Sunday Whirl – Way to the Top

Low and tight, I grab at tree roots. My simple gravel path trimmed to a knife’s edge. My eyes caught a climb away from vertigo inspiring view. A stomach in knots, joins other spreading pains like gingham pattern.

I grab a branch to rise, only to receive a pine scented water spray when it slips slowly away.

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Wordle – Difference of Opinions

This week I am filling in – Wordle credit to Yves.

1. pint
2. chase
3. fists
4. cease
5. sleeping bag
6. octopus
7. marooned
8. metal
9. breathless
10. pennyworth
11. wastrel (noun). a wasteful or good-for-nothing person.
12. wanderjahr (noun). A year spent travelling abroad, typically immediately before or after a university or college course.

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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

“Wastrel?!” I stand breathless as my fists cease to clutch. “You, my dear are tighter than an octopus squeezing every pennyworth rather than chase fresh meat.”

“I’ll raise a pint to that metal you received from the wanderjahr spent marooned in your hometown.” She smiles in that way the ceases hope.

FFAW – Wardrobe malfunction

“I was a model for God’s sake!” She sneers at heart pathetic staff. “How could you let me go out wearing this? It says ‘I don’t care Do U?’ people will think I am a monster!”

The first lady throws the coat against the wall.

No one speaks. The eyes are locked on the floor it’ll be a long flight back.

She stands arms on hoops waiting for one of them to come tell her it’ll be alright. They don’t.

She reaches a glass of water. Her throat dry freedom the outside air.

Slowly the water freezes dripping ice over the side.

“No one say a word” whispers a staffer

111 words

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!

Sunday Whirl – Self Image

I’m hiding in a close black corner called home. I belong here were I was put. I skip the laugh to be invisible.

And you call me a cardboard cutout.

Wordle – My Demons

1. Parka

2. Raise

3. Security

4. Absorption

5. Offend

6. Nearby

7. Bewilder

8. Matchbook

9. Abrasion

10. Semicircle

11. Noticeable

12. Alice and Wonderland Syndrome

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_in_Wonderland_syndrome

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’m a bit bewildered.” I raise my head from my parka hood. “Nearby, my empty matchbook appears offended by its burnt appearance. I needed you for security. Light, noticeable security issue for me.”

A semicircle of demons speak in quiet words. Abrasion is their language. They know my mind lives through absorption and they know it.

“You are in my hand!!” I shiver “Stop calling it Alice and Wonderland syndrome! You aren’t big enough to hurt me. I’m bigger than this room.”

Photo Challenge #213 – Stuck in the Mud

– Nicolas Bruno

Desmond began to feel that sinking feeling. Audrey seemed more distance, like she had turned her back on their future. Their conversations seemed to have an unseen hand waiting to cut in at any time.

“Are you listening? There’s a reason it feels like I’m a big fish in a little pond.” Audrey’s words plunge into silence.

“Dear, there will always be times we feel out of place.” Desmond reels himself into conversation. “Too many times the troubles get all the attention. It would be a good time for us to get away.”

“You know I always felt being on a beach would be where I would bloom. But I always seem to be going off the deep end.” Audrey pauses waiting for a reaction. She stares at her phone awaiting the next line.

FFAW – Unwelcome Guest

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!

“She said he would come at Noon.” My eyes reading my watch carefully. “Naturally, his face is in shadows.”

My pulse quickens. My throat seems instantly dry. Nervousness is my condition. I hesitate to even hesitate. My eyes widen as the dark man flows down my alley, ever closer he comes.

“He has no scythe. He isn’t a large man.” My mind picking apart Death in an effort not to believe. “But no discernable face….”

“Fortune tellers.. I am trusting a lady whom spirits discuss the living. Maybe I’m crazy.” Myself turns on me.

I see his gaze upon me. His eyes the midnight sky. He fades into the shadows.

I look again at the watch. His cold hand touches my right shoulder. I struggle to walk. My body on the floor stares up at me. Never a chance to say goodbye.

The man with no discernable face beckons me away.

151 words

FFAW – Outdated

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Yarnspinnerr. Thank you Yarnspinnerr!

Whirl, whirl, whirl

The slightly lopsided sound gently rings through the pavilion. Steamy air rolled into more humid air.

A few workers mill about. Innocently.
I know they are here to replace me.

Their heavy gaze from their empty eyes look upon me. They wait to be lifted up to teach me. Their grimy wrenches and chipped screwdrivers in holsters. Instruments of destruction on display for all to see.

My elegant blades spin like the millions of times before. I take a subtle dip here and there. But push the thick air around. I create breezes.

They don’t know I can sense my replacement. Its image gleams on the cardboard box. Fat, pudgy palm tree blades… how well the snow will cling to them in winter.

Still I spin my elegant blades.

Still they wait to tear me down.

139 words

Sunday Whirl – Waiting for the Other Shoe

A small cringe closes upon me. Like a wild wolf cajoling me, your practice of heaping praise seems more than kind. My eyes close to hide the blight called twisted love.

FFAW – Home Fires

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!

Allen stirs at the embers of the fire. The flames have grown weary, flickering hesitantly and disappear. The heat still reaches out on long fingers alternating with touches of chill. Undeterred, he fans at them to coax a little more life. Tiny ashen flurries dance around him barely visible in the night.

His face shows the taste of desperation. Lines set about his eyes seem to catch every shadow the palid glow can forge. The conflict of knowing the coldness of tomorrow’s ash and hopes that the flames return fight out within his head. The only response is continuous stirring.

“Seriously, you’re making any chance of talking impossible!” Allen tries to break through the hard exterior of his enraged wife you no avail.

Yet still he stirs the embers going the fire returns.

132 words