"Anything else, dear?"

Sabrina politely refused Mrs Taylor's offer with that sweet smile that could only belong to her. It was that gracious giggle that made the young lady famous in town, even when she rarely appeared down here. Her house is somewhere near the woods, the young boys say. It was the sole thing her father left her with, says the older fellas in the armchairs. And yes, to have stories told about you can be exciting. But not always.

"Oh, and I could use a broom, Mrs Taylor. The old one leaves more dust than it sweeps."

And that was the moment when everything changed. Mrs Taylor, who had been busy totalling all the prices despite her poor mathematical skills, gazed up at her in shock. The young boy, fiddling around with the worn-out bicycle tires, stood still as his tires rolled down the stairs to the harbour. The senior gentleman, busy scanning the papers beside her, no longer cared about the headlines. Clearly, they just beheld the beginnings of the forthcoming big news in town.

Even as Sabrina left the store, no longer wearing her adorable smile, she could feel the stares. How can someone feel those eyes? She doesn't know, but those eyes pierced right through her skin. The broom stood projected out of her little jute basket, and no one hid their suspicions as she walked to the edge of the town. Sabrina could hear the faint whispers amidst the cacophonies of the busy street. And for some reason, she knew they were talking about her.

Sabrina walked a little faster, feeling a growing sense of uneasiness clawing about her insides. Unfortunately, this only adds to the suspicions of the piercing eyes. She could now hear their breath. Perhaps if the town was quieter, she could have listened to their heartbeats too. Soon enough, she could hear the footsteps following her in stealth, closing in for the day's prey.

And before Sabrina could restrain herself, her legs took off, attempting their best to carry their keeper to the safety of her home. The jute basket slipped off into the gutter, soaking her favourite cookies in the swamp. But she couldn't care any less.

Of course, the home could not keep her safe. But sometimes, it seems to be the solution to everything. Returning home. But in those nefarious eyes, it was no longer a home. It was a coven. And Sabrina, a witch. Their prey. The one to burn while they relax and watch.

********

"Burn her." There never was much Sabrina could do. Apparently, the young man, whose love she refused, had seen her cooking potions. Smoke billowing out of her little coven. And another little girl who had seen her in her nightmares. All she could do was beg, and she did. But the men took the decision for the Gods, and how could she prove them wrong?

The young man was smirking as she got carried away by the relentless guards. The little girl sneaked behind her mother, unwilling to listen to the pleads of a witch. One day, they might take her away too. She doesn't know. In the name of God, they say. How could one kill an innocent girl in the name of God?

She doesn't know, but as she felt the fire melting her skin, she realised it. Her father loved the legends of the lost kings and their declining realms. They perch helplessly on their thrones when the Wicked takes over. In the name of the King, they say. But the King would have long lost his hopes on bringing happiness back to his kingdom. He just shuts his eyes and says it's dark. Sabrina wouldn't blame him. There wasn't much he could do.

Even as the young lady could feel Life doing its best to hold on to her, she was perplexed. Who was more terrifying? The King or the Wicked?

########

I got a long explanation to make, haven't I? *innocent lauughter* Well, to start off, I am in college! As if that justifies everything XD Well, I messed up. I guess that's pretty evident when it's about me *facepalm* But yeah. Well, technically, life messed up way better than I did this time around, so I guess I did okay XD Anyway, I will try to come up more often from now on. And yes, this story will (from now on) hold the record of the fastest story I have ever written ^-^ It took me about... an hour? An hour and a half? Well, definitely not a week or longer, as it normally is XD I hope you guys like the story. Missed you all too much!!! Warm hugs everywhere ^0^ <3 <3 <3

#fiction, not the last part (:

We’ve got a long way to go

There’s a long road ahead

But we’ve got a whole box of wishes that are gonna come true

And I‘ve got a pocketful of stars

That I’m going to put back into your eyes

So that when you smile

You’ll out-shine Mr Moo_______n

There’s a battle ahead

And I’m gonna fight it with you

Remember all the things we said we’re gonna do?

And if you look down deep inside

That’s where Mr Courage hides

And when tears sting your eyes

He’ll come out for you_________

We’ve got a long way to go

There’s a long road ahead

But we’ve got a whole box of wishes that are gonna come true_____

Mommy, please don’t make me sit in that dark room

Please, don’t lock the door I promise I won’t scream

And, when you say you hate the thought of

Everything I’m part of

Mommy, who am I just like?

What do you mean?

