laurawriteberry

[laurawriteberry]

Cursed

Everyone knew the local legend of the Fae Queen, travelling from miles to hear more about her.

Only one had survived to tell tales of her.

Most bought his stories of dashing escapes, challenging mind games or innocuous traps he'd laid to be free. But the truth was, she let him go. He tried to search for every reason why this was somehow a trap, but it was only as he was returned to his cosy home that he discovered the price of his freedom: he could never tell the truth about the Fae.

Instead, he was cursed to tell flattering stories that would fascinate, enrapture, beguile or enchant humans enough, so they'd blindly follow any Fae who came searching for humans they could torment and torture for centuries. He'd watch their eyes glaze over and knew they were potential victims, but no matter how much he tried to warn them, his warnings were never spoken aloud.

He'd tried to kill himself, to rid himself of the curse, but it was no good. He was trapped to do her bidding for eternity. Or perhaps until she tired of her pet and replaced him with another. At one point, that would've scared him, but now, death seemed more like a mercy than this wretched state he was in.

It had been centuries since he'd last seen the Fae Queen. She'd promised him peace and tranquility when she'd freed him, and again, he'd thought it was another trick. To an extent, she had kept her word: he did now live in a cosy cottage in a quiet forest on the edge of town.

However, on occasion, he'd feel himself being forced to go out and socialise, effectively continuing to doom humanity to her wants and whims. The words would flow out without his say so, which was how the curse worked, but he'd hear her cackle delightfully when she'd found a human she was particularly fond of. He'd always try to protect them, to beg them to leave, but the words were never spoken aloud. If anything, it earned him a swarm of bees inside his cottage or creatures attacking him for a few days afterwards. A constant reminder who still had the power here.

It was an ordinary spring evening, the sun setting across the sky. He was making himself a cup of tea and intended on relaxing with a good book in his favourite armchair, only to drop his teacup upon seeing her in his armchair. She smiled at him, the same smile that had drawn him in centuries ago, but now left him torn inside.

"Greetings Charles," she said, her eyes lighting up as he shuddered at the way she spoke his name. How was he still enchanted by her, after all this time?

"Your Majestic Greatness. What brings you here?"

"Charles, I have concerns." She flicked her wrist, forcing Charles to sit down on his wooden dining room chairs that were somewhat uncomfortable. Another trick, he was sure. "Your stories are wonderful, truly."

"They aren't-" She raised an eyebrow at him. His mouth closed shut, unable to open again.

"I have heard there is someone who could be immune to your stories, and if that is true, I need you to destroy them." Charles' eyes widened. Someone who could finally free him from this infernal curse? He almost smiled, but upon seeing the thunderous expression on her face, his features rearranged themselves for him. "This is not amusing, Charles."

Perhaps you ought to kill me then, he thought.

She smiled again, only this was her sinister smile she reserved right before she tormented someone in such a way, they would have nightmares for weeks. "Now, why would I remove my favourite pet?"

He shuddered again, closing his eyes in the hopes this would all disappear. Instead, he felt a hand tilt his chin upwards and forced his eyes open to look at her towering above him. "Please, Your Majestic-"

"Save your whimpering. We are going to alter your curse. When you find the human who is immune to my stories, you will kill them." His eyes widened. "I do not care how you do it, but you will be compelled to kill them. You will not be able to stop until they are dead." She frowned, then seemed to settle on something. "Just for good measure, you cannot kill yourself in your pursuit of killing this human. Should they kill you, you will be resurrected until the task is completed. If someone else disposes of the human, you will no longer have this desire to kill them. Understood?"

He fought against the curse, against her and the power she held over him, but he was helpless to do anything but obey. She smiled one final time, kissing him on the cheek. He always hated her kisses, for they always made him pass out, usually without warning, and when he awoke, he'd forgotten what happened.

He was safe for a decade or so, until one day, a woman walked into the pub where he was mid story and stared straight at him. The rage on her face was evident, the clenched fists aiming right for his face. She then forced his mouth open and poured a potion into him.

It had no effect.

He could hear her cruel cackle again, calling her a pathetic human for trying to break her spell. When the potion was all gone, the woman looked at him with curiosity, trying to determine whether it had worked.

Instead, something stirred within him. He knew what he had to do.

He had to kill her.

[laurawriteberry]

Rose Tinted Glasses

The rose tinted glasses fell to the ground, smashing in the process, now the facade faded. She saw the truth of him and all he represented, of all the people who'd treated her similarly.

She saw all the ways she belittled herself, hid herself away, convinced herself she wasn't enough as she was. She saw through the brutal honesty and harsh truths as ways to keep her down, to reinforce her negative thoughts.

