The Moon –

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/

Dear Death 


We spend our time hiding 

From what, do we ever know? 

Shadows tugging at our heels 

Or a scythe swinging unseen

Some hide from possible life 

The taker of last breathes 

You will run to catch me 

I’ll not go quietly into the night 

Good or bad, Dawn will be waiting

Look not for me Death 

I’ll return the favor

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/04/16/writing-prompt-203-letters-to-death/

Ooh death
Whooooah death
Won’t you spare me over ‘til a another year?

Well what is this that I cant see 
With ice cold hands taking hold of me

Well I am death none can excel 
I’ll open the door to heaven or hell
Whoa death someone would pray 
Could you wait to call me another day

Ralph Stanley,  “Oh Death”

https://g.co/kgs/eKvdUs


Wordle #150 – Iris

Week 150.png

1. Count

2. Iris

3. Peak

4. Penny Gush ((n.) Exaggerated stories or tales)

5. Grovel

6. Reflection

7. Assign

8. Mutable ((adj.) subject to change, fickle)

9. Lavish

10. Insignificant

11. Occhiolism ((n.) the awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldn’t possibly draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the past or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it still only has a sample size of one, and may end up being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.)

12. Girl

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

Iris looked upon her lavish girl reflection.  Any insignificant puddle barely assigned peak viewing.  She counted the mutable features.  She groveled at her own penny gush fantasies.   She bristled at the word occhiolism.  It obviously wasn’t her they talked about. 

Isabella

saccstry.deviantart.com

“You have candy?!  Give me candy and I won’t eat your brains.   Not right away.   I just need candy” Isabella circles like a puppy. Bright shiny eyes albeit a bit disturbingly colored.”I’ll be good.  Really! I need chocolate.”

Mr Mills looks awkwardly at the child. “Who have you this hairdo? And those contacts? They are horrible! You look like a Halloween doll! Where’s you guardian little one?”

His hands twitch as they tug at the sleeves of the blue ill-fitting suit. His eyes stay down away from the child.  His middle aged conditions knawl at him.  He wants answers but the child is obviously spoiled beyond belief. 

“I ate her brain.  She told me to take of my wig.   So i jumped up on her shoulders to chew hers off her head. I was surprised when it was real.” she looks around the room for an unseen need “I guess that’s what the screaming she was doing was all about. But I didn’t get my candy yet.   So where’s it at?”

“Rich imagination child. I’m here on serious matters.  It won’t take much more before in feed up with your game.   Isabella, be a good girl.  Go find Ms Maples….please.” His face is a tightrope.  The words filter through clinched teeth. 

“Ok, I’ll go get someone. Do you me too? Really she’s not much to talk to anymore…” Isabella kicks at the floor.  The realization that no candy is coming sinks in. 

“Yes, Isabella, I would like that very much.” Mr Mills watches her disappear. Little foot steps find a hallway and echo against dark wood panels.

He turns to look at the strange tapestry of a fox hunt on the wall.  “No wonder she’s so dark.”

A squeaking sound builds within the hall that Isabella chose.  He waits to turn.   The woman clearly kept him waiting for a reason.   No-one thinks child services ever sees these tactics.

“Here she is…Ms Maples.  You wanted to she her.   Here she is!” The little girl poses like the magician completing a trick.

“My God! What happened here?!” His voice quivers and fails. His face stretches and pales.  Dark holes once held eyes can’t move.  Slowly his body leans away.

“You asked.  I brought her to you.   Where’s the candy,  Mr Mills?” her voice starts to sing. 

Ms Maples is on a dolly.   Her skull sticking out, part of its skin covers what’s left of a face. Her pale skin shows signs of bruising.   Tied hands hold her together in a modified ball.  

“Oh please, give me the candy.  You adults are hard enough to deal with.  My sugar is low….I don’t know weekday I might do next.   Right, Ms Maples.” Isabella smiles. 

Mr Mills runs for the door.  Small feet move much faster than old feet. 

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1404507520

#mindlovemiserysmenagerie

Wordle #149 – Man’s Kind

Week 149.png

1. Cleft

2. Simple

3. Pearl

4. Altschmerz n. weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you’ve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.

5. Cheat

6. Name

7. Assemble

8. Meant

9. Lattice

10. Weak

11. Insidious adj. intended to entrap or beguile: stealthily treacherous ordeceitful: operating or proceeding in an inconspicuous or seeminglyharmless way but actually with grave effect

12. Let

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

“Let the weak and simple assemble their own hell.  Those with no name are meant for altschmertz.  Lattice work of cleft pearls called cheat.  That’s what mankind gift is.” Anubis drags a staff across the floor of the temple.

Noone speaks next.

She – Collage 197

Her train ride to Pankow showed her the beauty of the Spring thaw.  Delicate drops run free.  The ground clinched the precious glitter and turned them to flowers.  The world stole her breath as her feet hit the ground.  She danced among the broken souls.  Smiling and hugging all, her mission was to change the world.  She never noticed all the little cuts asking the way. 
She was found in the forest.  The rest were just empty suits, but oh how they despised her.  Noone seemed to notice they were less shattered afterward. 

