Open #writephoto

Thursday photo prompt

thresholds

 

She had received the invitation just two days before. She knew the place, it had a rather dark reputation. But then, one had to chose: the appeal of the dark side, or the fear of the unknown. This was an old house, surrounded by ancient trees. She was not surprised the entrance door was open. There was no sound, no sign of any presence.

The letter had just said the owner would welcome the opportunity to show her the property, as a prospective buyer. So she was. How he – but was it a “he”? – knew that, was a puzzle.

In front of her was a long corridor. Rays of light, it was early summer, pierced through the darkness. Old wood, old walls. The air was cool, a faint smell of decaying roses and beeswax…

When she heard the voice, she knew: it wasn’t a he, “she” was the owner. The witch of her childhood, the shadow of her dreams. The voice was sweet, sweet as poison, coercing her to enter, to walk the long corridor, to meet “her”.

She knew where she was waiting, she’d seen the scene many times in her dreams. The house was open, but there was no return. She had to meet her fate, the fire, the ecstasy, her slavery. As a little girl she had known: there was no escape.

Enchantment

Weekly Writing Prompt #100

tumblr_otylnygu321rv2dfko1_540

 

He found her story enchanting, and the way she was telling it to him a real treat. The fire in his mind was a mere flicker, for the predator within him had long given up: his life was now just about beauty, art, and good stories. So he would write, what he heard, and what had inspired him.

She, in turn, was playing with his mind, yet another victim of the wicked witch.

Picture: Fisherwoman, Odilon Redon, via fleurdulysfleurdulys.tumblr.com

Wicked (#5SF)

Wicked WytchYou smiled and said: “You should get yourself some new feet, yours are awful, just look at mine”.

And I looked at your elegant, well shaped foot and lovely toes, a fitting ornament to your o-so beautiful leg, and then, blushing, answered: “But I don’t know where to get those”.

O your wicked smile then, as you turn your lovely face towards me and, still smiling, asked: “Where did you get this lovely body, don’t you know?”

I was stunned, I did not know that either, my body had always been there, kind of I was born with it, wasn’t I?

“So, you said, even more wickedly, if you were ugly, you would not know how to change yourself?”