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Devil’s Lair…A 100 Word Story

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Devil’s Lair   

Patches of snow lingered on the ground as Katherine walked the narrow path through the woods.  The warmth welcomed, as winter had been so long, her husband walked behind her it had been months and she was not allowed out of the cabin.  His abuse never stopped, Katherine found herself a prisoner dropped in the middle of a forest; when he pushed her off the cliff at the end of the path she closed her eyes and welcome what was to come.  At the bottom of the cliff lay other women who thought that Cecil Cobb was a great catch.

 

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 
 

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Choices – A 100 Word Story

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Choices

A roar of thunder melds with a coming storm, Tom Thornton’s heart is stone; he knows that because he feels nothing.  His wife’s veins once flowed with a passionate fire; now the crimson liquid spread across the floor.  Doors locked, a decision had to be made and quickly.  His life also ended when he would not let Sarah leave.  His heart will never soften; he will never feel the heat of Sarah’s fire again.  The police and ambulance sirens filter into the house.  He sat on the bed asking, “God, will I go to Heaven if I choose to die”?

 

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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#9391…A 100 Word Story

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#9391

It was July 1915 and Annabelle stared out the window.  Beyond the bars lay the tombstones covered with dead leaves and vine, each inscribes with nothing but a number; the records might have given the names of those beneath the red southern soil.

She knew that there were no tomorrows.  A marriage of happiness ended with a disobedient act against her husband.  It was his right to put her in an asylum for the insane and the disobedient.  Yesterday’s promises were over; the “Consumption” as they called it would soon take her life.  The small 12X12 stone would read “#9391”.

 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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Revenge – A 100 Word Story

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Revenge

Doctors looked down at the young girl in her drugged sleep; her pillow wet with tears shed before the medicine took effect placing her in a coma.  Her face innocence even though she had lived a nightmare: she would sleep until her broken body and mind could heal.  Her attacker had taken her for self-indulgence and  pleasure.  Andrew “Stubby” Bodine’s type was always on the prowl; always taking from others; especially young girls.  He did see the angry mob coming in their flatboats. Mary Jane Ayres would heal while her abductor hangs from a Swamp Oak in Louisiana’s Atchafalaya Swamp. 

©2016.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

 

 

RUTTED ROADBookCoverImage

Ann Johnson-Murphree

Amazon.com

 

 

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RUTTED ROADS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE

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Rutted Roads available at Amazon.com click on the purchase books tab at the top of the site to order.

Thank you for following this blog and the interest in my poetry.   eajm

 
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Posted by on May 4, 2016 in Book Promotion

 

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Trankil Death – A 100 Word Story

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Trankil Death

At dawn, Ruby Waters life light went out, in the dark her children cried; a candle glowed against the rustic rough boards of the shanty shadowing the souls left behind.  Laid to rest quickly in the Louisiana heat; the moon cast a glow on her shallow grave.  The children’s tears burn hot upon their dirt-streaked faces as relatives who heard the shots took them away.  Drunken Gat Waters had shot his emancipated wife because she was pregnant again then yelled, “Now dat’ are two less mouths to feed”.  They were swamp folk no one outside Bayou Gauche would ever know.

 

 

©2016.trankildeath.annjohnsonmurphree
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COMING SOON…

RUTTED ROADBookCoverImage

Dedicated to my daughter Charlotte Jean Murphree

1958 – 2010

The Voice 

From me you shall hear

Trampling of insistent voices of those

Whispering in my ear. They

Are fierce, burning with passion, their

Messages clear.

They speak to me with the force of a

Turbulent sea, other times with the

Surge of the tide, and always with

Respect; within me, they reside.

Ann Johnson-Murphree

I will not say that this is my final book of poetry; however, it will be the last until I have pursued my other interest in writing personal and fiction.  I have been on a journey; it has taken me from depths of a bottomless abyss, the path I walked was jagged and brutal both mentally and physically.  The trip is documented in my poetry, it came from deep within my soul and my spirit survived.  The healing continues, an ongoing process that will never end; but today, I can breathe.  I have held my breath too long as I walked these rutted roads; and must now set out on a new path.  I have chosen to begin a new “Story”.

I will continue to blog daily with my own work or reblog in support of my wonderful loyal followers.   I will post when Rutted Roads is published.  

 
 

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