Long weekend here! Suffice it to say... high school and college starting and I'm not looking forward to it....
Since it's Monday... it must be time for....
Monday Morning Flash Fiction Challenge
This week's image is another one of Blodeuedd's... I'm seriously liking these images!
Love it! Kind of ghostly or it is just the sun shining? Use your imagination, and hope someone comes up with something great! Have fun!
The rules remain the same, somewhere around 350 words and come back Friday to post your response. (or be like me... I'm posting mine today! lol And I'm way freaking over the limit....)
Here's my response to last week's image... It's a retelling of a classic fairytale... tweaked and twisted.
The Queen and The Mirror
by: Dottie Taylor
word count: 800
“Mirror, Mirror on the wall.... who's the fairest of them all?” Queen LaTisha gazed upon her own reflection, craving all the beauty her eyes beheld.
“You are the fairest to behold, my queen,” the Mirror answered, “but another rivals you. She has youth, love, and joy. Her soul is pure, her heart bursting with happiness, her lips smile with innocence.” The Mirror shimmered as he spoke the truth. “You, my beautiful queen, have lost your pureness. You take what you desire, and you desire it all.” If he could have shivered, he would, for his queen was mad with treachery.
LaTisha frowned, then relaxed, smoothing away the fine lines. “Who is this creature that has capture your attention, my wondrous mirror?” When she spoke, it was with the soft seductiveness of silk. She ran her fingertips along the mirror's hard surface, ever so slightly heated. “Show me the one with the pureness of heart.”
“I dare not, my queen, I fear for her.” The Mirror gazed back with regret. Once upon a time, it had been not only his eyes, but his hands and lips that cherished her loveliness. Cursed into the mirror by the queen's fear of losing him, by the fear of losing her perfection. His cost for loving the queen.
LaTisha rose from the softness of her bed, swaying to the mirror, opening the doorway into the reflective surface and stepping inside. She could not abide any refusal. “My love,” she approached the gilded cage where her lover was bound with a pout, “give me that which I seek.” He could do nothing to help himself. His heart hammered as she advanced. Slowly, she entered his private space, shedding the layers of her lacy garments, releasing his binds, freeing his soul.
So long he had been contained, too long confined. He stretched his stiff muscles, but in doing, he was pricked by the poison of the queen's jealous love. He would never truly escape his pleasant prison, this he knew and accepted. Her love was a lie, he would remain her prisoner for all time. He was the queen's plaything, taken out and fondled, but put away for safe keeping.
He reclined back into the satin pillows and the queen sank down to join him. Hungrily, his lips found hers, groaning at the physical contact so long denied.
The queen weaved her wicked spell, trapping his thoughts as easily as his body. Her fingers greedily loosened his silk tunic. Never let it be said she was a cruel jailor, he wanted for little and was kept with the best of everything.
His hard chest sizzled with the brush of her wandering fingertips, a burning trail that continued below the waist of his loosened pantaloons. He moaned with the fire that blossomed from desire, he would do anything for his queen.
“The name, my lover, give me the name.” Again her lips claimed his, tongue probing, teeth nipping. Her kisses wandered lower, to find dusty tips, arousing his desire even further.
Panting, he realized he was lost. He would never be able to deny her anything. His eyes followed her lips as they traced the fine line that sank below the belt of his pantaloons.
“The name, all I want is the name.” She cajoled tantalizingly. “Then, I'll give you everything,” she brought her lips back to his, seizing them, “everything you want and more.” She whispered as her fingers caressed the hardness of his arousal.
He could no longer think, but his eyes implored her. He could no longer reason why he was holding back a name that meant so little to him, and his thoughts betrayed him. This was all he knew, all he wanted, and she was offering it to him, if only for a time. He was well and truly cursed.
He inhaled deeply, releasing a tremulous sigh, “Rosalinda, my queen, the one you seek is Rosalinda.” Her image appeared before the queen's dark gaze.
She smiled triumphantly, wickedly, then sweetly, bringing her lips to his in one last passionate kiss. She laughed, leaving him, imprisoned and alone.
“Rosalinda,” she thought, stepping away from the mirror. She called her guards. “Bring me Rosalinda.” Her image flashed upon the mirror's surface. “You'll know her by her beauty, her voice, her smile.” LaTisha said snidely, caressing each guard with her venomous poison, enchanting them, demanding to be obeyed. Her eyes smoldered, her lips curved enticingly. “Her heart is supposed to be pure, I think I should like to see it.” She flung her head back, releasing a throaty laugh, “I want Rosalinda and her heart. Whoever wins it,.... shares my bed.” She sauntered away, spiked heels clicking on the cold marble floor. She would not be denied.
Just a tad different from the original tale. I immediately thought Snow White when I saw this image.... with an eviler sexier twist...
Have a great week!