Son of 6 word story -- 6 (or less) lines of 6 words each

[Giovanna Clairval]

She comes in October. Soft steps
take her to the river bank,
and the last flowers are damp
in the wind of the West.

[Teresa Edgerton]

Beneath the old moon’s raddled face
Witches hold bacchanal, farmers are burying
The dead year in the fields
While cold scything October winds are
Harvesting the last of the grain

[Giovanna Clairval]

Today was a day of October
so warm and kind, like Summer

The sun was behaving like August
and now, stars, encircled by dust.

[Wiglaf]

Larcordan Village grew from a swamp.
Wooden shacks decayed on wobbly stilts.
From the muck, foul odors rose.
Rot permeated the stagnant air.
Yet bright flowers adorned every sill.
They availed not against the stench.

[Wiglaf]

Willam approached the bridge to town.
His steps on the wood echoed.
At the village's appearance, he smiled.
His smile drooped into a frown.
He could not forget his peril.

[Wiglaf]

A shadow hung over his head.
An unseen panther stalked behind him.
His breath hovered in the air.
The cold stung like fifty wasps.
Sweating despite the cold, he paused.
He saw something to his left.

[Wiglaf]

Something large moved in the distance.
It was roughly a pony's size.
The beast had coal black fur.
William recognized it as a hound.
Noiselessly it disappeared into the dark.

[Wiglaf]

With a pounding heart, he ran.
His lungs screamed in horrid agony.
He smacked into the first door.
Knocking him down, the door won.
Woozy, he stumbled to another door.
Would this one yield, or not?

[Wiglaf]

The door swung under his weigt.
He crashed headlong on the floor.
Looking up he saw a man.
With a start, the man stood.
He then walked over to William.

[Wiglaf]

A scarred face peered down questioningly.
Two gray eyes bored into William.
Then the gray haired man spoke.
"Pardon, I somehow missed your name."
After a pause, William stuttered, "Will."

[Teresa Edgerton]

Wow, I'm impressed by the length of what you've just given us, Wiglaf! And some of the lines are very fine indeed. But maybe another time you decide to post something of that length, you might give us all the verses in one message? Otherwise people could be discouraged from adding their own contributions, afraid they might break up the flow of your story.

[Talysia]

Soft, warms hands keep their hold
On my deeply sleeping, dreaming mind,
Maintaining a delicious slumber. What's that?
What racket seeks to wake me?
Sleep's almost magical grip instantly shatters,
Throwing me into this mundane wakefulness.

[Sephiroth]

I dreamt of blithely stabbing it,
The server that torments us so!
But if I severed it, then,
We'd have nowhere else to go!


Instead I cast my purpish mind,
Across La Manche, across the sea.
And calming, thought of better things,
And laid my head to sleep.

[Talysia]

Great doors open to reveal it:
The greatest library in the world.
All books, old and new, abound
Stacked on shelves, floor to ceiling.
What tales are contained within them?
I could spend an eternity there.

[Giovanna Clairval]

Originally Posted by Teresa Edgerton

A bauble made of glass contains
A perfect, tiny, unhatched world complete
With miniature tides, and infant mountains,
A shining dust-mote for the moon.
Exquisite as a jewel this world
If no one breaks the glass ...

(I love this one!)

Within that sphere, you did capture
the essence of a tiny life,
perfect in all details, and subdued,
safely secluded on a Barbie planet.