Deep Wishes

I feel invisible blows as fear and pain chemicals flood my place within my host’s brain. Her carer is destroying her, setting fire to her mind with every heartache, every forgotten promise, every silence, every lie.

I wish to protect her, to save her.

To survive.

Her carer’s mind was lost in the depths of its own flood long ago.

My host is an Earthen youngling, at her carer’s mercy, but I am neither.

As she sleeps, I break a vital rule and guide her body through the dwelling, to her carer’s room.

Here, I end my host’s nightmare.

© 2021 Rebecca Glaessner


This piece is a Point-of-View (POV) shift to previously written piece, The End.

March 11, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about deep wishes. Where is the deep — in the sky, the ground, or outer space? What kind of wishes reside there for whom and why? Go where the prompt leads!

Submissions now closed. Read the full collection here.

The End

Screams from inside forced the woman – visitor, friend – through to the master bedroom. She froze before the scene.

“No-” a child, face of horror, backed away from the bed, “I tried to stop…it wouldn’t- let me…”

On the bed, the child’s mother gasped for breath, “knew…I shouldn’t have-” she clutched her throat, blood spilling out over her silken bed-shirt, “have- kept you.”

“Please-” the child sobbed, tears streaming, “it made me…”

Something snapped inside the onlooker, she ran to embrace the child.

“I’ve got you,” she said, “I’ll never let her hurt you again.”

And the child breathed.

© 2021 Rebecca Glaessner


February 25 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the word frozen. It can be descriptive, character focused, action driven. Go out onto the ice and find a frozen story. Go where the prompt leads!

Submissions now closed. Read the full collection here.

So little time

He walked in the door. Little feet came running with tiny fingers reaching. Nudging aside a few toys strewn across his path, he made his way to the couch. Little feet followed, their voices tumbling over each other as they fought for his attention.
He picked up the oldest for cuddles as the littlest ran off. The littlest returned, struggling to drag him a rocking horse before pounding a tiny fist on his leg. He released the oldest despite protests and gathered up the littlest, mind whirling with tiny voices of complaint and excitement, eyes flicking back and forth.

© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner

Internal Monster

Her hands shook as new friends welcomed them inside. How would they take her? Life before her partner used to mean refusing these invites; too scared to take risks.
They sat together. She stared at her dinner. Everyone laughed at his jokes as he kept her safe from attention, helped her relax.
She started contributing, a word here, comment there.
“He always forgets things, he’s male,” she said smiling, glancing at him.
The light in his eyes faded.
Her stomach felt sick.
“But I do too,” she added, kissing him tenderly to fend off her hated negativities of old.

© 2015-2021 Rebecca Glaessner

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