Crumb of Dignity

“Is there not one crumb of dignity within you?” Her hectic voice screeching.

He barely lifts his head.

Which just enrages her more.

“Nothing to say, huh?” She snaps

Her left hand suddenly rummage within her purse.

Two shots ring out.

A figure covered in cloth falls

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/crumb/">Crumb</a>

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Wishing

Today a wish fell from the sky

Dust, maybe fairy dust it sparkled

My breath stopped, my heart paused

Trying to comprehend was it meant

My eyes glued as it tumbled

Finding my upturned palm

Slowly gossamer wings appeared

Spellbound I stared at the sight

It tested those frail wings

Turning to face me

Then leapt back skyward

I wished it stayed

I wished for the wisdom of a child

Knowing to act not think first

As it rose, I jumped up

Failing arms desperate to grab on

My mind crawled away

My face dropped a bit

I knew next time what to do

When the next wish falls from the sky

Wordle – Haunts of You

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1. monkey wrench
2. dust bunny
3. jejune [naive, simplistic, and superficial|(of ideas or writings) dry and uninteresting]
4. rowboat
5. goose-neck lamp
6. dementia
7. angst
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]
10. mollycoddle
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.

Writing in Blanks

Plagued by a tub of words! I imagine spry swings of alliteration. But thumps of forgetable lines suck. No tap of the pencil changes things.

Recreate

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

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/recreate/”>Recreate</a&gt;

Autumn

Her long brown hair trails

A little tattered at the ends

You feel her presence quickly

The air turns cool as she moves

Dark eyes sparkle with color

Her smile warming at first

Against a deep blue sky she glides

Trees glow in her wake

You hate to see her turn away

Behind her a long dark shadow

In which things slowly fade away

Color breathes rapidly now

Gone

“What do you mean he’s gone?!” Abigail looks at her mom.

“The guy across the street. You know sits by the flower pots and waves to everyone.” Mom points with her right hand. “He’s gone”

“He told Sheila he was going to find peace very soon. He was weird” Abigail grows tired of this conversation

“Find peace? What kind of freak did we talk to all this time?” Mom furrows her brow

“Mom, maybe he was a psychopath or bank robber! How cool he lived right there.” Abigail taps on her phone “Im gonna be so cool. I lived never a real life criminal!”

“We don’t know that! You can’t tell people that Abby!” Mom looks concerned and stops to look at back across the street. “What if he was?”

(132 words)

Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer

Farewell – Photo Challenge #180

Dear People,

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.

Sympathy

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sympathy/">Sympathy</a>

“Sympathy? I remember sympathy. It was a two way street, once.” Her face stretched and slightly twisted. Shadows fill lines within her face.

“I… I don’t understand…” his voice breaks in disbelief and the hopelessness of being bound. The sleepiness and mix of a pharmaceutical cocktail crawl under his skin.

“I have remembered everything. Particularly, how much sympathy I have seen.” She fractures a small smile. It provides light in a darkened room between two empty souls.

Floral Skirt

wordle333

1. pistil [the female reproductive part of a flower. The pistil, centrally located, typically consists of a swollen base, the ovary, which contains the potential seeds, or ovules; a stalk, or style, arising from the ovary; and a pollen-receptive tip, the stigma, variously shaped and often sticky.]

2. stamen [a stamen is a male reproductive organ of a flower. It produces the pollen. The stamen has two parts: the anther, and the stalk. The stalk is also called the filament.]

3. arabesque

4. skirt

5. socket

6. measure

7. loop

8. simmer

9. granny knot [The granny knot is a binding knot, used to secure a rope or line around an object.]

10. clutch

11. reverse

12. dawdle

Slowly, I dawdle down the dark street. My lone measure is a skirt. Loops of flowers, touching stamen and pistils. Arabesque lines clutching each other like granny knots. Eye sockets simmer as I take measure of its movements.