What If – Encounters

I poke at the fire. Deep red and orange embers spit flames skyward.  As the flames grow thinner, the realization of more wood needs found. 

“Damn it! I should have did this before it got dark.” I see my heat source dwindling before my eyes.  

Dawn is several hours away.  My camp hid well with a pine grove.  I must venture forth to where the wild things roam.  My way guided by the worst flashlight ever and the pale glow of Eris. 

The Moon has long turned in for the night. The false silver light of Moon2 as it was called during its building.  Mankind’s solution to energy build a second Moon.  The crazy light show on its surface was beautiful until they told us it was pieces breaking off and streaming back to Earth.

My third spark has sailed overhead.  They tell us it’s just normal. No one has ever been hit by one of these pieces.  

“Who the hell would know I was hit it here?” I keep eyes open for anything out here.   We used to worry about coyotes and bears.  

This is the last crumb of avoiding civilization. The government will covert this to receiving station for that damn Eris. The greater good.  So we at told.

I leave my little corner for an arm full of wood.  Just enough to keep warm.  Just enough to give me the peace of wilderness. The woods have been cleaned of anything bigger than a twig. 

A light flashes in green behind me. A wave of heat. A sound like an exploding building.  My legs feel the ground shudder.

My vantage point is sparse trees in an island against open darkness.  I can see light from something below a ridge I was unaware of before.  Mechanical sounds whirl.  Static and broke words burst forth. None are clear.  I search for a path to get me closer.

A lonely motor winds.  I hear treads click and blacking. Voices rise but never clear the commotion. 

I walk through scrub oaks. I snap an occasional branch. I was walking by rolling feet to not annouce my presence.  A half mile hike takes less time when you stop breathing from fear of being heard.

“Billy!  The cage.  We need the cage out here now! They’re coming in from North in 130 seconds.” The deep voice crawls through the still night. 

My eyes reach the edge.   A pit that collapsed to reveal gated under ground.  Two cages ten feet tall with twice the length and width gleem in low light.  In one corner, a small grey man tends to something inside. 

A green glow blinds me. Whispers of wind spill on to me.  

“They’re real! Oh shit….They are real!” I try to stay quiet.  The scaly hand on my shoulder tells me I wasn’t quiet enough. 

“Billy! We got a peeper!” The thing attached yells out.

The small grey man looks up suddenly. He walks over to see my body hanging in the air.  His tall friend keeping me off the ground by hanging me like a towel.

“Put him on with the others. We need to get these humans off our planet.  I told you they hid like rats. They know it’s illegal but they still come out here.”

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/tale-weaver-119-what-if-11-05-17/

Photo Challenge -Tea leaves

I bask in her warmth.  My mind holds those moments that are special because they are our moments.   There is a certain calmness that stills my heart.  

The night drifts by.  Time is a ceiling fan counting by whoosh sounds.   Light stays at bay. 

My dreams morph.   Subtly I’m drawn away.  Her face warn and kind grows.   Her smile looks more relaxed.  I twist to better see whay keeps me whole.

The warmth returns. Strange white shiny walls curve up from below. I feel like am burning.  Parts of me break free and float off.  Her smile twists more profound.  

Being someone cup of tea is not always good

Wordle – Scrawny Thoughts

Week 154

1. Pile

2. Smart

3. Pâro ((n.) the feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the world will only end up crossing some invisible taboo—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, colder, colder, colder.)

4. Vicarious

5. Mash

6. Nasal

7. Disagree

8. Witch

9. Shed

10. Primitive

11. Wedge

12. Scrawny

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

My thoughts a vicarious pile of disagreeable cash.  There’s a witch called Pâro. My head smarts from the primitive wedge pushed into my nasal cavity. The shed were scrawny thoughts of unproven wait to be spoiled in front of everyone. 

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1449968851

Guess Who Back in Town Today? – Music Challenge #3

I look into dark chocolate eyes.  The ones that are like soft blankets.  They hold my every move. 

“Don’t believe me if I tell you. Not a word of this is true.  Don’t believe me if I tell you, that in love with you.”  My voice sings a song but sure doesn’t know it.   Her smile doesn’t care. 

“Hey, guess who got back today?” 

The voice rattles me.  I recognize barely.   My vision of Molly fade to black.   I’m in a lunch place.  Dylan repeats this again. 

“She swore that she love me.  She swore she would never leave me. But tge devil take that woman for you know she tricked me easy” I reply like I didn’t phase out for a minute. I reach for my double onthe rocks.  Thanking someone for whiskey in the jar.

