Hannanah looks hard in the mirror
As the cracked image fades with each shallowing breath.
No pain to this (well maybe a little)
Mourning for a self
Sucked dry by want.
Good riddance
To the Sysiphean chore of extracting love from a stone,
Each denial wrought by unattainable conditions.
She bites down, savoring the bitter herb.
Draped in scarlet and ebony,
The length of her leg,
Bone-white hip to shining silver toe-tip, is
Surprising,
Delicate still.
No cheap fishnets for her this time, she spins;
In silk stockings spun by starving spiders,
Hannanah becomes Halloween.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2024)
The challenge? Write a story in exactly 6 sentences based on Denise’s one word prompt: WEB. Visit, comment, and write & post your own on SIX SENTENCE STORIES. The Café is open. Come as you are!
Valley of the Trolls 
That last sentence is priceless!
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As the veil thins.
Thank you, Misky! 🎃🧙♀️
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Excellent, especially the final sentence!
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Thank you for your kind comment, Keith!
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“Hannah becomes Halloween” – great final line!
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Wow, I think I am running from… what, or whom?🕷️👻🧙♀️
Good one!
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Mwahahahaha!
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I liked this! Very timely!
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Thank you and 👻 booooo! 🐧
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Once away from the stone, everything gets better.
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Nice lines:
“Good riddance
To the Sysiphean chore of extracting love from a stone,”
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Thanks, Frank! Yes, the image of a mighty effort, repeated day after day, when the only return is to be flattened over and over, no progress. A curse indeed.
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This is very cool, Liz! ❤︎
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Thank you, Nancy! 💐
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Welcome, Liz! Buonanotte 😴
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😊
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