Tag Archives: loss

February 19, 2017

My Watcher by Nina D’Arcangela @WiHMonth @Sotet_Angyal #WiHM8

My Watcher

My watcher gazes upon me, great despair and longing seeping through her gently fluttering lashes. She lives a life of torment, a life filled with a depth of pain and depravity that rivals my own. Closer she wishes to draw, trying – always trying, but the measure of her success is a cruel and harsh one that denies, not grants, the wants of those like us. Unable to do more, she watches.

She watches as I sink ever further into the squalor that is my self-imposed exile, my place of preciously preserved pains, the darkest recesses of my mind where even I cannot find respite from my own deranged ramblings. Gasping for a breath that will never come, hope a thing lost to a moment that can never be regained, I will forever dwell in this chasm of nowhere. Capable of infusing life into me once more, yet unable to wade such a distance, she must simply watch as I succumb.

She watches as I prance about in this tattered garb, seeming to most a thing so giddy; a toy bright and shiny – all the while, inside… nothing but a fool. She sees my cracks, my flaws, all that makes me unworthy. She is witness to the tarnish that dulls my plating, the rust that flakes my surface, the debris that hinders my step. She gropes at the pile of destroyed dreams, hoping in vain to free me; the more she digs, the deeper the rubble becomes. She must watch as I succumb to what others have done, and what has become of me.

She watches as I shatter into innumerable shards, only to suffer my tears as I collect each delicate fragment to me; insistent upon rebuilding my ruined castle once more. Tears of acid crawl down my cheeks, the madness that accompanies them the crumbling of the world – my world – should they ever truly be unleashed. A steady stream of tangible harm inflicted by so many, each droplet a testament to the life I bear. Her desperate plea for me to hush heard only as an echo in my ear. Her arm stretched towards me, wanting so much to offer reprieve, is hindered by obstacles both beloved and unfair. She must watch as I succumb to what others have undone within me.

She watches as I flay open my own flesh for allowing moments of weakness, glimpses of joy, lies of happiness that happen in an instant, gone all too quickly. Brief encounters, an hour, perhaps two. Touching, loving, seeing, hearing; feeling – breathing; for the first time in so long, breathing. A small step that leads to a brighter existence, a false step placed upon undulating ground. A promise of the sweetest forever, but no promise ever made, a faith always held – a mourning that shall never end, my forever, my reality. This she must watch as I succumb not to what others have undone, but what I have done to destroy me.

Would I give so much more for even a lie of something less, if that lie was not this? With all the wasted remains of me, I would… But my watcher stands as guard. She will not allow one to crumble, for the other would fall, no longer even the loathsome wreckage that now exists. Scalding tears pour in a cascade of deafening silence from her eyes. She must always watch me from behind a glass wall that cannot be allowed to shatter for all that would be lost.

A pile of forever swept to the side so that the tendrils of this now never break for what should have been.

~ Nina D’Arcangela

© Copyright Nina D’Arcangela

Stop by my other blogs for more Women in Horror Month content!
Spreading the Writer’s Word – A new Horror Flash-Fiction from a different female author daily in February!
The Road to Nowhere – Horror movie picks by The Damned staring strong leading ladies daily all month long.

And don’t forget to visit the Women in Horror Month official web site
for more great WiHM8 events and posts!

11 Comments | tags: dark fiction, flash fiction, horror, loss, My Watcher, Nina D, Nina D'Arcangela, pain, suffering, WiHM8, Women in Horror Month, writing | posted in Dark Fiction, Flash Fiction, Horror, pain, Story, Women in Horror Month, Writing

March 22, 2015

I Know

By Nina D'Arcangela

I sit here alone, thoroughly abandoned, and deserving so. Awash in paralytic dread, I mourn what I have not yet lost, but know will soon be stolen from me. I yearn to believe hope is not dying, I long to hold it near, to cherish it dearly. I ache to know some degree of stability; struggle to somehow make it last, even for just a moment longer. But assigned the jester’s roll, I am yet again the patch, never the permanent fixture. Brilliant shimmering trinkets surround me, I see their shine, their gleam, yet I shield my eyes from the pain I know awaits if I gaze upon them. To feel what I have felt, to know what I have known, to watch it dissolve from a distance is a torture I cannot express. I batter my fists impudently against this unrelenting barrier, but again, I act the fool. I can only hide for so long. Reality slams against my senses, intrudes upon my torment, dares me call this solace. This damning truth insists that I allow the glimmer to dim, to see with wide eyes what would be shown to me, that which will be stolen from me. Yet still, for all the anguish, the tears, the pain that will not allow me to draw even a single quelling breath, I see beauty. I see only you.

