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/

Wordle – Fuzzy Thought 


1. Cloud

2. Crumble

3. Flight
4. Ambedo ((n.) a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life.)
5. Blackberry
6. Dazzle
7. Switch
8. Tide
9. Care
10. Voracious
11. Eminent ((adj.) high in station, rank, or repute; prominent; distinguished: conspicuous, signal, or noteworthy: lofty; high: prominent; projecting; protruding.)
12. Misbehave
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 clouded mind crumbles.  Tides of care take flight and dazzle my ambedo mood. Voracious blackberries take eminent roles.  They misbehave in whispers leading me from my troubles.

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

Writing Prompt 202 – The Other Me

I sit uneasy at the kitchen table.  While nothing was out of place, that is exactly the problem here.  I’m not going through all the trouble of cleaning when the dirty dishes rush back in the sink. The washbasin, a peripheral madness that draws clutter. 

But still, I imagine footsteps.   The girl and the invisible door are at play here.  She comes from the chamber of proverbial oddities. I have been there.   And truly owe several complocations in my life.   

Namely the other me.  This is where the cleaning comes from.   Its like a demented twin.  Everything I leave in my preferred state of chaos is ruined and organized.  I find the extra work of searching for any item in place doubles the wasted time organizing it. 

I use the corner of my eye to play a twisted game of mental tag. I like to refer to it as the needle in the dragon’s eye.  I’m just as likely to win as stabbing said dragon. The other me refers to it as the pariah and the marionette, the strings I only feel from tune to time.

So I nurse my coffee.   My mind is engaged in the intimate departure of logic.  Maybe the gravedigger’s maze is more accurate. The daylight has parted awhile back. I resist the dream connoisseur with more confessions from bedlam.

I’m drawn to the chair next to me sliding out.   I see his face… rather my own.  A waking nightmare continues. 

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/04/02/writing-prompt-202-its-all-in-the-title/

Wordle #147 – Vision

Wordle #147 “March 20th, 2017″

Week 147

1. Latch

2. Ballet

3. Levitate

4. Heliotrope ((n.) Any hairy plant belonging tothe genus Heliotropium, of the borage family, asH. arborescens, cultivated for its small, fragrantpurple flowers. Any of various other plants, asthe valerian or the winter heliotrope. Any plantthat turns toward the sun. A light tint of purple;reddish lavender. Surveying. an arrangement ofmirrors for reflecting sunlight from distantpoint to an observation station.)

5. Iridescence

6. Media

7. Passion

8. Harmony

9. Inseperable

10. Legs

11. Heat

12. Flashover ((n). The moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you’ve built up through decades of friction with the world. Electricity. a disruptivedischarge around or over the surface of a solid orliquid insulator. The moment of conflagration orcomplete incineration caused by super heated airor combustibles.)

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

 Ballet of levitation her legs latch my eyes.   I’m turned heliotrope to the Sun.  Harmony to passion.  The need is inseparable.  Heat becomes flashover. Upon her iridescent gaze, I reduce to media bit.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/03/20/wordle-147-march-20th-2017″/

Wordle -Escaping

Week 145.png

1. Crescent

2. Exotic

3. Ledge

4. Longanimity ((n.) patient endurance of hardship, injuries, or offense; forbearance.)
5. Filter
6. Stew
7. Pasty
8. Afflatus ((n.) inspiration; an impelling mental force acting from within. Divine communication of knowledge.)
9. Emerald
10. Jailer
11. Cringe

12. Noise
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
The crescent moon filters through a broken sky.  From my ledge, I look for the pasty jailer. I cringe with every noise.  The exotic emerald uniform is enough afflatus to drive me on.  My anger stews thinking of longanimity this has put me through.  

A well place rock solves most of my problems.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1364886960

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 

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/