But she found others who loved her for her. Or most of her anyway. They didn't think her laugh was too loud or her curiosity too annoying. They didn't scold her for dreaming or shut her down when she had creative ideas. They didn't manipulate her or control her, keep her hidden away or tame her to fit societal expectations.

They let her shine and encouraged her to keep shining.

She smiled. His smirk dropped. Reality hit, and now he had nothing on her. Nor did the others who'd hurt her before. Not any more.

[laurawriteberry]

Temptation

He held her jaw in his right hand, leaning his face close to hers. "Give into temptation for once. Imagine how good it'll feel."

She'd never been tempted by a person before, but he was an exception. She wanted to be consumed by him, to let him have his way with her, consequences be damned. Temptation now had a face, one that was impossible to forget. It would haunt her dreams and poison her waking life. How could she stop her heart from beating out with wild abandon when he held her, came close to her, even just looked at her?

One wrong move and she'd lose everything. Her reputation, potentially her family, everything she'd ever known. All for what? A man she barely knew who promised her a wild time that likely ended in flames and destruction. She'd be burned and shamed, exiled and lost - none sounding appealing in the long term.

He smirked down at her, seeing something in her face that she hadn't meant to convey. Or perhaps he knew if he smirked, she'd be done for. It would be the final push into temptation, to instant gratification, to her own demise.

What's life without temptation after all?

[laurawriteberry]

Reflection

Perhaps she was the problem.

All she'd ever wanted was to help others and be loved as herself, but she wasn't good at opening up or communicating with others. She'd never been taught how. The few occasions she did open up, she moaned about her health conditions that people tired of hearing about, but were too polite to say anything.

Did she keep everyone at arm's length or only some people? Do people love her for her or only the version of herself she presents to the world? Is she too different from most people or just an introvert who can't deal with most people? Did she accidentally become too compliant that she never wanted to be a burden?

Does she give off a naive, helpless vibe that everyone has to help her and coddle her or do they get tired of her bullshit and leave? Does she play the victim when she could change her circumstances? Does she hold herself back and becomes miserable for keeping herself contained? Does she come across as a blunt know it all?

All she wanted was to be loved. Instead, she fears she became tolerable. After all, who wants a shell of a human being around?

[laurawriteberry]

Orpheus & Eurydice

After seeing Hadestown for the first time and becoming obsessed with it, she always assumed she was Eurydice. She was disillusioned by people and went wherever the wind blew, desperate to escape the hard ships that always seemed to follow her round, like the Fates haunting Eurydice.

But she didn't see herself properly, for she eagerly anticipated meeting new people in new places, craving untold stories. She captured their stories in whatever form, although she often preferred putting pen to paper, letting the words flow with ease.

Then she met him. She became consumed by him, relishing in having a more permanent muse. He, who joked with her and flirted with her. He, who posed like a model and lounged around like he had all the time in the world. But she was blinded to his suffering, too caught up in crafting the ultimate love story. She didn't see how he stole food at the end of his shift, how the bruises formed on his skin, how he couldn't look her in the eyes when she asked about them, and how easily he spun lies to stop her worrying.

He called out to her in desperation, but it fell on deaf ears.

Some stories are destined to end in tragedy, and this couple were no different. No matter how many times she begged and pleaded to try again, to be put in a different scenario, doubt always won.

A warning to be heeded, but she ignored it every time.

[laurawriteberry]

Love Story

You told me to write the most epic love story, to find the words to encompass all the love we feel for each other, even before we met. Write a love story that could show the world what unconditional love looks like, even with every obstacle thrown our way.

But I don't want to share such a sacred story with the world. I want to keep it as a divine secret whispered across the stars. I want to keep it between us as we retell it to our loved ones, like you would over a campfire back in ancient civilisations. I want to let it spread like the old myths, to inspire others with their own version of our tale.

I want the hushed conversations to be for my ears only, the endless cuddles for my arms only, the variety of kisses for my lips only, and the breath taking beauty of you for my eyes only. In fact, I want all of you, including the shadow sides, to be just for me. I want to treasure your secrets, marvel at your anecdotes, and cherish your insecurities and fears, so you won't be so scared.

Tell me, can you live with that?

[laurawriteberry]

Discovery

They both gasped as they stared at the screen in front of them. After countless months of late nights, take outs, and lack of personal hygiene, they'd achieved the impossible.

Right now, they were the only two people in the world who knew. No doubt, within hours, more people would know, and soon enough, it could lead to the entire world knowing.

"Now what?"