12 Comments | tags: flash, I Know, loss, Nina D'Arcangela, pain | posted in Flash Fiction, loss, muse, pain, Writing

October 26, 2013

Coffin Hop 2013 ~ Burning

By Nina D'Arcangela

Burning

My hands cupped these devastated ears. I wished not to know, not to hear, not to be. The screams… No! I will not hear them. I hear only the patter of their small feet as they dashed through the hall, the oaken floors sounding their playful joy as they rushed to be the first to the finish. Time and again, I had asked them to mind their jostling. The gaslight at the top of the stairwell far too close to the draperies, yet they would not heed my warning; what small boy would – let alone two. Beautiful, cherubic faces framed in locks of golden curls. These were my children, my angels. All who saw them commented upon their beauty, their grace and their charm. Well mannered to a fault in public, how could I deny my darlings the simple love to race the second floor corridor of our home. The narrow confines, the striped paper upon the walls, the red velvet terminus all but beckoned them: ‘Come, play, be children of joy, race my length to see who would win first place.’

I believe this house to be evil; I believe it wished to steal the souls of my beautiful children. I believe it encouraged them to the joy they found only to trap them within the hell in which they perished.

Yes, perished; my dear, sweet ones. Taken in a fit of outlandish foolery, foolery that rang through the house in peels of gleeful laughter. Foolery that this house sought to use to turn the devil’s eye upon itself.

Seeing to the summer linens, I was storing them in the hope chest at the foot of my husband’s bed while I listened to their giggles drift from the hall. By the time the sound of their screams reached my ears, the velvet was fully engulfed in licking flames. My fear realized at last, the drapery had been set alight. I called to them, but Samuel, the older by just shy of half the hour, used his jacket in an attempt to extinguish the blaze. His younger sibling, Matthew, tugged upon the coverings in an attempt to dislodge them from their hangings. Before my foot could leave the floor, I watched as the heaviness of the fabric tore free and descended upon him.

My knees near buckled. Samuel — I could at least save Samuel from this fate. Then yet again, my eyes betrayed me as his arm tangled within the drape. In his panic to dislodge it, the poor child only spun the roaring fabric tighter about himself. One final look he offered me. A look of fear beyond my imagining as he toppled forward; the two tumbled down the wooden stairs tangled together in the burning shroud.

My heart stolen from my chest, the breath I was holding released in a fevered shriek as my impotent arm shot forward. I stood there, watching, waiting, hoping beyond all sanity that what I had just bore witness to had not transpired; though my destroyed mind assured me it had. I retreated backwards into the bedroom. I sought not refuge from the inferno raging at the end of the hall, but refuge from what my mind’s eye would show me over and over again. Finally, finding my back to the corner, I sunk to my skirts, as I prayed to God Almighty to return my darling sons to me.

As the coolness of the wall upon my back began to warm, and the plaster ran with cracks, my tears finally found their way to the flickering light. Again, I did not mourn for myself, I asked only to be granted the peace to no longer hear the screaming of angels.

Coffin Hop Goodies!

How do you get them? Comment on my Coffin Hop 2013 posts on this blog – I’m posting something new each day, so keep coming back for more chances to win. When will they be announced? When the hop ends (after October 31st). What are they going to be? A surprise! I like surprises, don’t you? ;}

Don’t forget to visit my other two blogs that are participating:
Spreading the Writer’s Word
The Road to Nowhere…

and the Sirens Call Publications blog:
The Sirens Song

plus the blog for the writing group I belong to:
Pen of the Damned

and all the other amazing hoppers on the Coffin Hop list!

31 Comments | tags: 2013, Burning, Coffin Hop, fiction, flash, give away, horror, loss, Nina D, Nina D'Arcangela, pain, twisted | posted in Coffin Hop 2013, Flash, Flash Fiction, Horror, muse, pain, twisted

April 15, 2013

The Morning After

By Nina D'Arcangela

(the continuation of Fjord)

The jarl descends to the water’s edge to await the triumphant return of his sons as he does each morning. This morning, as he approaches the icy depths, he spies their craft, though not in the manner in which he hopes.

Standing at the shoreline amidst the wreckage, he waits. It is not long before the wife of each man who boarded the vessel is standing beside him. Among the splintered wooden remains of the ship, treasures of gold and jewels manage to glisten in the cool morning mist.

He tells them not to mourn; those who set sail would have been victorious in battle for the vessel to have been laden with such riches. Viking women do not wail for their men who have been lost to the sea. When a youth reaches forward to pick up a trinket, the jarl’s booming voice echoes back from the walls of the narrow passageway.

“No!”

Turning to his people, he instructs that no one is to touch the plunder. The fjord will take what it will with the lapping tide; the rest remains as tribute to be called upon as the gods see fit.

