6. Willowy (adj.) Lithe, graceful, slender)
12. Mimeomia ((n.) the frustration of knowing how easily you fit into a stereotype, even if you never intended to, even if it’s unfair, even if everyone else feels the same way—each of us trick-or-treating for money and respect and attention, wearing a safe and predictable costume because we’re tired of answering the question, “What are you supposed to be?”)
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
Moon beaten, a willow woman leaves her seclusion. Inside her blood beaten by despair induces a walk to the scaffold. Self aware of the will es surrounding her. They see her mimeomia as sweet as nectarines.
Writtenas part of a challenge called Wordle, detailsavailable at https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1475648297
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.”
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
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
“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/
“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
I run. A staggered path weaves between rock, trees and cactus. My enemy is above. I feel the eyes scanning the landscape.
“Shadows are my friend.” I whisper to my fellow creatures of the night. “I will sleep on safety beneath your own nose!”
I want to laugh. But sound travels to easily here. Its bad enough I see my quarry. But it’s myself dug in the hole hunted. He can’t get what he can’t see. The plan is working so far.
The clouds thin. Moonbeams stretch out. Rays of silver like nails in my coffin. I hide with my back finding an uncomfortable Saguaro. I watch the light chase the darkness. Hope is a thin shadow.
My pulse rises to match a deep thumping heart. If heartbeats slow maybe I can breath. But for how long?
I turn my head to look.
His face smiles back. An oblivious look or game over expression. If I could hear him. I hate the distance between us. Only in moving do I get to find out who wins this night.
“I would stab at you. You hide too far away.” I look away from him. “There has always been a man within the Moon. He stalks us all. He had always been death. He will always be death. Tonight, better be someone else’s turn.”
I curl into a ball and wait.
Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver, details available at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/04/20/tale-weaver-116-the-moon/