Comments on: Write a Fairytale Set Here – Writespiration #96

By: Writespiration #100 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 4 – Sacha Black

Writespiration #100 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 4 – Sacha Black — Wed, 25 Jan 2017 08:01:07 +0000

[…] discovered a prompt from a while back, the fairy tale prompt so I thought I’d include his entry […]

By: Sacha Black

Sacha Black — Fri, 20 Jan 2017 09:51:29 +0000

lol, this was brilliant, the ending cracked me up – I will publish this with next week’s entries (although we’re now on a different kind of prompt) but I love it, so I’ll publish it anyway 😀

By: Christian McCulloch

Christian McCulloch — Thu, 19 Jan 2017 14:58:54 +0000

Sorry I’m late with the Fairytale story… here it is an I hope you will enjoy it.
Regards
Christian.

Let’s get one thing straight right from the start. A fairy does NOT die every time someone says they don’t believe in us. Shame on you for telling your little ones such a thing – on the other hand, it does afford us folk a certain anonymity which is much appreciated.
My name is Bog and I have a fairy tail. Yes, you heard correctly. I have a tail! And before you say that I cannot be a fairy with a name like Bog, I’ll have you know that there has been a Bog in our family since records began. I’ll bet that if you look hard enough, you too will have a Bog in yours.
As for the tail… well, that was a bit of a shock I have to admit. I discovered I had one on my birthday; small, mind you, but none the less it had the makings of something quite fine. I would sit for hours wondering if it would mature into a long, thin whip-like attachment, a stubby little Boxer style or a fine brush to be compared with a vixen. Secretly, I hoped it would be the latter. I dreaded the thought that mine might become like a sow’s – that would be a bore!
I am now fully grown and the tail has developed in keeping with my growth.
First and foremost, I am a lady fairy and as such do not have to disclose my age or other intimate facts about myself. So if you are curious about a fairy tail, may I suggest you grow your own. Mine is most private; a secret that I only share with Mr Bog.

By: Writespiration Round Up 2016 | Sacha Black

Writespiration Round Up 2016 | Sacha Black — Wed, 02 Nov 2016 08:00:44 +0000

[…] For now, to round of the year, here are your entries from writespiration 96 – Write a Fairytale set here. […]

By: Sacha Black

Sacha Black — Mon, 31 Oct 2016 10:35:59 +0000

In reply to guppibubble. thank you so much :D :D and it was gritty and I loved it. I hope you join in again :D

By: guppibubble

guppibubble — Sat, 29 Oct 2016 14:37:47 +0000

In reply to Sacha Black.

Thanks! I’m glad you enjoyed it. A bit gritty but your ideas about villains got me to thinking about the ones that are not so clear cut? It’s an idea that appeals because I like to develop multi-dimensional characters. Hard going in flash fiction.
Look forward to reading your book!

By: Sacha Black

Sacha Black — Fri, 28 Oct 2016 13:02:39 +0000

In reply to Charise. wowza, what a powerful piece. So visual and I was gripped. Thank you so much for entering.

By: Sacha Black

Sacha Black — Fri, 28 Oct 2016 12:54:50 +0000

In reply to Wanda Luthman.

Thank you so much for entering – I saw this over at Ritu’s place too. 😀 😀

By: Charise

Charise — Sun, 23 Oct 2016 20:17:54 +0000

Pink princess, lost in the dark woods of your own mind.
No animals to sing to you or even moonlight to kiss your face, as you despair at the state of your orange jumpsuit, the one that hardly conceals the shy squirrel on your wrist.
Your first tattoo, at aged 15, how you had sat still, defying the tattooist to do his worst.
To hurt you more than life itself; that had birthed you, beat you, raped you and tossed you to the street dogs.
Prince charming? More like Pierced charming. With his long Goth hair, his spiked collar-he was basically begging to be tamed.
So you twirled those pink locks, flicked those mascara-ladened lashes, soon the spell was cast and he was yours.
After closing, in neon-drenched alleyways, he became your first.
The first time you thrilled from the feel of the smooth glass bottle, smashed by someone else’s hand, as he groped at the top, barely clinging to those budding breasts.
The way it resisted, but not too much, as it found its purchase in his neck.
You kissed him, as he lay there dying, but you couldn’t save him. Maybe he wasn’t the right prince after all?

By: Jane Dougherty

Jane Dougherty — Mon, 17 Oct 2016 20:28:09 +0000

Here you go. Over the limit but not by too much.
https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/10/17/the-wild-princess/