Photo credit: marko from morguefile.com
Lisa's eyes reflected the glow from the sandy bed, too long ago to be called a river. Pale like moon soil and powdered moth wings. A cloud of dust erupted on the horizon, swirling around six blue lights, splitting apart, two to a being, until they drew near and I could see they were headlights. Three of them, with respective specters behind their windscreens, bony knuckles ridged and accusatory.
They circled us like vultures—tighter and tighter—in spirals of questionable intent. Glowing eyes; burning lights that felt like acid on the skin. There were two, one fat-fendered with the suggestion of green flames, that writhed and licked above the slick rubber that churned beneath like angry hooves. The second, a black Mustang, the lights bleeding to urine-yellow at a certain angle. The driver pressed his skull against the glass and grinned as the draft made her skirt fly up around her legs.
The third was almost reptilian in appearance, long and low, inky-black scaled flesh glinting violet in the light around them, gasping gills in its sides snorting blue fire and in the driver's seat—
An arc of spirits in a close vortex, blotting out the moon and choking our lungs with silt from the dead riverbed. Whispered pleasures, treasures, and torment and the third stopped, tires pouring out of slim wheel wells like viscous oil, clutching the hard packed earth as the dust settled and I was looking into the face of Death itself.
I let out a breath; Lisa shook me, clutching an armful of firewood. I opened my eyes and lifted my head to look at her.
“You have to stay awake to see them,” she chided. I rolled over on my side and smiled.
She was wrong.
I love the sense of foreboding in this, like a knife waved in someone's face.
What a dream. Magnificent language and imagery throughout, which again makes it impossible to pick a favorite. :)
I like to re-read your flashes several times, just to soak in the full depth of your descriptions.
You know me well enough by now to know this isn't empty flattery when I say I feel lucky that you share with us the way you see the world.
Just lovely use of language throughout. I especially like, "Whispered pleasures, treasures, and torment and the third stopped, tires pouring out of slim wheel wells like viscous oil, clutching the hard packed earth as the dust settled and I was looking into the face of Death itself."
I don't see foreboding at all, a dream like quality and the beauty of sleep..layered, full of texture and glowing, well done
Fabulous stuff, Carrie - the language and imagery is all you. I particularly loved the last sentences. Great ending.
Mythical women come in 3s, Fates, Furies& virgin, mother, crone. Death also comes in 3s.
I've noticed that cars form a big part of your writing in recent weeks. Don't know if that's significant?
This is just a pleasure to read. Thank you so much. Always enjoy stopping by.
Makes me want to drag out my dream interpretation book and figure all this out! Lots of lush imagery, the cars especially circling around, the powdered moth wings, bony knuckles ridged and accusatory.
Three itself so ripe with meaning. Brava. Peace...
My mind went straight to the four horseman of the apocalypse. I had to read it again. Loved the surreal feel of this and I agree with Tony, there is a sense of foreboding. Great stuff.
Cryptic and haunting. The description are very strong, like the moth wings.
When your mind works like that you don't have to keep your eyes open to see anything.
Wonderful dreamlike imagery. I'm uncertain what half of it should mean, and it doesn't matter. This is like a song, and it's damn nice to read.
-David G Shrock
Beautifully written Carrie. It carries of sense of beautiful doom throughout.
You are a master of description. It's almost like fiction poetry if that makes any sense.
Anyways... the story is suberb and the last line brings it all together.
Beautiful (and terrifying) description throughout. Really brings this dreamlike piece into focus. Enjoyed this a TON.
So dark and filled with dread, yet so beautiful. I always feel like the power went out just as I was getting into a good movie when your flash pieces end. More please.
I think you're the only one I know that can give cars such awesome personalities that they are living spirits in their own right. Loved the language in this!
Had to read this again. Love that Mustang and grinning skull in the window. So many delicious descriptions.
Good use of language; some nice turns of phrase here.
"Pale like moon soil and powdered moth wings." LOVE that description Carrie, how poetic it is, the whole story in fact.
Thank you for sharing your incredible talent with us.
I found this quite chilling to read. Fantastic descriptions in there, made it all seem terrifyingly real!
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