s-d-luna

[s-d-luna]

IF

The word that haunts us all

Putting regret in our heart

And wonder in our soul

If - I could only see

All the different possibilities

If - I could only go back,

And back and back again

If - I could only start over

Again and again - respawn

If - I always wonder with just

A little twinge of regret

If...

[s-d-luna]

SMOOTH

The words escaping your lips

Vibrating through the air

Echoing off the walls for all to hear

Your voice like velvet - softens them

But they still hurt

Like dying from a thousand cuts

[s-d-luna]

“Beneath the Roses"

I bury my secrets here,

In the meadow of fear

Deep in the soil - I am free from troubles coil

In their earthy embrace, they lie

Without view of the heavenly sky

I plant a rose above each one

A bloom to grace their silent slumber

Each petal a promise to keep them under

Beneath the roses roots corrode

Those secrets stay forever untold

[s-d-luna]

Written August 2018

[s-d-luna]

When you looked at me

The world dissapeared,

And when you looked away

It never came back

-S.D.Luna

[s-d-luna]

ANXIETY IS:

Having so much to say and never being able to say it...

-s.d.luna

[s-d-luna]

Like water paints on canvas

Mania and dysthymia blend to madness.

Soft and hard edges alike.

Mostly shades of black and white,

Blending greys, with hints of color

The hues of Summer

Yellows and reds

Swirling in their head

- S. D. Luna

Title: Hues of Summer

Inspired by Poetryriot prompt Blend Into Summer

[s-d-luna]

#Writer Problems

I want to write this world in my head. I need to create it. It begs for me to give it life but the overwhelming sense of also needing it to be perfect, good, magical, hinders me from ever finishing it...

[s-d-luna]

The seamstress had wondered into a shop she'd always passed by, for reasons unbeknownst to her, today it called to her. The shop had knick knacks here and weird art over there. The back wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves over stuffed with leather bound books. Gianna was glancing over the display shelf near the register when a spool of pearl color thread caught her eye. She wasn't sure why she needed it but she had to have it. "How much is that spool of thread," she asked. "10 dollars," replied the strangely looking man behind the counter. "10 dollars," she exclaimed, "why on earth so much?" "It was woven many years ago from a plant that no longer lives, it's one of a kind," he said with a subtle eerie tone. You could tell she was debating on the matter, her brow creased and she had mindlessly started fidgeting with the seem of her sleeve. "I suppose I'll take it, after all it is my birthday, I deserve to treat myself," she told the odd man. "You're birthday you say, and how old would that make you," he asked, genuinely curious. "The big 1-8," she said proudly. The man's face went weird for a moment, she couldn't quite place what it was specifically but it was almost inhuman. They stared at each other awkwardly in silence for a moment before exchanging money for the spool and with the exception of the register sounds and foot steps the silence continued until Gianna was pushing the door out. As the bells on the handle let out a sad little jiggle the man yelled, "Happy Birthday!" The door swung shut and Gianna went about her day as normal.

_______________________________________

Gianna was at home that night when she pulled the spool of thread from the little paper bag it had rested in all day. It wasn't enough to make any sort of garment but it was enough to stitch a pretty embroidery onto the neckline of a dress and she had just the one. It was the palest of blues with a tight waist, flared bottom and a sweetheart neckline. She set to work mapping out her design, she really only had one chance to get it right. She often would hum or whistle a tune while stitching, it helped her concentrate. It was always the same tune, unsure of where she heard it but just a tune she's always seemed to have known. She worked for hours into the night, she was tired but couldn't seem to stop stitching. She had an overwhelming feeling that she needed to finish.

______________________________________

Finally, she was finished. The pattern was intricate swirls and what looked like old runes. Those weren't apart of her original design and she wasn't really sure when she had added them but they seemed to belong. She was pleased with her work and as eager as she was to try it on she was more eager to sleep.