"Now, we celebrate. You owe me after you ate the last dumpling." Jason smiled. "C'mon, lighten up! We'll go down in history!"

Jason frowned at his words, then saw the manic look in his eyes that could only come from sleep deprivation. But there was something else, something more sinister. Greed and power were already corrupting him, even just making the discovery. He was seeing all the possibilities, but they all seemed to be around exploiting others and living a lifestyle he'd spent his whole life desiring. The fame, the fortune, the eternal glory.

He'd promised Jason it wouldn't go to his head, and Jason had foolishly believed him. Even when he suspected his colleague was becoming consumed by his own ambition, he ignored the warning signs, sped right through the red flags and clung to the hope he could pull him back.

He was wrong.

He heard him say goodbye, leaving Jason alone with the computer, with all their hard work. How naive, to think Jason wouldn't do something reckless. The world wasn't ready for their discovery, and they shouldn't be the ones to impose it on humankind in the hopes they'll adapt eventually. Why speed up a disaster waiting to happen?

He did what he had to do. Or so he told himself as he destroyed his career, his reputation, everything he'd spent his whole life on.

Maybe one day, the world would know he did them a favour. But by then, it'd be too late.

[laurawriteberry]

Crash

The silence is deafening.

What started as a fun holiday abroad with my younger sister ended in a tragic disaster I'm still recovering from. The sole survivor of a plane crash, including innocent civilians, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So many people keep asking me questions, whether it's friends, family, total strangers, even the press. But I don't remember anything. One minute, I was sat on the plane, just staring at the seat in front of me, the next... smoke, rubble, crashing...

I've been bombarded with texts, phone calls and emails, all concerned about me or amazed at how I survived. But how can I respond when I'm barely here? I've been numb since I was conscious, trying to process what happened, and more importantly, who I lost.

My baby sister.

It had been her idea to go on this holiday together. We'd had so many other holidays planned, although not actually booked. We'd had milestones we were gonna hit, and we'd grow old together with big families, a loving partner and a life we were proud of.

How am I meant to carry on now when my heart went down with the plane and was replaced by a rock instead?

[laurawriteberry]

Anticipation

She anticipated something, but she hadn't a clue what. She often had this feeling over the years, but nothing much happened.

This feeling was always associated with a person, but she hadn't a clue who they were or why they'd be important to her and her life. When she was younger, she'd assumed it was her one true love, destined to find her and fall in love with her. While some part of her felt utterly disillusioned by the thought, another part couldn't stop herself from holding onto that thought, that hope, that dream.

Fate toyed with her, leaving her clues and signs everywhere for her to piece together, slowly over time. It was an unsolved mystery, but one she couldn't help but long to solve. Perhaps because every time she became disillusioned and walked away, another piece of the mystery would be unveiled, tempting her back in.

How infuriating, to chase a mystery that could lead anywhere. Although, she often suspected it was leading towards a mystery person, who may or may not want anything to do with her, let alone love her. They could have only a minor interaction, such as bumping into each other on the street, or catching their eyes across a crowded room, and that would be their only interaction.

All she has is trust and a leap of faith.

[laurawriteberry]

Familiar

She walked off the plane and into the once familiar airport, stepping back into her teenage self as she re-emerged. Earphones in, drowning out the world, usually hormonal, definitely grumpy or tired, and somewhat insecure as she hugged herself through her latest favourite hoodie. But despite the usual teenage issues, she had hopes and dreams, and Ireland always reignited her in a way her hometown rarely did.

The future seemed so bright and attainable, following the path she set for herself. If she just got through school, her future would naturally unfold around her with minimal struggles. She'd saunter into this dream life and be happy because it was her dream life, not her parent's dream life or society's expected version of a dream life, although it was pretty close.

But life doesn't work like that, as she'd soon find out. Her dream life would slip through her fingers, leaving her devastated and directionless. It was never attainable anyway, but she didn't know that. Couldn't possibly know that. Still, the ache to be young and naive again, even just for a day, would be a wonderful feeling. To not know what cruelty was to come, and how much it would destroy her very essence.

A brief reminder of who she was fades as who she is now returns, striding up to the passport control man with the confidence of someone who's done this plenty of times. She passes through, grabs her suitcase and follows her mum towards where they were staying. Watching the countryside pass by, she remembers why she loves Ireland so much.

Her past and present collide in that moment.

[laurawriteberry]

Pistachio Harm

"Pistachios are harmful," recites Maddy as she joins us, her tote bag swinging on her left shoulder.

"Not this again," says Carlie, shaking her head from her place on the picnic rug, laying out on her right side. "For the last time, you don't have a nut allergy."

