she’s #elastic she’s got a horse part made out of plastic she uses it in ways quite gymnastic 'cos she ain't no nun she’s got a mister and God only knows where he's kissed her but on the palm of his hand is a blister 'cos he don't get none #vss365

#pulp: cotton stripped made wet beaten into sheets bound used for shameful stories #vss365

each fleeting moment became its own contingency, an urgent #oasis offering opportunities to flourish and we drank #vss365

the past seen through a glass darkly masked by a whisky #blur whatever hope seemed sparse was only wish deferred #vss365

I suppose my reluctance to write for #vss365 might spring from anxiety about exposing my tract to #scrutiny. I know it's natural for them all to be different, but I'm worried that people will think mine is weird.

I haven't managed to write a story for the last three #vss365 prompts. Could this be the day I succeed? #Perhaps.

Remember, not coming up with a #vss365 story every day isn't a #catastrophe, because a catastrophe is a feline punctuation mark which indicates possession (of everything).

Error #19925: Story #extrusion has been halted due to congealed reality in the mixing zone. Clear the blockage, and try roll forming before re-engaging. #vss365

Due to a recent surge in peculiarity, words are temporarily out of #stock. We apologise for any inconceivable. #vss365

Her self became a #synthesis of steel and scars and shame, skin and soul sliced into scarlet streamers. She stopped flinching, and embraced the blade. #vss365

Steel and skin #conspire to steal her soul, drop by drop, and she considers it a fair trade for a fleeting moment's peace of mind. #vss365

Pain and blood became the #reins on her life; they couldn't change its direction, but for a while they could slow it down, and if she held on tight to them they gave her a sense of control. #vss365

She remembers feeling shame the first time, and #flinching because she expected pain and blood. She got both, but together they gave her an unfamiliar sense of control. The cold blade—the creator of constellations—became her only friend. #vss365

Skin with its own constellations of scars suits her #style; no one needs to see them, any more than they need to see her. #vss365

Every unmarked inch of skin holds the #potential of hope, of peace, of power. But not of rebirth. Only a few choice inches offer that. #vss365

She is #exhausted, but her skin isn't. And where there's blood, there's power. Not enough power for rebirth, not enough to elude her past, but every drop is a doorway out of her conscious mind and a chance to imagine real power. #vss365

Constellations don't give her hope, not really, but they do make despair #bearable, whether it's imaginary ones she draws in the sky or real ones etched into her skin. It's not the stars that count, but the lines between. #vss365

Rebirth is beyond her because life was an unwanted gift, a gift that can't be returned now because the #wrapper is marked. The only power she has now is to keep marking that wrapper, creating her own constellation of scars. #vss365

If she only had the #power, she'd… she doesn't know. She spends a lot time thinking about power lately: who has it, how arbitrary it is, why it eludes her no matter how much she yearns for it, but never what she'd do if she had it. Some things are too dark, even for her. #vss365

Rebirth would be a #doorway in the long, featureless corridor stretching ahead of her, a chance to turn away from her past and elude her future. #vss365

In the past she thought church stole her #chance, but lately she thinks she never had one to take. Some folk were born under a lucky constellation, and some under a falling star, that's all; luck eluding her was an arbitrary choice of. a universe which hates her. #vss365

She read an #article once about how Oizys, the goddess of misery, spent her Sundays: there were curses, and blood, but no church. #vss365

Sleep eludes her, her mind too #conscious of her constellation of faults: each failure a white-hot star scarring her memory. There could draw a thousand lines between them; imagine a thousand shapes, and they would all be called Oizys. #vss365

She knows constellations are only #arbitrary lines between distant points of light. But her whole life feels like an arbitrary line, drawn before she was born, and all she can do is fall through its stars, one by one. She wonders what picture she'll make, and who'll see it. #vss365

Hope #eludes her, fading like night in the shining city. Streetlights scare the darkness out of the sky, bringing it down to fill her head. She would sleep, but lately that eludes her too, so she'll count stars. One, two. It's not enough. #vss365

