Challenge Taken: Sarahann’s Warning
Saturday’s Showcase Sketches:
Since I turned my attention to my family these past couple of weeks, I have not been able to write as effectively as I would have liked to. Today; however, I have had some ‘me time’ and a little story unwrapped itself –courtesy goes to the fabulous prompts of Ken Broad (AKA ‘The Magician’). To check out his rules (and also an interesting history on who Sarahann is) click here; Ken, you wanted an Octo”boo”er story fit for Halloween, I am hoping this meets the mark.
Sarahann’s Warning:
Something happened; it happened just before I reached here…
I can’t remember quite, what.
Something happened; a cold irksome feeling took a-hold of me; memories-a-haze, it failed me…
Glass, ice, stone?
My hands moulded, shaped-in quicksand-like; that’s what engulfed me.
Something happened; it took my life, my being, my soul, my heart.
It’s darkness…
“Enter” it said, it’s voice alluring –yet menacing; a trance I could not shake…
Now a sweet smile’s in my recollection, she smiled inviting, answering my thoughts as I asked.
She came with a warning, she said so herself… Sarahann was her name, her voice soft, her tales enchanting; she said not to…
A heed I did not take.
Something happened; it happened before I reached here…
I touched it –my hand fit, as the tales depicted -that voice still ringing in my ears.
Something happened; by that wall, in that shop; antiques-a-brimming, crammed in.
Sarahann’s voice piercing through the call “No! Do not listen to it, stay away!”
I could not stop, it sang to me; calling my name.
Something happened; that handprint in the wall –like the ones that scan your hands; this one made of stone…
It wrapped my hand with an icy glaze; it drank me through.
Something happened; it stole my life, my being, my heart, my soul.
It’s darkness tingles my skin; an obscure comfort fills me, it helps me to forget.
Something happened; it happened just before I reached here.
I can’t remember quite, what…
-
The word count for the inquisitive few is: 246 (quite impressive I know since Ken did not put down a word limit –I’m surprised how short it is).
This was a fun story to write, it flowed through like a poem to me, what do you make of it? Does the poem(ness) of it filter through as I felt it? Do you get a feel of what in essence is the haunted item and what it does? I’m eager to find out.
Copyright © Ozlem Yikici 2011 & Copyright © doodllz™ 2011. All Rights Reserved.
***
As you already know, thoughts and comments are encouraged as always -even if it is just a word -as ‘all good discussions start with just one word‘.
If there is a topic you would like me to look into and explore in my own yikici-kind-of-way then please feel free to leave a suggestion in the comment box below or for those of you who are a wee bit shy drop me a line via my contact page or email me at admin[at]yikici[dot]co[dot]uk
Care to join me for some collaborative work or want to be a guest blogger? If so, email me at the above address.









.png)

Beautiful and haunting prose! I love the poem-ness of it.