This is from Spillwords.com… They have been gracious enough to accept my works. Give them a try.
Fill out the form below to submit your literary work for consideration to be published as a part of a series called ‘13 Days of Halloween‘.
The series will run from October 18th through October 31st, and we will be featuring a different literary work everyday for 13 days.
All literary pieces should embrace Halloween, and the spirit of this holiday. It should make reference of Trick or Treating, ghosts and goblins, black cats, superstitions, or any appropriate iconic Halloween character.
We look forward to your literary treats!
My time has come. You’ve spent eons trying to understand me. I have wrote my messages in blood, white chalk, paint and tried digital for awhile. The whole was “the End is near”. With humanity it always was. Every sense of fear created conquest, war, famine and death. My saddlecloth changes and your names do, as well. In my bid adieu, I cast the last light upon the end of your path.
My nature is much that of your languages. The ability to redefine what it is the I may be. In a final attempt to reveal the truth, I appear as I should to your modern words. You may not look upon my face, lest you may remember my true name. Your time for heroics past. Like your history and adherse to the myths of belief, you will rise into the air as dust.
Farewell. My efforts to teach you the importance of tomorrow and banding together have failed. Tomorrow, finally will come. Remember how you wanted to live your last day. It’s close.
Thoughts swirl through my mind
Lighting the dark recesses
Like fireflies, they spark and move
I reach for them in vain
they scatter and reemerge
I forget once captured they die
The jar can only confine
It only zaps their energy
They fade like yesterday’s dreams
Still my inner child swings
Maybe this time it’ll work
I can hold and make it real
Suddenly they are gone
Like darkness against sudden light
They fade from sight
Never to be known
Whether any of it was real
If I built a bridge to you Would it be steel and concrete? Would it be paved in dreams? Illuminated by glowing promises Decorated by river called Hope A valley awash in blooming rainbows At night, fog would wraps it arms around Keeping away the cold of darkness Birds would sing to bring the dawn Gentle breezes would lift drowsy Every day could start fresh Thoughts would be free of the past If built a bridge to you Could we meet in the middle?
Cold fingers slowly squeezing
Breath of life from within
Desire for everything deserved
Acceptance never an option
Insatiable want steeps the soul
There are no cures fittingly
They wouldn’t be good enough
Or plentiful in the nice things
Cast by insecurity within wax
The hollow shell, all that remains
A life lived by envy and greed
if only being human was enough
This week’s photo prompt is provided by artycaptures.wordpress.com. Thank you artycaptures!
“Oh no! I’m not trying that!” Stella curls her nose at the streaming cup before her.
“Just try it once. You’ll be hooked, just like me!” Mortimer inches it across the table at her.
“No! I’ll have none of that gruel!” Stella pushes it back, spilling half of it on the table.
They both watch as the foamy paste slowly deflates into a pool of red, orange clumps surrounded by water.
“I told you! Look at what you choose over our natural food!” Stella stands up her long pale face grimacing at her mate. “This is the reason our kind are disappearing! All processed foods!”
“It’s really good, though. You don’t have to hang out on dark alleys for food.” Mortimer looks at his spindly hands wringing then together. ” I suppose the thrill isn’t there. Pitty, that.”
“Shut the hell up! You are a vampire! You’re drinking blood substitute for a Kuerig!” Stella points out the blasphemous device. “Mother was right about you!”
Word count 158
Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer
Tides wash away the day
Flotsam and jetsam of tomorrow
Awaiting to meet sand of yesterday
My thoughts like lagan lay buried
Churning seas push and pull at them
Still the tide wash away the day
Dreams like whitecaps ripple
Appearing here then there
Like illusions I long to hold
I watch them drift away
Yet still the tides wash away the day
Yesterday gives me place
Resting here I replay days
Beyond me hope floats
Riding waves free to move on
But still the tides wash away the day
*flotsam (floating debris) & jetsam (subsurface debris) are joined by lagan (sunken debris) here
Color burst surfaced in my mind. A punch to the throat mixed with wrapping chains. I simmered.
“What kind of nut?” I labeled him, as if it matters now.
3. Abash (v)) to destroy the self-confidence, poise, or self-possession of;disconcert;make ashamed orembarrassed)
6. Celadon (n.)) a pale grey-green, any ofseveral Chinese porcelains having atranslucent, pale green glaze..)
11. Offal (the parts of the animal that are considered inedible, viscera, rubbish)
12. Trenchancy (adj.)) incisive or keen,as language or a person; caustic; cutting; vigorous; effective; energetic)
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem
The words can appear in an alternate form
Use the words in any order that you like.
Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle
Nervous to show sagging, unabashed i shine like salvaged celadon. Trechancy airs permeate the meeting. Vacant eyes and minds move clip by clip. Their fingers reading offal and entails for facts unseen.
Washed down in syrup
Another liquid fizz
Lingering need for more
The world versus me
They haven’t got a chance!
Teflon hero immune
To cause and others
Right by self-interest
Center attention resides
Places build up within others
Written on banner
Held hands high
Little Big Horn awaits
If you only know
Sharing isn’t caring
Leavening the field
Dragging you down here
Blame and hate
Chains keeping you down
Across all views
Problems involving everything
Excited drawing blood
Hoping pain caused
Damage little concern
One more million
One more collection
Things horridly glorious
Poor only want nothing
All that shines
All that glitters
Attention span withers
Dreams awash vision
Mind dances fancy thoughts
Incredible drowse embraces
My work drifts away
Soul joins the shadows
Flesh dripping taste
Candys last linger clings
Forbidden flavor always best
Touch builds memory
Desire creating scene
A long time ago there were eight capital sins, corrupted souls got lazy and combined aspects of a few. Besides 7 sounds better as deadly sins