"How do you know?"

"Have you ever had Nutella?" Maddy didn't respond. "I'll assume you have, and I'll also assume you didn't feel any reaction."

"Yeah, but that's just a... condiment? Spread? Whatever it is, it's not fully nutty."

"No, but they can't necessarily remove all the nut, so they have to put traces of nut on their label," says Nicola, not lifting her eyes from her book. "If you had a nut allergy, you would've reacted to Nutella."

"Ah ha!" says Carlie, victorious.

I smile at the three of them, grateful for our friendship, no matter how odd it seems to an outsider. One a stereotypical girly girl, one a stereotypical punk rocker, one a stereotypical bookish nerd and one an androgynous witch. It's a weird combo, but we all mesh together well.

"They got you," I say, leaning back on my hands and tilting my head up towards the sky.

"Ugh, whatever," says Maddy as she collapses onto the spare patch of the picnic rug, her tote bag falling beside her. "So... what're we drinking?"

"Vodka," says Carlie.

"How do you drink that in broad daylight and not late at night by the moon?"

"Hey, don't diss witches," I say. "Or I'll curse you."

Maddy rolls her eyes. "Sorry, but c'mon. Vodka at 3pm?! That's so... early!"

Carlie shrugs. "I guess some of us like to start earlier than others."

"Vodka is more harmful than pistachios," says Nicola, her focus still on her book.

"Double victory! This is a great day," says Carlie, grinning.

"I hate you all," says Maddy.

"Woah, bit strong there princess."

"For the last time-"

"You can't get me to stop."

"Stop it, the pair of you," I say. "Sometimes, I think you're as bad as the other."

Nicola pauses, looks up from her book and splutters. "Christ, that's... a lot of green." Her eyes go down Maddy's body then back up again, averting her gaze.

Maddy grins in return. "What's wrong with exposing a bit of cleavage?"

"Planning on your next hook up?" half jokes Carlie.

"Mm," Maddy responds, her eyes already scanning the park for her target.

"Utterly predictable." But Carlie sits up, leaning on her right hand instead. "Him," she points towards a stereotypical athletic type, no shirt on, kicking a football with his mates.

Maddy lowers her sunglasses to take a glance, then half smiles. "Oh, he'll do. Good spot." She hesitates. "You should find someone too."

Carlie flinches, then shakes her head. "Nope. We're not having this conversation." Then she takes a long glug of vodka.

"Do you mind-" begins Maddy.

"Go already," I say.

We watch her saunter over, taking her time. "I bet you she'll fumble him and go for one of his mates instead," says Carlie.

Nicola bit her lip. "I always lose bets with you."

"Yeah, same," I agree.

"I can't help knowing her better than you two."

"You two live together," says Nicola. "You have an unfair advantage."

"Contact's been made," I say. "Ugh, with his mate."

"Ha! Get wrecked. Do I know her or what?"

"Okay, when can I move in?" I tease, but Carlie shoots me a look.

"About that. Uh, me and Mads were thinking... maybe the four of us could live together." Nicola raises her eyebrows. "Hear me out! We mesh well together, and what do we have to lose?"

"Do you remember what happened the last time we shared? I nearly killed you cos you were so messy."

"Oh, c'mon. You were so uptight. I did it to mess with you."

"I like things a certain way. You know this!"

"I know this now. I didn't know back then why it meant so much to you. I promise, I'll be better this time. Please?"

"Why do you wanna share now? After all this time?" I ask.

"Rent. Two of our roommates are moving out to move in with their partners, and we don't wanna find new roommates. Not when we have two brilliant friends eager to move in with us."

I share a look with Nicola. "I mean, I'm willing if you are."

"You are such a traitor," says Nicola.

I shrug. "My roommate's kicking me out cos her brother's moving in. Apparently, family is more important than me, her roommate of... six months."

Carlie snorts, then says, "I would never-"

"Yes, you would. You and Mads definitely would. But hey, at least I'll be entertained."

"Yes! One down, one to go."

Nicola sighs. "Only because I'm in between places."

"Oh my god? The stars have actually aligned? This is the best!"

"We'll need some ground rules-"

"Oh, give it a rest, will you?" Nicola raises her eyebrows again. "No, like, we do, but can't you revel in this moment?"

Nicola smiles. "Oh, alright then."

"Roommates, roommates, roommates," Carlie chants. I watch her drink in celebration and think this will be good for her, even if she doesn't want to admit how much this will help her.

