his finger. “It’s lovely isn’t’ it?”

“No! Stop!” Sara cried, reaching for the mask that had been her mothers.

“Oh stop now, I won’t break it, it’s much too valuable for that. I just plan to keep it. How does that sound?”

The girl kept reaching, but she was barely half the height of the tall man. Tears streamed relentlessly down her face. The mask was all the memory she had. It was all she had period. No home, no family, not even a dress but the one she was wearing.
“You’re going to be trouble aren’t you,” the man sneered. He twirled the mask one last time, its brilliant jewels flashing in the sun before he tucked it away in his coat. He smiled cruelly and grabbed Sara by the wrist.

“Ow! Stop it, help!” she cried pitifully.

Maxiel shushed her and tossed her into a rusty discarded animal cage. He slammed the door and propped up a bucket from the pile of rubbish against it. “Now…’stay,’” he laughed. The villain turned around and stroked his fingers over the mask-Elena’s mask. 14 years he had searched for it. Elena had run far away, so far he couldn’t get to her until now, after she was long dead. He wondered how she had hidden all those years, what fear must have always been in those blue eyes. He was a fool to ever have loved her…married her. Stupid emotions and their fickle nature.

Sara whimpered in the cage trying to calm the tears spilling from her crystal blue eyes. “Let me go…” she gasped, but Maxiel acted as though he hadn’t heard.

Suddenly another voice entered the alley.

“Let my daughter go, Max,” Elena demanded, her blue eyes glinting.

Lace A. Narrator

10 Minute Writing

Wow I haven't posted in awhile! Here is a little something I wrote in ten minutes. I guess you could call it free form poetry? Anyways enjoy!

If snow was silent

 Some people say that snow is soft and silent

The quiet flakes fall down and tickle noses with downy feathers, cold tendrils reaching with whispers

They say snow hushes the forests and the trees

It gives hiding to the birds and padding to tiny paws

Well if snow is silent, silence is not always what you would expect

Silence becomes the sound of eerie creaking and the twanging of a rope as fresh powdered snow flattens beneath feet padded with toe warmers and wool socks

Beneath boots heavy as anvils to the fragile piles of crystal

Silence is the slushing and sloshing of muddied white, imprinted with footsteps’ marks

Silence is the scrape and pat of mittens on domes of snow piled towards the chilly sky

If snow is silent silence is a crunch

A mighty or gradual sinking crunch as the topmost layer of sheets collapses in on the hollow pillow

It is the poof as a carefully sculpted sphere dissipates against the marshmallow protection of a winter coat

Or the cry of delight and horror as the snowball instead collides with an unprotected face

If snow is silent then silence is sound

A million sounds that all feel like a chilly day in January

Snow sounds like smiling and layers of clothing and crackling fireplaces inside

It sounds like winter storm warnings and traffic reports and closed school for the day

It sounds like delight and snowmen and it sounds like a grumbled comment about moving far away.

That’s what snow sounds like to me.

A million different sounds. But no, snow is not silent.

[][][] The Story Weaver [][][]