That night, the jarl prays that his sons died well, and now sit in the halls among the warriors who have gone before them. They were good strong men, of this he is certain. What fate may have brought their ruined craft to this shore, he does not know; he knows only that the light of the following day will bring him the answer he seeks.

Upon waking, the jarl makes his way to the fjord’s rocky shore once again. What he finds sickens his heart. The wood of the wreckage has been claimed by the water, in its place, the flesh and bones of all but one man have been spit upon the shore and left to rot. His spirit rejoices that he is unable to find his eldest son, and crumbles when he sees the other among the mangled and broken corpses. He did not die a good death, this younger son.

A Sea-Eagle soars overhead, screeching out a final anguished cry before its soul joins the ranks of those who departed this world with courage and honor.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

4 Comments | tags: A to Z Challenge, death, fiction, Fjord, gods, jarl, loss, M, Nina D, Nina D'Arcangela, offering, The Morning After | posted in 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge, loss

April 10, 2013

I

By Nina D'Arcangela

I sit here alone, thoroughly abandoned, and deservingly so. Awash in paralytic dread, I mourn what I have not yet lost, but know will soon be stolen from me. I yearn to believe hope is not dying, I long to hold it near, to cherish it dearly. I ache to know some degree of stability; struggle to somehow make it last, even for just a moment longer. But assigned the jester’s roll, I am yet again the patch, never the permanent fixture. Brilliant shimmering trinkets surround me, I see their shine, their gleam, yet I shield my eyes from the pain I know awaits if I gaze upon them. To feel what I have felt, to know what I have know, to watch it dissolve from a distance is a torture I cannot express. I slam my fists impudently against this barbed barrier, but again, I act the fool. I can only hide for so long. Reality slams against my senses, intrudes upon my torment, dares me to call this solitude. This damning truth insists that I allow the glimmer to dim, to see with wide eyes what would be shown to me, that which will be stolen from me. Yet still, for all the anguish, the tears, the pain that will not allow me to draw even a single quelling breath, I see beauty. I see only you.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

6 Comments | tags: A to Z Challenge, alone, beauty, hope, hurt, I, loss, muse, Nina D, Nina D'Arcangela, pain | posted in 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge, muse, pain

April 8, 2013

Grave

By Nina D'Arcangela

I sit before your grave and mourn you, or perhaps I mourn for me. The light that was stolen from my life is unjust, leaving behind a harsh glare where once there was a gentle glow. I still feel your touch, your hand gently caressing my face as it slowly slides into my hair, cupping the back of my head. I feel my eyes flutter shut as you gently glide my lips toward yours. A final remembered glance of your amber tinted eyes as your deliciously long lashes flutter shut as well. My hand falls, not to rest on your soft, warm thigh, but upon this cold stone monument. Jarred from my revere, my tear moistened eyes open to see not your liquid eyes looking back, but the hard edifice that now entombs all that you were. If there had been one final moment, what would we have done; what would we have said; would you have allowed me to come with you? Is what was shared between us enough to carry me though another day in this world while you exist in another?

I sit before your grave and mourn you, or perhaps I mourn for me. The light that was stolen from my life is unjust, leaving behind a harsh glare that blinds me to all the beauty you once revealed. Perhaps I will lay my head down and rest with you one last time. The snow my cushion, my memories the only warmth I need on this cold, heartless night.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

12 Comments | tags: A to Z Challenge, fiction, flash, G, Grave, grief, longing, loss, love, muse, Nina D, Nina D'Arcangela, pain | posted in 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction, loss, pain

April 6, 2013

Fjord

By Nina D'Arcangela

“A-ha! There! Do you see it before us, brother? I told you the gods would see us safely home, was I not right?”

“Be at ease, young brother, we are not home yet. We’ve still to traverse her icy cold waters, and narrower passageways.”

“Bah, you’ve no faith, my brother! The gods would not have brought us this far to see us fail now. Perhaps the trickster, but not the hammer, he wishes to see us die in battle. Come, brother, do not tell me you fear drowning more than death by axe or cudgel? Smile, fate and life lay ahead, our journey nearly complete.” Pouring two horns of mead, he offers the fermented honey concoction to the man standing beside him. “Drink, celebrate with me; celebrate our return to this, our homeland!”

Glancing into the carved keratin vessel his younger brother has handed him, and back again to the high cliff walls of the fjord, he steps to the side of the boat and pours the mead into the waters below.

“Brother! You waste so much when we have so little left after this voyage? Why?”

“Do not question my actions, little brother. An offering to the gods is of far greater value than sating my thirst for celebration. I offer them this drink and ask that with it they grant us safe passage through these cliffs. Honor them as I do. Honor them or we shall all suffer. Heed my words, young brother, your youth blinds you.”

“Bah,” the younger man drains his horn into his gullet and tosses the hollowed carving overboard. “The gods have no use for sentimental offerings. They want us to live as men, as warriors, not as scared sheep!”

