6. Moment of Tangency
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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
Butterflies sway. Images whisper from mocha pupils. Fragile dreams flash like flickering eyelashes. Sultry illusions tainted with sweat, perch on the veranda overlooking our moment of tangency.
“Have we met?” You ask.
“Oh, no” I reply.
“She said she saw two eyes staring out at her. So we got a little closer. I couldn’t see anything at all.” Simon pauses to breath. ” I thought it was a dog or something.”
Simon looks back to the brush pile. His right hand drawn tight against a pounding chest.
“It was black…. I think. It all happened so fast.” Simon’s voice fails as his eyes cloud with tears.
“Then she was gone. We know the story. But you still didn’t answer how you could lose an arm and how she could disappear leaving nothing but blood.” Detective Mills looks around the scene. “It’s like she was slaughtered. And you have no idea what did this in broad daylight?! Why if you had both arms!”
“I’m telling you she saw two eyes.” Simon starts again.
Almost has a sister named if. The pair of little monsters run around teasing the world. As only the six to eight year old can understand, they mean not the harm they cause.
They play tag with the unsuspecting. A glimpse of her curling hair, maybe a thought of what color his ball cap was remains with you. Your thoughts jump the rail like a commuter train on the evening news. You are left bewildered to what happened. But as it was nothing really. It disappears into ether.
If has a brother, and he’s right outside your door. The chill of a sudden breeze. The flash of light off in the distance. He’s there waiting. And you can think about what it was… Almost
Puff looks over at HR.
“Remember the good ole days…” He pauses turning his head to the sky “We could breath fire and chase a bad child or two.”
“Video games. That’s the problem.” HR Puff’n’stuff looks at his friend “Violence has replaced getting eaten by mystical creatures. Sad. Really sad.”
Puff let’s loose a terrific flame followed by a smoke cloud.
“Knock it off over there!” HR furrows his brows. “They’ll can us for sure. You know open flames are dangerous!”
“Imagination was the key to great adventures.” Puff looks surprised at his friend. “Are we left to be rationalize as irreverent?”
“How’s that rent over in Honalee getting paid?” HR rolls his eyes.
Gretchen wakes with a shudder. The eerie morning light paints unusual colors on the walls. Like fluid spilling from an opening can, her world changes back to real.
The room fills with echoes of her slowing breath. Her eyes search for a query to explain what happened again. She rubs then with open hands as if to wipe the scene permanently from her vision.
Her right hand rummages the table top of her nightstand. Fast fingers find the smooth surface of her phone. Its harsh blue light4hw telling of a number dialed.
“Hello? Hello! It happened again!” Gretchen yells in bursts. “I can’t take these dreams. Are you revenue?”
“Yeah . . .. I’m here. … It’s like 540AM.” Joel works feverishly to put who and what together.
“It happened again! I’m… I’m leaving my room through the window.” Gretchen draws lines in the air with her hand “I heard voices. Then footsteps…. My heart is exploding in beats. I can’t breath. My throat is choked up. Are you listening to me?!”
“Yeah.. Yeah. The footsteps draw closer and you go out.” Joel thinks of why his crazy sister calls him alone.
“But this time on a unicorn… Wait, I mean unicycle. There’s a cord running down to the beach. The ocean is turning muddy. And blackbirds… They call out to these people in the house where I am.” She loses her breath taking in a rush.
“Gretchen. Calm down. You decided to go to Clown school.” Joel looks back at the clock “You and that Therapist of yours decided it was the only way to get over your clown phobia. I’m going back to bed. Put your clown attire in the closet where you can’t see it!”
1. monkey wrench
2. dust bunny
3. jejune [naive, simplistic, and superficial|(of ideas or writings) dry and uninteresting]
5. goose-neck lamp
8. vexatious [causing or tending to cause annoyance, frustration, or worry|denoting an action or the bringer of an action that is brought without sufficient grounds for winning, purely to cause annoyance to the defendant]
9. pernicious [having a harmful effect, especially in a gradual or subtle way]
11. milk bottle
12. vermilion lipstick [vermilion:a brilliant red pigment made from mercury sulfide (cinnabar)]
My vexatious glances lock on that vermilion lipstick stained milk bottle. The effect of dementia or angst… i know not. I’m drunk on pernicious ideals life is fair.
“Mollycoddle, your word to label me” I yell at shadows cast from the gooseneck lamp.
I see monkey wrenches you laid into my plans. Row boats beached on distant shores. They mix in their darkness with the dim light. A dust bunny becomes a dragon. More jejune debris from brief in humans.
I long for simple times
I remember when it was perfect
Being as one without boundaries
Magic lived between what was us
Just to bring that back for a moment
To grasp the raw emotions
No plague of worry or thought
When the mist clears my eyes
A lone thought cries out
How do you recreate
What never was
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.
Heart beats into my eardrums
Stray thoughts loose and running
Fruitless pursuits dream
Upon unseen mountains
My thoughts echo
Pulled within illusions
Places only fools trust
My soul seeks peace
Reflection against the world
Chasms fill with echoes
Voices writing lyrics
Waves of comfort spill
Zephira draws up her mandolin. A few gentle strums of its strings lets loose the amora of fall leaves and vanilla. Her head lowers beyond sight. The air rushes by suddenly perishing dreams of Summer. Her words turn staccato like piano notes. I resist with all my might.
A distant cello joins in with her melody. The world bends to her. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll slip back to where I belong. The world is so small within the looking glass.