The Challenge, write a poem or flash fiction story about a creature you came across in the woods. In the description, show us, don’t tell. Use any of the five senses to describe the scene as it unfolds.
Sight
Hearing
Smell
Taste
Touch
We will showcase the top two challenge responses in our newsletter. And the best part, the selection process is decided by you, our readers. The two writers who receive the highest number of likes will be declared the winners. We’ll lock the thread Sunday or Monday and then will share the two winners! Are you up to the challenge? I’ll kick it off.
I saw a beast where I did roam, A ghastly sight from the unknown. Its teeth as white like virgin snow, Yet red lines dripped in a firey glow.
Its smell was like the musty sea, Ten leagues down in a submarine, No air for one to hardly breathe, Except for death which never leaves.
I turned and tried to flee the scene, Right before I set the knives free. One to the head and the other to the knee. The beast fell like a limb from a tree.
So now I sit by an open flame, With blood-red meat from the game. A feast for four and a legend named, Not the beast, but my name proclaimed!
I was foraging for berries to make tutti-frutti ice-cream when I saw the flash from the corner of my eye. I turned, and it was gone. I smelled vanilla and lavender… weird, because seconds before I had been smelling the acrid, musky smell of elderberries.
When I got home, I heard crying. Simonne was teasing Theresa – again. These days, she has made a habit of it, no matter how much I tell her not to.
I entered the house through the side-door. “There is no tooth fairy!” she was saying, “Mama and papa just made her up just as they made up the Sandman and the Easter Bunny. They just trick you into believing that she exists, so that they can give you some extra pocket money without your having to ask for it!”
I saw the flash again, I tell you, and this time it was like a spiral whirl, not just a beeline. And, was that glitter in the air? I reached out to touch it, and there was nothing.
“But she exists!” young Theresa sobbed. “I know she does. I saw her picture in a book once, and mama and papa do not play silly jokes like that. I mean, I know the Easter Bunny does not exist, because bunnies never grow that big. The Sandman does not exist either, because every night, before I sleep, I knock about under my bed with a broom, and I would feel him if he were there… But I tell you, the Tooth Fairy exists. She does, too!”
“OK, have it your way!” said Simonne with a nasty grin on her face. “But if you stay awake long enough, and pretend you are asleep, you will see mama tiptoe into your bedroom at night, and she will take away the tooth and put a €uro coin there, instead.”
Simonne swanned out of the room, tossing her long blonde hair. At 15, she thinks she is too grown up to believe in fantasy.
Theresa rubbed her eyes and asked me whether the Tooth Fairy exists, or not.
“We shall have to wait and see…” I said, not committing myself. I was the one who told Theresa that the Tooth Fairy has lots of dresses with frilly skirts and tights that match her t-shirts., and fluorescent gossamer wings that shine in the sun. During the night, they catch the moonbeams, and so she is always surrounded by light.
Next morning, I was sipping my coffee leisurely, since it was a Saturday and I did not have to go to work. There was a kaleidoscope of butterflies flitting around over the flowers – but there was also that rainbow sparkly spital, moving around and between them – it seemed, indeed, like they were playing with the light.
Theresa came running downstairs.
“Look! Mama! Look! See what I got!” she shouted. Simonne looked at me and gave me a sarcastic smile.
“The Tooth Fairy left me €20!”
Ooops. I had forgotten that Theresa had lost a tooth the morning before. She had brought it from school, wrapped in her handkerchief. And my husband was abroad, sop he could not have left the money.
The cat woke up, and jumped onto the windowsill, as he did every morning. He meowed loudly, and ran out of the cat flap, instead of rushing to the food bowl as he usually did… and began playing with the light and with the butterflies, who did not seem scared of him at all, today.
Nothing But the Tooth
I was foraging for berries to make tutti-frutti ice-cream when I saw the flash from the corner of my eye. I turned, and it was gone. I smelled vanilla and lavender… weird, because seconds before I had been smelling the acrid, musky smell of elderberries.
When I got home, I heard crying. Simonne was teasing Theresa – again. These days, she has made a habit of it, no matter how much I tell her not to.
I entered the house through the side-door. “There is no tooth fairy!” she was saying, “Mama and papa just made her up just as they made up the Sandman and the Easter Bunny. They just trick you into believing that she exists, so that they can give you some extra pocket money without your having to ask for it!”
I saw the flash again, I tell you, and this time it was like a spiral whirl, not just a beeline. And, was that glitter in the air? I reached out to touch it, and there was nothing.
