“Turn at the third left just past the old barn.” Her words echo in my mind.
I wearily watch the road only to find a turnabout with multiple left turns. My mind reminds me she’s always been a turncoat. I have cleaned up her messes and hidden the bodies enough to be overworked.
The red and blue lights tell me that am at the right place and turning her in was way too easy.
Beware when you overwork the wrong person.
Part of two challenges
Six Sentence Stories
The cue is TURN
six sentences,any genre, hop around, link yours up too , have fun!
& The daily post ” Overworked ”
The cue fur the week…”Mark Twain or what Mark?”
She looks at me, then through me, finally past me.
“The reports of my death have been grossly exaggerated.” I respond to the question of what has happened to me not asked yet.
The reaction to my surprise return is not as pleasent as I hoped.
She looks away.and let’s the words slip “You are what almost killed me, but it made me stronger.”
“All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence.” I have lost the vibe I came here with. “You are well represented.”
The horizon stretches across a green valley neatly kept in place by rugged mountains. The sun light streams into the bowl of evergreens leaving a haziness in the dustance. Rough granite tears up the ground to show rough edges that sparkle.
A solitary figure watches nature’s enlightenment. A quick step and a log gives way careening to the valley.
Star light dances within the head of the hiker as boulders break his fall.
Layed out flat like a pancake. I have become buried under a personal lahar. Your searing emotional earthquake drawn upon fault lines unseen. I brace for aftershocks.
It’s a question of faults that causes the damage. The earthquake and landslide cares little about whom the fault belongs to.
Written as part of a challenge called six sentence stories, details are available at https://unchartedblogdotorg.wordpress.com/2016/10/26/welcome-to-six-sentence-stories-33/
“She said stick together.” I try to explain.
“They found her beat to death with an oak branch sticking out of her.” The deputy says
“I remember sticks and stones could break your bones….” my mind fits reality into the terms of real.
“Stick to the facts, sir.” His eyes burn into me.
“She disappeared and the underbrush hide her path beneath leaves and sticks.” I shake my head.
“You have seen nothing, but still stick to nothing and I don’t understand why?” He draws his handcuffs.
This week’s cue was STAR
SIX SENTENCES…no more, no less
LINK IT UP
Details at https://unchartedblogdotorg.wordpress.com/2016/10/05/its-the-six-sentence-story/
The cold blackness of space rained down on Prospectors Mountain. The early fall night stilled by the moonless night. The stats burned deep set into the sky. Tall pines reach up to try touching them.
Two stars looked down and reached back. A steady vibration slide through the air as both glowing orbs landed to wake up the night.
There was a distinct pain, one that tells of bad feelings long held. I arched my back as if that could reduce, relieve the obvious knife plunged deep. Such a kind friendly hand to deal such a blow.
I fade to black in the longest instant in memory. The approaching floor scares me back into the past when things were different. Back when things were simple to me, at least.
A little more
“Before you slip into unconsciousness, I’d like another kiss.” The soft voice mirrors an old song.
It seems the image fades upon the fleeting conscious fighting to stay another moment.
His dark feature sink and twist into points at the edges. His laugh not worldly anymore.
All good things must end, and bad things end slower. If there’s a next time she will listen to mother.
This week’s cue is minute.
I became lost in the moment. My mind hovering on the most minute details. If I could hope to hold on to the sliver of time trapped by within one minute.
My eyes want to believe the memory will endure. I collect sixty second scraps of life to build a dream. I know my chances are minuscule.
This weeks cue is puff!
The time in which something happens is relative to what happens simultaneously. An event of great anticipation takes place in a series of still images. Each image holding breath of the participants hostage until the next piece of life flashes before us.
Then it’s gone! The surrounding fire meant very little until it consumed a car with a lottery ticket that ended with at least three good numbers. Puff it’s gone