She knows rebirth can't erase her #past — even Persephone had to go home — but she yearns to shine, to take her place between Alkaios and Oneiros as part of the constellation of Hope. #vss365

She #yearns for rebirth like comets yearn for the embrace of a star, like the cold expanse of space yearns for matter. Any three points form a triangle, but if one flies away there is no constellation, only a straight line from fertility to the fall. #vss365

There are few stars in the bright city's sky; her finger traces an ever-widening #constellation between Vega and Venus and the lights of a Virgin Airlines redeye to London. She calls it Persephone, goddess of rebirth. #vss365

"I'm bored of these jokes." "Hi, Bored-of-these-jokes; I'm Dad." "Please stop! Your humour stinks!" "Of course it does, I'm the #pungent." #vss365

I was in Poland when my cancer was diagnosed. Now, whenever I see a red and white flag, it makes me think of a #malignant mass. #vss365

He was a #jovial man: large, bright, and attractive, but with a stormy temperament and a reputation for coldness. #vss365

When mankind began our intergalactic journey, the first #sentient species we encountered was reported to be, "Like chicken, but with a fishy aftertaste." #vss365

"How was the seance?" "Well, the medium was hot, and really tactile, so I made a move on her. But she said she didn't enjoy sex. That didn't stop her pinching my bum as I left." "So was it good or not?" "It was great! Super pally frigid mystic, sexy and #audacious." #vss365

Daddy sang #bass, mama sang tenor. Me and little brother always knew they couldn't harmonise, but we were teenagers before we worked out they regularly sang in different choirs. #vss365

#malformed worms no thyme screen no injury barely a peon atoll #vss365

Shame has its own #reek: base notes of sickly sweet incense-soaked wood from an old Catholic church, middle notes of sour sweat and salt tears, and a top note of singed feathers from where flames engulfed hope. #vss365

She lives at an angle to the world, so to her the #mundane seems mysterious, and all the customs are foreign. She likes to walk among these exotic people, imagining that they imagine she is one of them… until she speaks. #vss365

#Vigil candles light the path to Midnight Mass, their flames flickering like her faith. Christmas is a time for family, and she had no choice but to bring hers. This will be her child's first mass, but it will be another eight months before it can meet the Father. #vss365

Thank you for your advice, but I cannot 'cope and #seethe'. A choice has to be made. And if I choose to seethe, no one will cope. #vss365

He's her first real lover, without #bionic enhancements. She doesn't care much for him, but she wanted to try the new craze: disappointment. It's not as much fun as her friends suggested. #vss365

I used to rage against my superego with taboo words, with #abject characters disturbing the symbolic order. What a cunt. #vss365

"You know Pam, the stable girl?" "Sure. She's a pedant with anger issues." "Exactly. And if you keep calling the upward curving part of a saddle 'the pemmel', Pam'll #pummel you." #vss365

She said #pixies weren't real, and she'd certainly never seen one, so her family had a doctor declare her insane. She was committed to the Quillow Moonfrost Home for Distressed Fey Folk. #vss365

Red Bull gave her #wings, but the vodka she mixed it with taught her to fly. Then one day she put down the glass, and learned how to land. #vss365

Mornings are #mystical: sunlight re-seeding the consciousness stolen by the moon; twin bodies rising in unison, one giving the other a chance to spread its own warmth and light. Except Monday mornings. Monday mornings are shit. #vss365

I have learned never to investigate when I think I hear a man making vigorous love to a brass instrument. No one wants to deal with a #grumpy trumpet humper, witness horny cornet porn, or become ensnared in a taboo trombone and tuba trio. #vss365

Often, when she's scouted out a likely boy, he disappoints her. Then she lets her friend guide her home, to bake the good brownies and play #rainbow games. #vss365

Somedays, the universe #laughs at my plan to write for #vss365.

Little Miss Muffet told her phobia, "Stuff it!" And threw all her cares away She got wasted on cider and sought out the #spider For an intimate silken soiree #vss365

"It's just a #prank, bro." He said that every time he opened the fridge, and he was always disappointed when the head didn't laugh. #vss365