This week’s photo prompt is provided by Grant-Sud. Thank you Grant-Sud!
“The charges are very serious! Do you have anything to say on your behalf?” The judge scowls down at his rebel rouser.
“It’s a smiley face. Hardy gang markings… I mean the old man there is a grump like you…sir.” Manny looks down for another answer on his shoes “Why can’t you people smile once in awhile?”
The judge looks perplexed. “Why I smile! I smile all the time around here. Don’t I Julie?”
The court stenographer looks back a little shocked. “Yes, sir”
“We have a serous job. There are consequences for things. We need to show that here. But I still smile. We try to have…. fun.” the judge smiles like it hurts him Yes, we try to have fun here.”
“I thought a chalk smile was fun! Something nice to see” Manny smiles.
“Chalk, did you say chalk? I’m really wasting my time on graffiti charges!” the judge loses his smile again. “Prosecutor! Give me those pictures and one hell of any explanation!”
1. turn signal
4. swain [a young lover or suitor|a country youth]
5. gibbous moon [any moon that appears more than half lighted but less than full is called a gibbous moon. The word gibbous comes from a root word that means hump-backed]
6. fen [a low and marshy or frequently flooded area of land|flat low-lying areas of eastern England, formerly marshland but largely drained for agriculture since the 17th century|wetland with alkaline, neutral, or only slightly acid peaty soil]
8. bombshell [an overwhelming surprise or disappointment|a very attractive woman|an artillery shell]
9. Lilliputian [trivial or very small|a trivial or very small person or thing|early 18th century: from the imaginary country of Lilliput in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, inhabited by people 6 inches (15 cm) high]
10. mawkish [sentimental in a feeble or sickly way|having a faint sickly flavor]
I would pester her. The brunette bombshell whose melodious voice could corrupt my every thought. But like some mawkish lilliputian werewolf want-to-be, I waited upon a gibbous moon to become full and set me free.
I realize with no car in the garage, i was no more than a swain. The person driving down the road left turn signal stuck on like i had no idea when to turn. And when i did, there I was stuck in fen, knee deep in ooze.
You challenge me with a route teeming with pretense. I should jump at the dearth of shock you attempt. How is it possible one could care so lightly? Not as individual drug, nor bulk helps to deal with you.
The autumn chill descended over the town and with it came rot and ruin. October’s breath plays in the streets. Dense blanket of fog keep the Sun at bay. Breezes swirl but lift nothing but a few leaves. The stiffling scent of certainly wasn’t moving away.
The Almira dogs stop their incessant howling. Sounds fail as silence takes a bite from the hustle and bustle of Suburbia. Wood creaks,slightly muffed like under a rug. Two mutts slowly back away from the fence made of chicken wire and old beams. Wood crumbles. Wire rusts through instantly. Tentatively they take their last steps.
Trees sway above. The fog moves a little further. The stench lingers. Upon the next house, another life falls.
“I love the sound of the river. God, those engines fighting the inevitable current! They surge!” Timothy taps his fingers on a wooden crate. “If they stop, the thing goes sideways.”
Timothy tugs down the brim of his ball cap. His eyes roll along the viaduct. Empty as always during the morning. The Sun has yet to bring out the second round of fishermen.
“Well, time to loosen the load. I hope you can swim….” Timothy’s voice raises slightly. “Oh yeah…Good luck with the crate, ropes and gag.”
Timothy pushes the long narrow crate to the edge of the tailgate. A sudden shift in weight drops it to the concrete surface inches from the water.
“Don’t worry those bags of sand won’t hurt soon. The water takes all that weight away. It sounds like it knocked the wind out of you.” Timothy pushes it end over end til a loud splash splits the surface.
“Are you sure someone can read it in a hundredth of a second?” Shiela looks upward.
“World’s Greatest Psychic seemed presumptuous, so…” Gabriel looks at her.