She comes and goes.  And you know it all too well.  But when all is said and done.  The Sun goes down.” He raises his beer to me. 
Italized words are lyrics from Thin Lizzy songs In Order of Appearance “Dont Believe a Word”, “The Boys are Back in Town”, “Whiskey in the Jar”, “The Sun goes down”. I choose the group with the most modern rewrite as the inspiration 

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/05/music-prompt-3-whiskey-in-the-jar-by-metallica-musicchallenge/

Panicked Breaths

My surprise lunch at home, truly a surprise.  My arrival goes unnoticed.  I look quickly and see lights on but not the body I’m looking for.  I hear muted voices.  

Laughter spills into the hall leading to the bedroom. It pauses and my wife in a loud whisper “Oh…I can’t believe you’re actually going to try doing that.”

My world freezes.  My world melts.  I drop the bags of fast food.  Like a ghost, I float toward a, mortal whim forgot my existence. 

My breathing panics as I confront a mystery.  Feelings of betrayal and wrestling to control a rapid heat beat leave me trapped.  Shallow rapid lunges of my lungs area all i can do. 

She laughs even more.  Giggles flow freely in a room I can no longer get to.  Each other stings like a bee.  I can see the hands of another reaching over her.  Lips whisper things that I couldn’t dream of saying aloud.  And she squeals really high pitch. 

My hands feel for the wall.  Unconscious, I pull myself forward. 

“Oh, my God.  You’re home! ” She yells.

There is noone there.  A TV.  A show with someone eating goldfish.  

I’m ghost white.   The thoughts have lead me to my own demise. 

“I brought lunch.  I wanted to surprise you.” I would say I try to recover.  But breathes are still at a premium. 
<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/panicked/">Panicked</a>

The Dark Path 

“Souls don’t become lost. They grow deaf” Sam looks down at the mess that was Audrey.  “It is not who could do a thing like this…. But rather, what they allowed to rule them.  I would pray for their soul. However, it appears they have none left.”

Sam pulls down his black homemade stetson hat. His right hand reaches into a saddle bag.   It finds a book of curled pages.  It’s silver flaked cross peeled from a charcoal cover announces what it is.   

He walks a few feet to the remains.   His head nods to Jacob to remove his hat as well.  The ritual is becoming daily.   There’s darkness falling from the skies here.   Like rain, it causes weeds to take root.

Silently Sam prays over the body.   His eyes shed a solitary tear.  His hands skim the well worn pages.  His face moves to accent the wear and tear of the years.  Deep set eyes have long sunk.  His mustache lost most of it color and form.   Age didn’t creep up on him, it ambushed him. 

 He wishes he had learned to read.  Long lost shreads of time tie him to a respectable past.  His title changed from miner to Marshall, to scoundrel to pastor. Heaven holds no lure for him.  Neither did a fast trip to Hell.  He fooled enough people and respected them into returning the favor.

His heart still drops when it’s a good person that falls.  He knows each day has brought another body.  Each of these bodies have been less connected to itself.  Tomorrow there will be another one.

“Audrey was one of the few bright spots here.  Chauncy Miller, he’ll need to know what…” Sam’s voice goes rough. “Damn it! Just don’t say how she looked when we got here.  It’ll be enough to kill him knowing she’s gone.”

His eyes find the horizon.  Mountains cut this place fron the rest of the world. It equally keeps demons on both sides of the ridge.  The few here are harder to find. 

Mechanical Love

“I love her.  She is Magic.  She turns white things different colors. She’s warm and had the sweetest little red eyes.” Melvin looks at his love interest across the room. 

The Melvo-500 was placed here for a reason.   His programming told him so.   The room of sheltered pieces and older machines was his room.  Always was.  Then people started visiting half hour each day.  Like clockwork, they come and go.   Never talking to him. 

One day, they brought in things.   And new machines.  The first ones were boxy and noisy.   Always cried for attentiom.   Then her petite form showed up.   Shiny and sleek. They called her toaster.

Wrtten as part of a challenge called Photo Challnge,  detsils are at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/02/photo-challenge-163/

Strangers Waiting for the Plane 

“My friend, we will be here awhile.”  A voice travels to my ear.

I have no friends here.   I’m in lay-over purgatory.  I turn to see a bright smiling face.   A rather Foriegn face but charming British accent. 