Written as part of a challengen details are at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/02/26/writing-prompt-197-special-collage/
Quote contributed by http://mandibelle16.wordpress.com 

Wordle – Otherworldly

Week 144.png

1. Good

2. Enter

3. Tree

4. Mirabilis ((adj.) wondrous, remarkable, amazing)

5. Different

6. Abandon

7. Plausible

8. Lucida (the brightest star in a constellation)

9. Bald

10. Flaw

11. Apotropaic ((adj.) Intended to ward off evil.)

12. Grow

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

I watch.   A door grows through a flaw in an otherwise good tree. I enter a mirabilis world.  I abandon plausible outside. In a Royal purple universe constellations anchored by blinding lucida spread their apotropaic light.   

There is no evil here. 

Lost in Translation – Wordle 141

1. Escape

2. Exulansis (n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.)

3. Diabolist (activities designed to enlist the aid of devils, esp in witchcraftor sorcery, worship of devils or beliefs and teachings concerning the nature ofdevils, character or conduct that is devilish or fiendish; devilry)

4. Polite

5. Likeness

6. Fanfare

7. Seethe

8. Soften

9. Adroit (expert or nimble in the use of the hands or body.)

10. Drown

11. Mess

12. Accelerate

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 mind drowns in a soften mess of politeness. Escape wrestles seething as I push foward a pointless conversation.  I give in to your sea of  exulansis.  Those glazed eyes, an adroit maneuver.  Am I boring you to death or soaking in an alien language….

“I have lost you,  haven’t I?”  My look at the table between us. 

To which devil does one purchase this diabolist method from?   I’m asking myself a question she will never admit to. 

Tale Weaver #105: The Dark Side 02.02.17 – Our Song

I wake suddenly.   My arms and shoulders stiff.  A pale moon lights a room of familiar but tainted things.  Eyes search for what I know.  I expect you.  But no such luck.  A single thing is there for me.  

Whoosh, whoosh, Whoosh…. the wobbly fan pushes the stale air around.  

Our bed, a twisted mass of tired sheets.  Two flat pillows and a headboard.  If I could turn there would be dresser and a couple of nightstands.  The lights are all gone. They left out the window with the alarm clock. 

My restless ear listen for any trace of you.  The shuffling feet always give you away.  I wait.  I’ll manage to pull on the wires that hold me in place.  I reflect upon the splitting pain from the cocktail last served.  Something special…. you called it.

My dark home… Our dark home filled with divides from our own divides.  Its cold but wasn’t it always..  

I beg my brain to engage in the memory that ended here.   It refuses.  Instead, it amplifies the cracking of the house frame.  The clicking on of a furnace.  Traffic outside.  The branch against the house.  The one, I was supposed to cut..

The thought tatters and falls.  I sense you at the door.  You turned me away from it.   But we know you are there…

“What are you waiting for…. just get it over with! ” I break the silence with a terse stab.

“Baby, we can talk all night… But that ain’t getting us nowhere.” Her deadpan words hang in the darkness. 
*The last line borrowed from…

“Two outta three ain’t bad” preformed by Meatloaf, Written by John Steinman linked here https://youtu.be/k5hWWe-ts2s

Written as part of a challenge Tale weaver, details at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/02/02/tale-weaver-105-the-dark-side-02-02-17/

Dragon’s Liar

“It’s right there.  Come on! Come on look!” Alex yells at Jackie.  His arms thrusting violently toward the tree.

“Alex, there’s nothing there.  It’s an old tree.  You are stupid.  Dragons don’t love here it’s not ugly enough.  My dad says so.  He had one as a kid!” Jackie tugs on his ball cap.  His mind is on throwing a ball around.  Big kid stuff.  

“Your dad was going to build you a tree house.   You said.  I bet he knows the dragon lives here.” Alex kicks the trunk of the tree. “I saw him.  The dragon is green.  Shiny green, kinda dark like.  Sparkly. He is shy dragon.” 

“Did you hear it roar?  Everyone knows a dragon roars to tell you it’s there.  If you scare a dragon they torch you with their breath.  But I told you.  They live in ugly places.  They need mist and something called gloom.  We ain’t got that.”  Jackie throws the ball on the air.  He missing it and it bounces toward the tree.

“The dragon did that.  He wants you to go see him.” Alex flashes a smile at Jackie.  His little heart jumping out of his chest. 

“They can’t do that!”  Jackie stands his ground.

“You are scared!  Jackie is scared! He is so scared.”  Alex spins around telling the world.

“AM not!  I’ll show you.  I’ll show you! ” Jackie doesn’t move.

“Chicken!  Or do they need gloom too!” Alex crosses his arms.  His stiff body  says ‘I dare you’. 

“Ok. I’ll do it…” Jackie slowly walks over to the tree.

The ball rolls closer to the tree.  One green flash comes from the tree.  An eye clear as day blinks twice.

“Little Jackie Paper?”  something in the tree speaks.

Two boys run.