Mother Nature, when you weep

Spring will soon be here

Winter’s on his deathbed

And very soon, he’ll sleep

When you dry your eyes

And blow away the dead leaves from your hair

Your smile brings sunny skies

And breathes life into the trees

You show your dis-pleasure in definite ways

No-one can escape your icy stare

When you’re angry, your dark eyes blaze

But you show your love in all the hot, summer days

Amber’s knees buckled and sank to the ground as she tried to take a step forward. She leaned ahead, in an attempt to get up, but her body felt heavy and she fell back on her knees.

“How long, Mama?” she asked, her voice weak, barely audible. Carrie pulled her arm, picking her up and steadying her back onto her legs without an answer. The world is never on a pause for the poor. A world devoid of love. But how could she explain it to the four year old? Little Betty lay on her shoulder, her tiny arms wrapped around her neck. Her baby eyes had a shade of beige, matching her little dress smeared with grime, made from a burlap sack. Amber wore the same, just a bit bigger. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes drained. Hungry and homeless. Starvation, the cruelest curse to be bestowed on mortal souls. The devil of the damned.

“Mama, where are we going?” Amber asked, her hands cupped on her calves, as if it could help lessen the pain. The ruffling winds waved the tree branches, as if welcoming the nocturnal ghosts that roamed in the darkest of nights. The sky was cloudy, pitch black, not a petty star on sight. Carrie shifted Betty to her other shoulder, brushing aside her tangled hair that battled with the furious wind. Her head was constantly turning left and right, trying to catch the sight of something. Just something.

The gale gave out a savage roar, as if it held the reins of a thousand monsters. Her fast feet came to a halt as the sound of a banging wooden plank caught her ears. Faded words of “For Sale” were marked on it as it hung, tied onto a doorknob, mutedly begging for new owners. For once, Carrie stood there, her eyes fixed on the jilted room built of grey-weathered logs. A saviour from the eerie night. Her face showed no emotion as she said without meeting their eyes, “Welcome home, kids.”

The old latch, probably rusted in time, crumbled to fine orange-brown dust as she worked on the knob. Her jaw tightened as she pushed the door gently inwards. It made a peculiar creaking noise, revealing a small room with ivory walls. Hairy crab-like spiders spun around the walls in circles, while some rested comfortably on their perfectly knitted beds of spidroin. There was a brown upholstered couch torn in pieces as if a clowder of cats scratched it from one end to another in a moment of utter rage. A pink curtain, worn out by age, loosely fluttered towards the direction of the wind. Behind the room was a three faced attachment of what seemed like a cubicle. A little room under a flat roof, with a cabin attached. A luxury.

Amber and Betty lay on the couch, running their hands on it's soft brown covers. Carrie used her right arm to brush off the spiderwebs, while the left rested under her nose, guarding her from the choking dust. Her bronze hair was messy and unkempt, but they didn't seem to bother her. Putting it up in a tight bun, she massaged her wrinkled brow with her fingers, hoping they would suppress the headache. Her eyes wandered curiously to study the little cubicle that stretched behind. The walls were decrepit with cracks running down to the grounds. Carrie traced the lines with her finger and rubbed off the dust with her thumb. In a flash, within the bat of an eye, loud screams from Amber and Betty echoed, forcing her to run back to the room instantly.

She dashed to the other side, stopping abruptly to find a gigantic rat sitting on the couch between the two girls. It stared at her for a moment, locking it's basalt eyes with her dark golden ones, then scurried tout de suite between her legs and out the room.

“Oh Mama!” cried Amber jumping out of the couch eventually, putting her arms around Carrie. Little Betty, though her legs failed to support her, crawled on her shapeless knees, trying in vain to get hold of her mother's dirt smudged hem.

“Mama’s here, Mama’s here,” she said, her arms girdled around their waists, holding them close, wrapping them in a tight hug. She patted Amber, drawing circles on her back. Should I really do this? She asked herself twice and the thought of it made her stomach churn. Her chapped lips pressed into a thin line as she slackened her clasp. Hunger began to gnaw her bones and her stomach rumbled like an angry wild dog.

“Where are you going, Mama?” Amber cried, clutching her mother's hand, their fragile fingers entwined. Carrie rubbed her tears with the back of her fist and kneeled down to her height.

“Mama will be right back,” she said, cupping her hands over Amber’s shoulders, “Promise.” She rubbed her little nose with her own forcing a smile on her face. A babbling Betty made sounds of demurral as Carrie made her way out of the room. Amber crouched and stared silently at the damp ivory walls. It looked as if the walls held a mysterious malady within. The air had a scent of decay. The place, a sick innuendo. She just didn't like it.