[laurawriteberry]

Sepia Stamps

Miranda begins searching through her mum's old boxes, determined to find inspiration in the endless stuff she hoards. She pulls out mementos and memorabilia, old childhood artworks and various hand crafted cards she created at school. But she discovers one box, shoved to the back, that has a musty smell and a thick layer of dust. She blows it off, coughs a bit, then opens it carefully, not wanting to break it.

Inside is tons of sepia toned images, long handwritten letters and postcards with stamps still on them. All memories from times long past, no doubt foggy in her mind. Miranda didn't think much of them, but as she started looking at them, almost analysing them, she recognised the same person throughout all the photos. A young looking man, someone her mum would've known a long time ago, but she'd never spoken of him before.

Instead of going back and asking her mum questions, she sits there and reads through the postcards, then the long handwritten letters. The postcards are short and brief. Perhaps this was in the early days, when they were courting and getting to know each other. Perhaps postcards are too short for declarations. Perhaps the people around them were too nosy. Regardless, Miranda noted all the places he visited and sent a postcard from, then noted the dates, to see how often he was travelling. To her, it seemed very frequent, his trips away.

It was only as she read the long handwritten letters that she realised what had happened. He wasn't a rich man gallivanting around the world, but rather, he was a sailor. A person who sailed around the world, delivering goods to others. She wished, more than anything, she had her mum's letters to him, but his words back were almost poetic and beautiful. He began by writing minimal words, struggling to write, but as the letters continued, his writing style gradually changed and became more poetic. He owed his literacy to her mum, who challenged him to learn how to read, then what to read. Some of her recommendations had made it into his letters, and those were the few she'd favoured and told her as a young child.

He wrote a goodbye letter. He knew his chances of survival were slim, so he pre-emptively wrote a goodbye letter. Like a suicide letter, but not. Miranda sat there, reading his goodbye letter and letting the tears drop down her cheek. She wasn't aware she was full on sobbing until she finished, letting her hand drop with the letter.

She didn't know how much time had passed before she went in search of her mum, the goodbye letter still in her hand. Her mum furrowed her eyebrows at the letter in her hand, then she looked at her daughter's face and knew. "You found his goodbye letter."

"Who was he?" Miranda asked, trying not to let her voice break.

"His name was Joe Jones. He was my first love. I dated and fell in love since, but he always had a soft spot in my heart."

"Why didn't you tell me about him?"

"Owen didn't like knowing I still had a soft spot for him. Not after all these years. I tried to reassure him so many times he's the only man I'm interested in, but men are insecure and don't like being compared to another man."

Miranda nodded, despite not agreeing with what her mum said. Her partner hadn't ever shown any signs of insecurity when she spoke of her first love. Maybe because he'd also shown a great appreciation for his first love. But neither felt threatened by their first loves.

"Well, I guess this might be a good start."

Her mum raised her eyebrows. "What, Joe? Sweetheart, you can find something better than that."

But Miranda shook her head. "No, this is the perfect starting point."

[laurawriteberry]

Midnight Coffee

We always used to have a midnight coffee.

It started in our university library that was open twenty four hours in deadline season. We'd go in around midday, claim a spot that hadn't already been claimed and stayed for hours. Melissa naively thought if we got to the uni library early enough, we'd be more motivated to complete the assignment earlier.

It didn't.

Instead, we invented a secret language to communicate with, laughed hysterically at nothing in particular and managed to discuss everything but our assignment. Other students would glare at us if we were on the quiet or silent floors, so we'd find a corner away from most people.

"Y'know what we need? Caffeine!"

We absolutely didn't need caffeine, but I would get sleepy and my assignment wouldn't complete itself. Not for lacking of hoping it would. Still, we ventured away from our stuff to hunt for coffee. We'd pretend we were in a documentary that required an ongoing commentary and quieter movements.

Once we'd acquired the precious caffeine, we went back to our stuff and put on our serious faces, hoping we could scare the assignment into being easier. It wasn't, and we didn't last very long before we were back to giggling and chatting.

When deadline season was done, we discovered life was more fun with a midnight coffee, or a midnight tea - it depended on the night. We shared a place with some other friends, but we always promised to have a weekly midnight coffee or tea, depending. Sometimes, we needed that coffee for the late, in depth conversation where you spill your guts to another. Sometimes, we preferred tea for a friendly catch up that would help lull us to a sleepy state.

Soon enough, we graduated university, and now here we are. Two years later. Two roommates living in our place together. But with our jobs snatching away our precious time, and our social lives diverting, we don't have as much time for our midnight coffee/tea. I keep trying to find the time, but Melissa dismisses me, each time with a new excuse.

She hasn't even noticed how far we're drifting, how she's chosen a new life and not brought me with her.