“I’m sorry… I was starting at people and didn’t realize who you were talking to.  They told me four hours ago, this flight is the most timely they run.   Travel is hell.” I try to figure the nice man out.  

We simply don’t act this way at home.  My God, he could be a terrorist, or a religious nut, or run a foreign money scam.   The news of full of these types in other countries. 

“Travel is like a present.   You think you know what will be inside.   Then like a flower it opens… simply amazing what happens.   We seldom believe what we know not.” His hands gesture something popping up out of box.   I hate to fly alone. You seem much better than most here.  Calm to the outside.  At least.”

I turn to catalog his features. Dark eyes,  softly set amongst richly tan skin.   Dark hair well controlled at ear length with a bushy mustache.  His crisp cotton shirt  almost glows white.  He has one small carry on bag.  

“I returning from finding a brother who thinks the world is a grand adventure.  He found simple things aren’t simple in other places. I’ll be the first to tell him how wrong he is…” My voice falters.   Why am I telling a stranger this?

“He is good to have you.  Someone to go when he needs. I have to deliver things to family.   I’m the only one who has the time.” His dark eyes lock into me. “I will find other things.  Make this a real trip for me.”

“Oh.  You been to the States before?” My mind erupts.  A real live terrorist.   There’s a bomb not even five feet away from me.

“No. The place scares me.  Kilometers to travel.  We do not drive like that.   But must see something.  When I deliver this, I am then free. Free to travel.” His smile is truly a master weapon. 

I freeze.   What dies one say you a mad killer. 

“Where are you going?  I have traveled a bit.” I fake friendliness.   My eyes look for security personnel.   

“You are tense all of a sudden.   I will be in Seattle.  We are on the same flight.  I didn’t mean to…. cause you any discomfort.  Strangers sometimes want their space.”  He smiles that damn friendly smile. 

“I’m sorry.   I’m a bit tired.   Didn’t mean to push you away. ”  My lies get deeper.  

He sits foward and speaks  “I’ll return.”

I watch him walk over to a security person bag in tow.  They smile and talk.   The smiles disappear. They both look my way. 

I’m no terrorist! 
Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1436456071

Tea for Two

“I don’t get it?! She up in left.” Marty’s hand shakes the phone. “We just got here. i took her to Reading the Tea Leaves, just like you said. Seriously, Darla what kind of freak did you set me up with?”

The phone starts quiet for too long.  

“Ok, she loves the place.  What else happened? She goes there every week. What did you say?  or do?” Darla half asks 

“We ordered and say down.   I put down the little table flag with 19 on it….” Marty doesn’t get to finish.

“Nonadecaphobia. I should have told you. Sorry, she doesn’t do well with signs.   You know how it is.” Darla explains. 

“No. No, I don’t.” Marty hangs up

End of the Road 

A knock on the door.  Followed by six more.   Staccato wraps follow the first soft touch.  A solitary light shone in a living room. 

The full moon rises.   It lights the last house on the pavement.   The road falls to gravel and disappears into the woods.  The woods reaches around the simple house and its barn.  The white glow of the moon paints it better in the night than the Sun.  The door hides within a small porch, shrunk by the boxes and tables stacked around. 

The hand rises again.  The knocks continue six at a time.  Staccato beats. 

“Hang on baby! hang on…. We’ll get you help.” Brian looks down.   A face looks back.

“No one will open the door… it’s too late they’ll never open the door.” Connie voice fades.   Her jeans covered in blood.   The yellow t-shirt dirt covered and suddenly wore out. “It’s cold.  Maybe there’s blanket in this stuff.   Maybe morning…”

“I see someone.  They are in there.   They’ll help us.” Brian wipes his head.  A streak of blood runs down fron his forehead.  His face shows he doesn’t think help is coming. 

Brian returns to the door.  A series of knocks continues.   Each becoming a little more panic stricken. “Hello?! We need help.   Just call the police…  anything! Please!”

Connie is on the wooden porch. She is sitting against soft boxes that lean over toward her a bit.  She’s scared but holding on a brave front. “Sit next to me.  The morning.. They’ll see us.”

Shuffling sounds inside stop her.   The dragging and stopping catch their attention.  The door had three little boxes that show how dark the inside is but little else.   

“If you open that door, I’ll kill you both. Shotgun is in my hands.” The voice followed by a tapping on the other side of the door. “You live to see tomorrow…. I’ll habe to deal with Y’all then.   Stop banging or you’ll wake up the Dead!”

The shuffling starts again.   This time fading away.   The single light flashes out.