Carrie didn’t make the slightest of noises as she sidled cautiously near the corner of the cubicle. It sat scooched, fat and fubsy, it’s broad silken spine turned to her, nibbling onto some chunk of food. A short glance of it made it seem like a giant cotton ball of shining black. Oh, even Betty seemed dwarfed!

Carrie rolled up her sleeves and stuck out her tongue. Taking a step back, she ran forward on a wee sprint and vaulted straight on the rat. Her fingers slid through it's heaven-spun coat of fur, one hand struggling to shut it’s muzzle. The rat tried to free itself from her grasp, letting involuntary yelps, shuddering the girls next door.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Rat,” she muttered under her breath, “How about being our ratatouille?” Her hands worked on it’s neck, pressing it’s nose button against the ground, choking it to death. The rat squeaked, turning it’s body over and cocked it’s head, biting Carrie’s first three fingers. Her hands rose up to her face impulsively as she covered her mouth to stifle a shriek. Instantly, the rodent sprang to it’s feet and scampered adeptly into the hole that led to it’s mysterious world underneath. Sucking her bleeding fingers, she turned to catch it’s long pink stippled tail with her other hand, but the rat had escaped already. Her brow burned as she pulled a long deep breath, sending oxygen to her muscles. She rolled into a ball, her bony shoulders heaving as she sobbed silently, striking her forehead and cursing under her clenched teeth.

“Do you have any mercy at all?” she asked, her fingers twisted, staring at the tiled roof. Through the cracked glass skylight, she saw a tiny star rise up in the dreamy curls of the graphite black skies. Just a dainty dot, yet so lucent. The petty light it produced, unveiled the darkness near the hole where the rat had convulsed into. Carrie tilted her head, running her tongue on the cracks of her lips when something caught her eye.

A partly nibbled nugget of fresh cheese lay near it’s edge, shaking doubtfully, whether or not to fall into the hole. A small tear trickled down her sick purple socket and a leaden smile spread on her face as she inched forward to pick it up.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Rat,” she said, scratching her head, her eyes fixed upon the cheese nugget. Another star rose up near it. Another little dot. Another little glimmer. A glimmer of hope.

We squeezed round the table eight friends all from school

Four sat on dining chairs, four sat on stools

Our fingers all touching the glass in the middle

Instructions agreed, no one to fiddle

Ouija boards are not to be played

It’s serious stuff where contacts are made

Is anyone there we hear Paul say

The glass edges forwards and stops at the J

We all ask in unison does anyone know

The glass moves sideways and stops at the O

Alan breaks rank and runs for the door

The glass bangs the table, Alan falls to the floor

I’m stuck to the glass I hear someone say

The glass just ignores him and moves to the A

Someone starts crying with fear, it is Ben

Wind whistles past us as the glass stops at N

Ian’s dog starts to bark and gives one monstrous roar

As an old ladies photograph falls from the wall

We manage to escape leaving Ian alone

The last words he screamed – Please no Aunty Joan

- Alan’s death was recorded as death by natural causes.

- Ian remains on the police missing persons list to this day, they have never found his body!

©Julian Race 04/09/2021

Twitter @JulianRace1

Just because you illuminated the blue icon is a vain way of covering up the real issue or are you so far stuck up yourselves that there really isn't a glitch, you choose who get's the illumination. Say's it all for me and all the supporters that liked this post, you've shown yourselves up to be what you really are and what you really think of all Prose writers!

In reality, I do not think any new features should be added to Prose until the features they already have are de bugged and work as they should.

For example, although I have only been a member for about a year I notice that a number of winners of challenges do not always get the blue illumination tab depicting a win. It is not that someone else gets it, it is because there is a known glitch in the system which Prose are not in any hurry to fix.

If someone wins a challenge and the challenge setter states the win will be decided by the number of likes, this is when it happens and is not when the challenge setter chooses the winner!

This glitch does not happen on all challenges so you will see the blue tab but they are aware of the problem.

It is because of this glitch that I do not post any work here, I use another site that works to ensure the recognition is given to challenge winners.

Until enough people support and lobby Prose to remove the glitch, this will continue.

The blue tab is a motivational nudge to continue to improve as the writer is attracting the likes and re posts which enabled the writer to win the challenge.

You do not have to support this posting but at least you know there is a glitch that needs sorting out.

There once was a lady named Pat

Whose hat was made from a cat?

The dogs in the area

Saw nothing as scarier

As Pat with her cat as a hat

If you want to get ahead, get a hat!