“But she exists!” young Theresa sobbed. “I know she does. I saw her picture in a book once, and mama and papa do not play silly jokes like that. I mean, I know the Easter Bunny does not exist, because bunnies never grow that big. The Sandman does not exist either, because every night, before I sleep, I knock about under my bed with a broom, and I would feel him if he were there… But I tell you, the Tooth Fairy exists. She does, too!”
“OK, have it your way!” said Simonne with a nasty grin on her face. “But if you stay awake long enough, and pretend you are asleep, you will see mama tiptoe into your bedroom at night, and she will take away the tooth and put a €uro coin there, instead.”
Simonne swanned out of the room, tossing her long blonde hair. At 15, she thinks she is too grown up to believe in fantasy.
Theresa rubbed her eyes and asked me whether the Tooth Fairy exists, or not.
“We shall have to wait and see…” I said, not committing myself. I was the one who told Theresa that the Tooth Fairy has lots of dresses with frilly skirts and tights that match her t-shirts., and fluorescent gossamer wings that shine in the sun. During the night, they catch the moonbeams, and so she is always surrounded by light.
Next morning, I was sipping my coffee leisurely, since it was a Saturday and I did not have to go to work. There was a kaleidoscope of butterflies flitting around over the flowers – but there was also that rainbow sparkly spital, moving around and between them – it seemed, indeed, like they were playing with the light.
Theresa came running downstairs.
“Look! Mama! Look! See what I got!” she shouted. Simonne looked at me and gave me a sarcastic smile.
“The Tooth Fairy left me €20!”
Ooops. I had forgotten that Theresa had lost a tooth the morning before. She had brought it from school, wrapped in her handkerchief. And my husband was abroad, sop he could not have left the money.
The cat woke up, and jumped onto the windowsill, as he did every morning. He meowed loudly, and ran out of the cat flap, instead of rushing to the food bowl as he usually did… and began playing with the light and with the butterflies, who did not seem scared of him at all, today.
Under a rock on the left side of my well-worn forest path
just around the turn where the oak tree bearing
carved names of lost loves rests weary and gnarled--
there! Over there! See the phosphorescence glowing sharply
blood-rosy sparked with anger. Out from the light seeps
scented memories of wool tweed and Old Spice.
It oozes past the mound of grasses
weeping into emptiness—there’s no one here
who’ll listen. Light makes shadows, and in those shadows
I feel your fist upon my cheek, my chin, my soft
reclusive inner child. I hear the snarl of my name,
one of many not my own you spit into my face. Backing up
my spine a rigid mast against the oak, I feel for the initials
carved by one who loved me way back when, who wiped
my blood with flannel, whose unkept promises were not
her fault. Now I feel her strength embolden mine. There is nothing
here to fear. I take a sturdy breath, move my heavy feet
and leave you all alone beneath dark branches weighed by
incrimination, a single stone to keep you in your place.
Hope you don't mind I did another.. These are so much fun! Thanks for the prompts! ..Moe Phillips
Puff of smoke glides through night air.
Moist ground alive with meal and meat.
Five feet of wings, haunts the trees.
Listening for the roar, of a miniature pink foot.
Head swivels. Eyes blink.
North. Then South.
Talons stretch and bend.
Itching for the strike.
Burst of dried leaves, sends a gunshot
through the forest.
They float down,
as silent as the hunter,
to rest again
in the fresh indentation
of empty earth.
There was a rustling
A bustling amongst the leaves.
A quick bark
To let me know it was near.
Perhaps it had some young’uns.
I never saw them,
As it scampered from limb to limb.
But I had to grin
As it performed its acrobatic tricks
Looking for this or that.
Poking its nose into everything.
And finally, finally, stopping long enough
To munch on a seed or nut
Or perhaps an insect
Caught unawares.
This one was brown, not grey, not red, not black.
It barked one more time, as I walked on and looked back.
Midnight Hunger -Moe Phillips
Screaming from a hollow tree,
a voice cries out
“Who cooks for ME!”
Echoes in the forest ring.
In the name of God,
feed that thing!
Light, moon light
reflections of peace,
Might running dry
differed splashes.
Beauty and serene
the woods seize,
After winds please
skin who tire with lashes.
A hard thud presses the ground
then came a harder sigh.
A hand lead its way to hound
wet plains where it lie.
Thuds came beneath downed eyes
in silence came frowned unwise why's.
A loud bang
the surroundings darken,
A rustle of leaves
the river clouds sink in,
A heightened sense
the plants sunken,
An emerging figure
and the beating heart who bargain.
Its snout face across the running waters
Its lashes shine under the light, moon light
Its tongue seek the differed splashes
Its feet feel the wind who pleases
His heart feel might running dry.
I sat across the running waters
My heart bargains still a plenty.
Yet came a sense of humanity,
A peace which came from nature only.