The sky now darkening, clouds swiftly rolling in. Their boat caught in the unsteady waters of the fjord, the younger man looks dubiously upward as the crew grumbles of bad omens. The older brother stares at the younger, resigned to what fate has cast upon them as the waters begin to froth and the wind picks up speed.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

32 Comments | tags: A to Z Challenge, brother, F, fiction, Fjord, flash, loss, Nina D, Nina D'Arcangela, ship, Viking | posted in 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction

April 1, 2013

Apathy

By Nina D'Arcangela

Sitting before you, watching your fluids drain slowly into the thirsty dirt below, I feel nothing. You twitch in pain; agony the mate of your very soul. Once you were all that mattered to me. Once you were the light in my sky, the air I breathed, the blood I bled; now you are nothing. To scoff is beyond me, I have not enough emotion in my chilled heart to bear you ill will. Your fall, the fall of all before my eyes, has left me nothing but a hollow shell. No echo of crashing waves, no wondrous Alabaster beauty, just jagged shards remain to rend and tear the soles of those unfortunate enough to tread where I now lie. Yes, a lie – one that stole my humanity and brought me to your side on this dark night, moonlight glinting off the dagger in my hand. Staring into your dazed eyes, indifference is all I feel. Apathy is all my abandoned faith will allow me to embrace as I watch the final breath expel from your body.

I’m doing the 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge! Pop back everyday but Sunday through the month of April for a new letter prompt to spawn my deranged ramblings! ;}

30 Comments | tags: A to Z Challenge, Apathy, April 1, death, flash fiction, lie, loss, Nina D, Nina D'Arcangela | posted in 2013 Blogging from A to Z Challenge, Flash, Flash Fiction

September 8, 2012

Decay

By Nina D'Arcangela

All things born must eventually die, withering in decay. What is the value of living if there is no risk of loss? What is the joy to be gathered from the most beautiful smile if it might never fade? What is the ecstasy of being if not eventually to be undone?

There is still beauty in decay. Pain to be clutched, tears to be licked, madness to be grasped and devoured. All things with breath must twist in torment, scream in agony and pain, heave a final sigh when crushed below the heel of perfection.

A blossom that has bloomed must wilt. Laughter heard on the breeze fades to silence. Brightness tarnishes with time.

Time kills all things of beauty, time and the beauty that exists within it. Destiny sees to its demise. One thing certain in this found life, time will see it trampled to ruin.

But time does not bear all the blame. For time will only do with it what you will. When that time has been shattered, there is only one other to thank, and I thank this other fully. Knowing her like no other, wishing not to know her at all, living this life in a decrepit box, who else could be to blame? Yes, I speak of me.

My choices all, made with only one regret – time. A vicious circle, this I know as well. Disbelief, shocking pain, trembling in fear – broken, always broken, never unbroken.

I am to blame for all that has decayed, all I have allowed to wither, all I have wished for that has wilted – the blossom trampled before its time. Time’s accomplice – truth; wielded as my weapon, held weak as my shield, ignorance in believing… but the believing of immeasurable worth, the cost: only yet one more piece torn away. I give it willingly; I cherish its meaning and cannot diminish its loss with regret.

Time I thought to lay the blame upon, but time was only doing its lot. I am all that is left to blame, so I thank myself for all that may have been lost.

12 Comments | tags: broken, decay, loss, pain | posted in loss, pain

May 6, 2012

Trust

By Nina D'Arcangela

I crouch cowering in the shadows of the barn. I should not be here. I was asked to stay away, yet I could not.

The unnatural sound of bones snapping, sinew tearing, and skin stretching is a thing so foreign that it rends my soul to shreds as I witness it, yet for all the breath left in me, I can not turn away from this creature I see.

I should have respected his wishes and not intruded upon his privacy – one that he has guarded so warily till this day. Trust is what I offered blindly for so long; now I see that my trust was both justly placed and unspeakably abused.

The depth of sorrow that emanates from the eyes that I have so often peered into is more than I can bear. I know now why he asked to own this anguish in solitude; I know now why he felt a need to protect me from the torture of his full nature; I know now the extent to which he wished to guard me.

He suffers more pain, my heart weeps. I reach out to touch him, he begs me to stay away with his agonizing gaze – so longing, so loving… so final.

Struck by a rising terror I’ve not felt before, my mind screams that he is no longer mine but belongs solely to the night. If only I had not violated our trust, we would have been as one forever.

Fully morphed he stands before me, yet I still see only him. He turns one final time – his eyes saying all his misshapen mouth is no longer capable of speaking.

A blink; he is gone.

Rushing forward I see all that remains of him torn and twisted upon a nail while I listen to his baleful cry carried upon the night’s harsh wind.