©Julian Race 11/07/2021

42 likes, 25 re posts and read 325 times and did not win the challenge! The winner had 8 likes!

Ruvin shook his head and sighed. What was taking her so long to grab the next order? He had slammed his hand on the bell & even yelled: ‘‘Order up!’’

He poked his head out of the kitchen for a short while & scanned the room for Angeline. The voice of a slight shriek echoed in the air. That must be Angeline.

Ruvin wondered what she had ‘noticed’ this time. What could her instincts be informing her now?

He placed the order closer by the kitchen door on the serving table. The minute that Angeline walked through the door— Ruvin exclaimed: ‘‘Oy!- What is it this time? What’s got you spooked?’’

Angeline’s face seemed to look quite pale as if all the blood had been drained from her. Ruvin snapped his fingers.

‘‘Earth to Angeline~’’

She broke out of her panic mode and bowed her head: ‘‘I’m sorry for that, Ruvin. I just thought that...ah..never mind.’’

Ruvin furrowed his brows and hoped the waitress was alright. She was getting spooked easily this season. Maybe she was reading too many horror tales past midnight.

Angline quickly grabbed the order and proceeded to march out of the kitchen. She continued to head toward Table 13.

She stopped for a slight moment as though she was in a trance. Then she blinked her eyes and carried on toward Table 13.

Once she was close to Table 13, she carefully and slowly placed the order before the customer.

He had a pair of sunglasses on, a hat on the top of his head, & he also wore a pair of scarlet gloves.

He lifted the metal cover over the dish. And said, ‘‘Oh my— The Chef’s outdone himself this time.’’

There on his plate was served a plate of a still beating heart. A bowl was served, too.

When the customer placed a spoon into the bowl, a pair of green eyes bobbled from the bottom of the soup & onto the top of the lava looking soup. The soup seemed to be still boiling in the bowl.

Angline gulped and tried to say: ‘‘Enjoy your meal.’’ But she was in shock, filled with fright at the sight of Table 13’s order.

The customer had only said, ‘‘I’ll take the order to dine in from the Chef’s after midnight menu.’’

Angline felt her heart racing inside her chest. What in the world was Ruvin serving his customers?

Was that a bowl of soup filled with human eyes?? And a plate of a beating heart?

She rushed to the bathroom— something was not right. Angeline placed a hand over her mouth. The pasta she had not too long ago was making its way back up her throat.

When the lights of the bathroom flickered, Angeline tried to scream. Something had swooped behind her in a nanosecond & covered her mouth.

In the mirror she looked in horror as the only thing she saw was her reflection- and the sight of a pair of sunglasses, a hat— and a pair of scarlet gloves also reflected in the mirror. But no reflection of another human being.

She flinched at the feeling of a bite on her neck. As she tried to escape from the strange being’s hold, she’s knocked the glasses off the being’s face.

Angline’s mouth opened in surprise. This face was that of...who..she tried to remember.

The second her body hit the floor, she realized who this being was...it was the Prince..

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=jecQcgbyetw

#ThePrince 04/07/2021.

When I first saw “The Danish Girl” in 2015, as I suspected, it did not disappoint in the least. Its portrayal of the first transgender reassignment surgery in the year of 1930 of Einer Wegener, who became Lili Elbe after the surgery, and was also a famous Danish painter, was both moving and beautiful. This was one of the best and memorable movies I’ve ever seen and lives up to the ranks of “The Reader”, “Schlinder’s List”, and “Atonement” to name a few. It’s storyline had the same type of profound impact on me that those aforementioned movies did, and I cannot begin to say enough about Eddie Redmayne’s character portrayal of Lili Elbe. As always, he is an absolutely phenomenal character actor, and in this particular instance, he outdid himself. It was no small wonder that he did win the Oscar for his portrayal of the main character. Its Director, Tom Hooper, sensitively and wonderfully handled a difficult subject matter while envoking the most moving performances from each of his actors. No matter what your opinion is or your stand on transgender individuals and sex reassignment surgery may be, this movie speaks volumes to us on a much greater plane about so much more, including love, tolerance, and acceptance. However, the movie does give us an informative view on the aforementioned subject matters as well, providing valuable and eye opening informaton. “The Danish Girl” makes an enormous impact and statement about the profundity of enduring and unconditional love, as well as perseverance and courage in the face of adversity. Not only does it make an impact in these ways, its cast, direction, screenplay, costume design, and cinematography make it collectively one of the best of its time. If you see “The Danish Girl”, I don’t think you will be sorry.