"Hey," I say one evening as she shuffles into the living room. I slurp from my mug, filled with tea.

She looks over, bites her lip, then comes over. "Hey." I raise an eyebrow. Her tone is different, as is she. She's not as vibrant or as dismissive, instead looking exhausted. "Midnight tea?" I nod. She bites the inside of her cheek before speaking again. "Can we chat again? I have things to say, things that won't be easy for you to hear."

I nod again, not daring to speak. My heart rate accelerates as I wait for whatever truth bomb she'll drop on me. Some part of me already hates her for ruining our tradition, and now she's determined to fully destroy whatever was left with her late night confession. I don't want to hear it, but I know I can't walk away without knowing.

She makes her tea and settles down on the opposite end of the couch to me. I try to wait patiently for her to say what's on her mind, but she takes too long, so I clear my throat and give her a pointed look.

"I'm moving out."

My heart cracks. "What?"

"Look," she puts down her mug and takes my hand in hers. "I have loved living with you, but Mikey asked me to move in with him, and Selena has just moved in, so it'll be great fun." My heart continues to break, and perhaps she can sense the onslaught of tears. "We're not close any more, not like we used to be."

"And who's fault is that?" I say before I can stop myself.

She looks taken aback. "Sophie, that's not fair. We've both been busy."

"Yeah, but I still made the effort. When was the last time you actually tried to talk to me? To actually ask me how I'm doing?" Silence. "If you wanna move out and move on without me, fine. Go ahead. I guess I'm not enough any more."

"We grew up-"

"No, you didn't. If you had, you wouldn't have treated me like a discarded toy you no longer want. That's something an immature person does. They hurt others without caring how much it hurts." I sniff, my voice cracking. "God, I wanted us to last, I really did. But I'm done. Leave. Go to your new life. I'm clearly not..." But no words would come.

I stand up, dump my mug in the sink and go back to my room. I thought she'd try to fight for our friendship, to stop me. But she doesn't. I climb into bed and curl into a ball, letting myself cry and grieve. It hurts, to know this is it. This is how our friendship ends.

So much for our midnight coffee.

[laurawriteberry]

Lilac Accent

"I'm thinking lilac for the walls," said Elaine as she stood proudly in her new flat, looking at the space around her.

"Mm," said her sister, Belinda, who hadn't looked up from her phone since they'd entered the room.

"Maybe an accent wall." She looked over to her oblivious sister and decided to test how much she wasn't paying attention. "Could get faux fur on the walls. Go with a jungle theme."

"Mm." Elaine pouted, then lightly hit her sister on the arm. "Ow!"

"Listen to me. I said I was thinking of having lilac walls, and maybe an accent wall."

"Lilac? Why lilac?"

"Why not lilac?"

Belinda didn't have a response. Instead, she looked at the white walls. "Which one would be the accent wall?"

"That one," said Elaine, pointing to the back wall. "I'm thinking of going with flowers."

"Flowers? Like lilacs?"

"Exactly! It'll blend well."

Belinda groaned. "I am never letting you decorate my place. Ever."

"I have a vision."

"I don't see your vision."

"You wouldn't. You don't have any taste."

Belinda gasped. "How dare you! I have taste. Yours is an acquired taste."

"Better than basic."

"Right, y'know what? Find someone else to help you decorate and unpack."

"Fine! It's not like you've been any use anyway."

Belinda narrowed her eyes at her sister, then stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her. Elaine stayed where she was, arms crossed, glaring in the door's direction. But then the guilt came, and she groaned. How far had her sister gotten? Would she accept a cupcake as an apology?

She grabbed her keys, checked she had her cards and yanked open her front door, only to see her sister there, fist raised to knock on the door. They stared at each other, neither speaking.

"Lilac's a shit colour, but if that's what you want, I'll help," said Belinda, then she slid her phone into her back pocket.

Elaine smiled. "Thank you."

Belinda shrugged, but Elaine could see a hint of a smile. "So, where do we start?"

"Coffee and cake." Belinda gave her an odd look. "Everyone knows you've gotta nourish yourself first, before you start."

"Well, if everyone knows that, then who am I to judge?"

"I bet they have the nicest local cafés around, with freshly baked cakes."

"Ugh, can't we just go to Costa or something?"

"No! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"With eating cakes?"

"Everything is an adventure if you try hard enough."

"You are the worst."

"Maybe, but you're stuck with me forever."

"I was doomed from the start."

"Hey, I'm the best thing that ever happened to you."

"More like you were there when I was born. I didn't get a say in the matter."