“But can they read it?!” Shiela questions
2. distils [*alternate spelling of distills]
4. musk [a strong-smelling reddish-brown substance that is secreted by the male musk deer for scent-marking and is an important ingredient in perfumery| a relative of the monkey flower that was formerly cultivated for its musky perfume, which has been lost in the development of modern varieties| *late Middle English: from late Latin muscus, from Persian mušk, perhaps from Sanskrit muṣka ‘scrotum’ (because of the similarity in shape of a musk deer’s musk bag)]
5. viol [a musical instrument of the Renaissance and baroque periods, typically six-stringed, held vertically and played with a bow]
10. tinctured [be tinged, flavored, or imbued with a slight amount of| denoting a dye or pigment|‘imparted quality,’ likened to a tint imparted by a dye]
11. cowslip [a European primula with clusters of drooping fragrant yellow flowers in spring, growing on dry grassy banks and in pasture]
The owls swagger within the boughs of the apple tree. Their song reminiscent of a viol. It strikes a nerve like a villain.
My nightly trek. Moonlight harvesting of cowslip for tinctured distils. Instead my sweat sodden clothes smell of cheap musk. This night stains my mind. There something unnatural about.
“Come in Rogers. Are you there?” The silver box speaks again
“Piece of junk! Like the damn tin can that got us stuck here!” Rogers kicks a stone and tries it again. “Yes, we are here on this damn empty rock!”
“We have a read on you finally. We show ship is down. What’s your status?” the silver box squeals out it’s song.
“We’re stuck. Phillips is taping the ship together and calling this forsaken place Terra Firma. I’m looking for that water line on the map. I don’t think it works. The valve is missing.” Rogers calms down as he stares at the valve.
“You have 2 weeks worth of water left. You should just make a pick up if you can’t activate the ship.” the silver box continues “Check for life signatures, as your mission goals.”
“Well forget that life signature you saw here. The place is dead. Dead! Just like the two of us. Get another ship here. He can’t fix nothing without parts.” Rogers snaps back.
He touches the rusting wheel. His grandpa worked the waterline on Mars. He knew he wouldn’t be the one to die of thirst here.
Thank you Elaine Farrington Johnson for our photo prompt this week!
Sharon ran through the house
“Samuel! You’re on the front page!” she yells across the house “Look!”
Reggie gets up from his chair to see his little boy on the page.
Mommy! Let me see too!” Samuel pops up from underneath the paper. “Just like Daddy said we changed the world. Didn’t we?”
Reggie casts a big grin at his son “Yeah, we sure did.”
His eyes move bad to the rest of the page. His mind says “No we didn’t”
1 Favissa -a cache of sacred objects that are no longer in use
2 Arkwright – A skilled craftsman who produces wooden chests or coffers (Arks)
6 Cacophony – discordant and mixture of harsh sounds
7 Imp – a little devil or demon, an evil spirit, or mischievous child
Extra twisted bonus phrase “Someone is walking over my grave” – a sudden response to a sudden shudder or shivering
“Someone is walking over my grave!” she snaps to attention as if hit by an unseen object. “Oh, whom could it be?”
Her mind flutters. Upon her scattered table, she fetches a black looking glass.
“I see your reflection! By what subterfuge does your heart plot for me?” Her green eyes glow as they delve into clandestine shadows.
Her left hand reaches through the glass clutching a crimson thread.
“Ha! Upon my pyre will I roast this piece of you. Tighter than a corset… it will wrap inside you. Cacophony of imps will craft your tune!” She smiles like it hurts her soul.
“Father, your gifted arkwright hands have found another wretched soul to add to the favissa. I will pass a box of their ashes upon the faciene sacrabs and broken crosses of long ago.” She pauses in mid sentence.
“Esmeralda, you dumb bitch you left the window open. There’s no-one is over your grave!” she stomps her feet on the ground and gets up to close the source of the chill down her back.
“I wonder whom I cursed then?” she shrugs “Probably deserves it anyway.”