____________________________________

When the light seeped in through the window Gianna woke, reluctantly of course. She stretched and yawned inching her way out of bed until she saw the dress draped over her sewing chair and her excitement sprung her to life. She ran across the room, simultaneously slipping off her night shirt. She unzipped the dress, stepped into it and pulled it up, zipping herself into it. She glanced in the mirror and did a small twirl, happy with how it fit. The embroidery really did look amazing and as she ran her fingers across it she felt this surge of power flow through her body. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt and that's when she saw it, in the mirror, her eyes were purple! She stepped closer thinking it her imagination but they were still purple, and not just purple but almost luminescent. That is until she blinked. Her eyes were back to their normal hazel color. "Am I losing my mind," she wandered. She stood lost in thought when a loud buzzing creeped into her mind. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! "Ah I'm going to be late," she shouted to herself. She usually had two alarms set, one she could snooze once of twice and the second was an old fashion alarm clock deliberately plugged in across the room. She had no time to change out of the dress. She ran around the round the room looking for her shoes whilst pulling her hair back into a bun. Once her shoes were on, she was out the door for the day. And it only got stranger from there.

- @s-d-luna

A seamstress unknowingly buys a spool of thread from a witch’s shop. 

Diverse and interesting characters are key to a memorable story. Use these points as a base for your character and throw them into any plot you want.

[s-d-luna]

Music in the air

Reminders of past lives lived

Singing them loudly

-S.D. Luna (Songs of my past)

A Haiku inspired by @writerscreed prompt, Songs from your past.

[s-d-luna]

Trying to create religions and beliefs in a fantasy world has me saying "ughh" a lot.

[s-d-luna]

I believe, as a writer, that the stories we tell come to us from past lives from across the universe. Especially those that won't leave our heads. I believe that all stories are real, whether they be an alternate reality or a planet across the galaxies.

Do you believe?

-S.D. Luna (late night thoughts)

[s-d-luna]

Focus

I sit trying to catch you

But you - elude? - me

I read the words and numbers on the page

I hear the voice inside my head saying them,

- they don't stick

Like softened butter on a knife

- It just slides off

Even now, writing this

- I hear the tocks and ticks

- ticks and tocks?

Time is passing…

Focus! I need to focus…

- On the words and numbers on the page

I sit trying to catch you

But you elude me.

[s-d-luna]

Slide

You run eagerly towards the steps

Clumsily climbing them but also with grace

My soul fills with pride

You look at me with that smile on your face.

Giggling with excitement

As you take your place

At the top of the slide

I'm waiting at the bottom, just in case,

You wiggle forward, inch by inch

Until you're whooshing down at a thrilling pace.

You leap up and run

Eager to do it again.

- S.D. Luna

For my daughter.

[s-d-luna]

Search my blog for WIP to read other excerpts from the same story/world.

I lay in the purple grass as the wind sways it left and right. I can hear the Red Waterfall rushing over the rocks. I remember the first time I saw it, this eerie feeling swept over me. The water rushing over the edge, the color of crimson, I'd never seen such a sight. I had thought a massacre had occurred some where up stream but when I investigated, all I found were strange rocks at the opening of a small cave where the water spilled into the world. It was a beautiful sight, well worth the risk. Mother always told me to stay away from the Great River, it was a dangerous place where you'd surely run into men. I heeded her advise most of my youth but curiosity got the best of me. Mother thinks curiosity is dangerous. She always says Curiosity killed Alice. Once I asked her who Alice was and she said I don't know June Bug, a dead girl from the old world, it doesn't much matter, all you need to know is curiosity killed her.

[s-d-luna]

I write not for fun but for therapy

-S.D. Luna (2018)

[s-d-luna]

Recipe For Writing

1 cup despair

1 cup isolation

4 cups senseless thoughts

2 cups of love

3 cups of heart break

1/2 cup grammar

1/2 cup rhyming (optional)

Mix together in a creative mind, pour onto paper/keyboard. Let your ideas set and make others contemplate meaning of life.

-S.D. Luna

In response to @writerscreed challenge week #72