"Oh yeah? Think how I felt, when you intruded on my life with our parents. But hey, at least you know what it felt like with me when Justin was brought home."

"Oh god. Thank god he's not here."

"Not yet. He promised he'd come over later, to help me lift things and move them around."

"Oh god. You two together is just chaos combined."

"And you two together is argument central."

"He winds me up!"

"And you're such a treat?"

"That's different."

"Mm hm. You can tell me that over the coffee and cake you're buying me."

"I didn't agree to that!"

Elaine smiled, then laughed, unable to hold it in. "Alright, alright, we'll pay for our own things."

"Deal."

[laurawriteberry]

Cobalt Decade

The Cobalt Decade brought with it innovation and productivity.

New inventions created with new technology. New laws implemented for a fairer society. New properties for commercial and non commercials purposes, where people could live and thrive.

Only an idiot would question what a lasting impact this decade had on history.

But then, most weren't so lucky to see the benefits. Broken promises became the norm, alongside derelict buildings and non functional inventions that were once lauded as the solution for all their problems. Endless unemployment, starvation and brutal violence against protestors. Turning a blind eye to the suffering, willing the rocky beginning to benefit all, not just a few.

Perhaps those that benefitted from the corrupt system saw the Cobalt Decade as a defining chapter in history, as a fundamental foundation for what was to come, as a successful beginning that would lead to prosperity. But they lived in a cocoon, a blissful bubble, where all those who were important were with them. They'd fought and won. They'd achieved what others hadn't, couldn't. They were the leaders of a modern world, the decision makers and problem solvers. They would drive humanity forward while hoarding their wealth for themselves, only giving a fraction to everyone else. A pittance, really. But any money was better than no money, as people would find out. How could it get worse? they lamented in the Cobalt Decade, thinking their endless suffering would make way for something better.

Better never came.

By the time the people realised, it was too late. Too much had been taken by greed. Too much was fuelled by power hungry people. Only a handful were vicious enough to manipulate and charm their way to the top and remain there. The rest had fallen short, been sacrificed or lost out for one reason or another.

After the impactful Cobalt Decade, for better or for worse, came the Vermilion Decade, which proved equally as eventful. The people rose up, but met resistance. Wear them down, divide and conquer - anything to weaken them. They almost succeeded, had the people not started using their own tactics against them. The in fighting started, the accusations and stacks of evidence. The blood on their hands belonged to their fellow few, alongside the blood of the people they'd vowed to help. No more were they to be believed or praised or feared.

By the time the Vermilion Decade ended and yet another one arrived (the Coral Decade), the deficient technology worked in the people's favour. They were able to make use of all that had repressed them and forced them into a severe state of survival. They were able to make money again, to relinquish what power the few had snatched for themselves and handed it back.

Dictatorship fell, and anarchy thrived in its place. A lawless system that led to more riots, more deaths, more inequality, but at least everyone had a fair shot. A fair chance. They would rebuild a fairer society, one where all could benefit.

It remains to be seen what solution they, the people, decide on. But one thing's for sure, to live another day is not a luxury anyone can afford, and it's getting harder every day. What would you do to survive, and could you live with it?

[laurawriteberry]

Rose Gold Marble

As Abbi waited, she noted the rose gold marble and stone, and noted how it exuded a feminine luxury. A cold, lifeless luxury that felt more about status than a warm welcome into someone's home. She instinctly wanted to hug herself, to shield herself from the cold.

"Ms. Woods will see you now," said an assistant with a smile on her face, but with no warmth in her eyes.

She reluctantly followed the assistant into a room tucked away towards the back of the reception area. The assistant knocked once, announced Abbi's arrival, then gestured for her to enter, holding the door open. This time, when she smiled, a maliciousness was present, like she knew what was to come.

The door slammed shut behind her. She noted the traditional white marble and white stone now, somehow colder than the reception area. But the woman herself outshone everything and everyone, wearing a delicate, elegant gold dress. She rose a single eyebrow, gave her a once over, then proceeded to strut over to her pink chaise lounge sofa.

"I presume Rosie showed you in." She rolled her eyes. "She's rather useless, but I promised a friend of a friend I'd help. I'm planning on firing her soon."

In an instant, the infamous Ms Woods had been summed up. Every vicious rumour about her was true, and yet... what was underneath the cruel mistress? Abbi knew she was barking up a dead tree here, but she also knew when there was more to a person than met the eye.

"Why are you entertaining me?" Bold, blunt, direct - all things Ms Woods had proclaimed to be over her career.

