Imago of Death – Second Writing Campaign Challenge

The second campaign challenge is here and it looks more challenging than the first, which is good – I think. I had to stretch my writing muscles for this one.

My entry follows the rules you can scroll down if you aren’t participating, know the challenge, or you just want to get to the writing.

 

The Challenge is: Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc.

The blog post should:

include the word “imago” in the title

include the following 4 random words: “miasma,” “lacuna,” “oscitate,” “synchronicity,”

 

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post.

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY!

Imago Of Death

The dead crawled out from the lacuna that opened from the synchronicity of breaking the mirrors. I told the others not to break them,  it felt wrong. They listened to the elders instead of the seers. Afraid of doing something different, now we’re all screwed.

When those dead things oscitate, the miasma that spews out of their gaping maws choke the life energy from everything it touches. Those green tendrils seek out life and I’m not staying here to watch it happen.

There is a door to another realm. I saw the updates about it, couldn’t miss the trending on twitter about that door. The reports said it’s a mirror in the middle of Harken Lake. I normally don’t go for diving into deep, unknown water but tonight I’m making an exception.

Legs are aching from running; lungs feeling like there isn’t enough clean air left to breathe. I can see the lake shimmering in the moonlight. I’m going to make it. The sign says one hundred feet to the lake. But what is that gathering on the shoreline?

No! How did they get here so fast?  I can’t make it. I take a deep breath and succumb to death.

If you like it you can always vote for me. I’m number 131.  🙂 And if you participated in the challenge leave a link with your comment so I can read yours too. 🙂

Definitions: 

Miasma – Vaporous exhalation that was thought to cause disease.

Oscitate – To gape or yawn.

Lacuna – Blank space or missing part.

Synchronicity – Coincidental occurring of events.

Imago – Idealized image of another person or self.

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Bloodstained

Decided to do something a little different today. This is the beginning of a short story. This is what came to me as I was attempting to clean a stain out of my living room carpet. The real stain is just juice.

Bloodstained

In order to get rid of the bloodstain, I had to replace the entire carpet. No amount of cleanser effectively erased the damn thing. He wouldn’t stop and now he’s dead. Funny that getting rid of his body was easier than getting rid of the stain he left on my carpet and in my life.

Maybe having the hardwood floors naked and shining won’t be so bad. It’s just that I don’t know how much work the floors need. This carpet has been here for the last fifteen years. Years of dirt, mud, animal stuff, food, spilled drinks and various cleaners to get out the aforementioned offenders, have piled up on the overworked floor fibers. May as well get to work pulling up the old shag.

I suppose I should burn the carpet pieces, seems best. That way there will be nothing left of him. Well except for the memories, I’ll always those things tramping about in my brain. No effective cleanser for those either. I’ve tried many things without success. Maybe this is a first step. Since he’ll no longer have a physical presence, then perhaps I can somehow release the shadows draping my mind.

I have to start living again sometime. I deserve as much. He stole so many years from me, just as he stole me from my family and life. He had no right to do that, no right to do any of this to me. He never told me why. And I didn’t ask. I didn’t really care for his whys or actions. I feel like I can almost breathe again. Tomorrow will be the first day without him in fifty years.

 

What normal everyday thing has inspired you to write?