Snowmorethanashes
Past Jupiter
- Pronouns
- They/Them
This is a collection writing. For practice, for fun, and because I want somewhere to shove my anonymous writing. I welcome feedback and just chatting.
First story is...
She stood at the window of her new home and wept.
No real reason, she just felt like crying in the January heat. The night sky filled with shifting clouds she couldn't discern in to familiar shapes. The tears bit in to the corners of her eyes as she pulled on a cigarette desperately.
She was stable, finally, all of that shakey financial crap gone when she moved in with her long-term partner. No more worrying about food for tomorrow or digging through ashtrays at odd hours to scrape together enough tobacco for a single cig.
Oh how she missed it, though. The spontaneity, the drama, the friends. Her entire life gone in smoke the moment she moved across state lines.
Maybe she did know why she was crying.
She stared through the open window to the treeline and listened to the broken crickets. She felt isolated, that's what her councillor said. Not alone, she'd had plenty of time alone and quite enjoyed it back when she was living in the group home. No, the word that her confidant had used was isolated.
Despite the love she felt from her wife, the stable house, the new computer sitting with new games to be played. What was wrong with her? This was everything she'd literally dreamed about since her parents booted her out the door when she was 18, "so long, good luck, don't come crying home if you fail."
Something moved out in the brush and she shivered. Probably a deer, nothing more. They were everywhere around here. "Boonies bring daft deer" Margret used to say while searched for cigarette butts on the edge of town.
She snuffed the cigarette and with trained hands tore in to a new pack.
Hweeereeee.
Wind, earthy and hot, tousled her hair. The lavender air freshener she used to hide her smoking spot was overwhelmed by the smell of dead leaves and rot. She shivered and watched the trees sway.
The forest was always filled with sounds of life. The scream of fox and loon, a raccoon or two shuffling around looking for food. The only thing that scared her were the wild hogs and for them her wife had left a pellet gun to scare them off if they got too close.
Hweeeeeereeeee.
The underbrush grew more agitated and the trees swayed harder as the wind undulaed like breath. The forest fell silent. Her little cricket friends left her, their staggered music cut off mid symphony.
Everyone left her eventually. Even before she left home her phone had stopped ringing, her chat messages dark. It wasn't intentional, people just had different lives or spent too long away. She cursed through her newly lit cigarette, the wounds still fresh after all these years.
Hweeeeree.
Breaking twigs and wood accelerated. The trees hit sway apex and kept going, fell with earth shaking thuds. She backed away from the window and reached for the gun at her side. The air sucked and pushed, clawed at her skin with the selfsame desperation she had had.
Hweere.
Something huge and bulbous tore through the forest. The smell of rot, of dead leaves, mushooms filled the air and she gagged.
Hwere.
The monster broke through the tree cover. She raised the gun and fired shot after shot, the pellets thwapping agianst soft skin. She screamed.
Hweere.
Tendrils reached through the window reaching for her. She cowered against a tool chest as the thing plucked the cigarette from her mouth, the cherry end flairing in its breath.
It brought the burning tobacco to its mouth and puffed. Music, slow and droning came from it as it scisored its back legs.
"Hweere," it said.
She reached for her pack and drew another cigarette.
First story is...
Broken Crickets
She stood at the window of her new home and wept.
No real reason, she just felt like crying in the January heat. The night sky filled with shifting clouds she couldn't discern in to familiar shapes. The tears bit in to the corners of her eyes as she pulled on a cigarette desperately.
She was stable, finally, all of that shakey financial crap gone when she moved in with her long-term partner. No more worrying about food for tomorrow or digging through ashtrays at odd hours to scrape together enough tobacco for a single cig.
Oh how she missed it, though. The spontaneity, the drama, the friends. Her entire life gone in smoke the moment she moved across state lines.
Maybe she did know why she was crying.
She stared through the open window to the treeline and listened to the broken crickets. She felt isolated, that's what her councillor said. Not alone, she'd had plenty of time alone and quite enjoyed it back when she was living in the group home. No, the word that her confidant had used was isolated.
Despite the love she felt from her wife, the stable house, the new computer sitting with new games to be played. What was wrong with her? This was everything she'd literally dreamed about since her parents booted her out the door when she was 18, "so long, good luck, don't come crying home if you fail."
Something moved out in the brush and she shivered. Probably a deer, nothing more. They were everywhere around here. "Boonies bring daft deer" Margret used to say while searched for cigarette butts on the edge of town.
She snuffed the cigarette and with trained hands tore in to a new pack.
Hweeereeee.
Wind, earthy and hot, tousled her hair. The lavender air freshener she used to hide her smoking spot was overwhelmed by the smell of dead leaves and rot. She shivered and watched the trees sway.
The forest was always filled with sounds of life. The scream of fox and loon, a raccoon or two shuffling around looking for food. The only thing that scared her were the wild hogs and for them her wife had left a pellet gun to scare them off if they got too close.
Hweeeeeereeeee.
The underbrush grew more agitated and the trees swayed harder as the wind undulaed like breath. The forest fell silent. Her little cricket friends left her, their staggered music cut off mid symphony.
Everyone left her eventually. Even before she left home her phone had stopped ringing, her chat messages dark. It wasn't intentional, people just had different lives or spent too long away. She cursed through her newly lit cigarette, the wounds still fresh after all these years.
Hweeeeree.
Breaking twigs and wood accelerated. The trees hit sway apex and kept going, fell with earth shaking thuds. She backed away from the window and reached for the gun at her side. The air sucked and pushed, clawed at her skin with the selfsame desperation she had had.
Hweere.
Something huge and bulbous tore through the forest. The smell of rot, of dead leaves, mushooms filled the air and she gagged.
Hwere.
The monster broke through the tree cover. She raised the gun and fired shot after shot, the pellets thwapping agianst soft skin. She screamed.
Hweere.
Tendrils reached through the window reaching for her. She cowered against a tool chest as the thing plucked the cigarette from her mouth, the cherry end flairing in its breath.
It brought the burning tobacco to its mouth and puffed. Music, slow and droning came from it as it scisored its back legs.
"Hweere," it said.
She reached for her pack and drew another cigarette.