"Well, aren't you bold?" She sniffed once, looking away. Almost as if the question itself had offended her. "Tell me, girl," her eyes met hers, direct and inquisitive, but cold and hungry, "what will you say about me? I've heard it all, so where do you fit in?"

Ms Woods expected a sales pitch, perhaps to determine where she'd fall. Desperate and pandering or cut throat and truthful. She was both those things and more, but why give herself away so soon?

"I want the true story of a woman in old age."

She scoffed. "Seventy is hardly old these days."

"On average, people die in their eighties. My previous remark stands."

She narrowed her eyes at Abbi. "You want to write me as a normal person?"

This time, it was Abbi who scoffed. "Please, there's nothing ordinary about you." Ms Woods perked up at the compliment. "But I've met plenty of extraordinary people, and they all did more than you." Her smile dropped, as did any half attempts at niceties. Good. She needed her to be true to herself. "I'm interested in people as they are, as they really are. No masks, no special treatment. You're an intriguing woman, and you must think something about me since you let me in and I'm still here, having a conversation with you."

"I let you in because you intrigue me. You see people in such a way where they are complex, and I'm curious enough to see whether you will do the same for me. Given how most, if not all, come to the same conclusion, I wonder if you'll do something else."

"We all have our stories, good and bad. Tell me yours."

"Oh, I plan to. Whether you leave with the same opinion of me, or even the same opinion as everyone else, now that I'm interested in."

For once, Abbi saw what drew everyone in with Ms Woods, that twinkle in her eye, promising more than she should, promising trouble and mischief, but equally, promising an unbelievable memory to pass on.

"Let's begin," said Abbi, feeling her heart flutter. Ms Woods smiled at her, both offering pain and pleasure to her. She only hoped the pay off would be worth it...

[laurawriteberry]

Positive Forest

Hazel meandered into the forest, her thoughts elsewhere. She inhaled the woodsy scent and felt her body relax, a smile spreading across her face. The forest was her favourite place to go and venture into, happily wandering down the various pathways created over time and seeing where others had deviated. There was something relaxing, calming almost, about hearing the birds cheep and only seeing trees for miles.

"Hazel, slow down!" whined Nick as he followed after her.

Hazel's smile froze, her eyes closing. She counted to five, to calm herself again, but it didn't fully work. She still anticipated his presence in her peaceful place, to appear next to her. By bringing him here, she'd naively thought it'd be great to share her happy place with her latest partner, but as they were walking here, she'd realised she'd made a mistake and now she couldn't take it back.

He caught up, took a sweeping look around, and smiled. "This is beautiful."

She paused, then looked at him. Maybe he hadn't lied about enjoying nature? But he'd complained the entire walk over, such as birds shitting on you or foxes lurking around. "What?"

"It's beautiful." He looked at her face and furrowed his eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. C'mon, let's-"

But he took her wrist in his before she could get away and lightly tugged. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" He gave her a look. "Well, it's just, you complained about getting your trainers muddy and about not being able to find a toilet and having no phone service while we were walking over that I thought you wouldn't actually enjoy it."

"All those things are true, but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy myself. I didn't even realise I complained that much. Sorry."

Hazel smiled. "No, it's fine." Was it though? Would this become a bigger issue at some point? Or was this one of those things she'd become indifferent towards? "I complain every time I go grocery shopping."

"In fairness, Mildred shoving her way into the queue and pretending she was a dithery old woman who didn't see it was definitely something worth complaining about."

"Right?! She definitely saw the queue!"

Nick smiled, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and steered her into the forest. "I'll be good from now on. Promise. Mr Positive is here."

She snorted. "Not too positive, or else I'll think you're a nut job."

"Wow, ouch. You think you know a person."

They laughed, the sound reverberating around the quiet environment. They wandered down the footpaths and climbed over fallen trees, weaving out of each other and enjoying the others company. As they went further in, Nick began asking silly questions or telling her silly anecdotes, and she returned the favour, feeling closer to him than she had before. Perhaps the forest was a safe space for him too, a place to open up and be honest with her.

Hazel hadn't been totally honest about their little trip, and as they'd meandered through, she'd been subtly leading them somewhere. As they approached, her body buzzed with excitement, and in her excitement, she grabbed his hand and ran through the last few trees to find a small pond with a few benches dotted around.

"It has a secret pond?" he asked, transfixed by what was arguably a small, murky looking pond, but she enjoyed the tranquility of it.

"It has a secret pond," she confirmed, a smile on her face.

"Wow, okay, this forest is officially the best forest ever."

She laughed. "You haven't seen the forest in my hometown."

"Not as good."

"How can you say that?"

"Cos this one is ours." He squeezed their interlinked hands together.