Sunday Whirl – Milling Dreams

Blindly wandering through the drizzle, my bad dream puts me in the middle of two hills. The gloom lifts to reveal a mill. I pause before I knock on the door. The door swings open. There stands a trim man dressed as a king.

My mouth opens but words fail to emerge.

Suddenly an alarm changes everything.

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Reborn Upon the Night

Two hands break the surface

Ooze separating with uneven sound

Grey film clings until bits slip away

Hands grow to forearms

The moonlight cares little

Whistling wind picks up leaves

They dance an unsightly dance

Mirroring chaos as they scatter about

Hollow grunt spills upon the breeze

Forearms bear shoulders

Clouds stretch thin above

Howl pierces the darkness

Echoes seem disinterested in replying

Shoulders yield a head topped torso

Its form testing movement

Tasting escape upon the night

Decay reborn as embodiment

Our fears break free to run wild

It soft footsteps allow shadows to part

The gentle tap upon the shoulder

As sincere as the handshake

Circles in the Air

Her mind weaves circles. The symbols are always there. She wipes her brow and closes her eyes.

The street is far more crowded than she thought it should be. Her fingers lightly squeeze a faded rose in her right hand. A insignificant scent drifts away. Much like Dawn as she finds a bench to hide on.

The city is a curious mystery. Nothing in Coldwater could prepare for the rush and bustle of people and more people. The masses hold a face that is there for her. It was foretold. The circle will be unbroken. Destiny and a purpose awaits her.

Her eyes strip away the faces from the crowd. His dark eyes and hair need to be here. Her soul demands it. Morning melts into afternoon but the faces never change.

She lifts up her backpack and thinks of a place to go. Still the circles are everywhere. She knows he is close.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/circle/”>Circle</a&gt;

Empty Space

Cobwebs fill the hollows Places where the heart once beat Polished stone simulated warmth Lovely looks aren’t always welcoming Memory has cruel plaster coating Imperfections glide through life Perfection has its chains

Ghost in the Condo – FFAW

“Mr Allen, we have your complaint about strange noises.” A dead voice of a bored man spills out of the phone.

“I’m one of twelve people with the same noises, the same lights! It’s hard to sleep with all this going on! Do you happen to live here?!” Martin yells into his cell phone.

“Mr Allen, we have your complaint about strange noises.” A dead voice of a bored man spills out of the phone.

“I’m one of twelve people with the same noises, the same lights! It’s hard to sleep with all this going on! Do you happen to live here?!” Martin yells into his cell phone.

“Well, sir. Your complaint is important to us..” the voice drones

“No! It’s not important to anyone not living here!” Martin spits venom”Listen, you idiot! I hear loud noises that go wa-WA-wa-WA-wa-WA then a popping sound. Then more rapid noises for ten seconds. Multicolored ghosts run across my windows! ”

“Sir! It’s just a Pacman game. The promotion goes on for three more days. How old are you? Don’t you know the damn game!” The voice stops

185 words (using few extra unused from previous challenges)

Floral Skirt

wordle333

1. pistil [the female reproductive part of a flower. The pistil, centrally located, typically consists of a swollen base, the ovary, which contains the potential seeds, or ovules; a stalk, or style, arising from the ovary; and a pollen-receptive tip, the stigma, variously shaped and often sticky.]

2. stamen [a stamen is a male reproductive organ of a flower. It produces the pollen. The stamen has two parts: the anther, and the stalk. The stalk is also called the filament.]

3. arabesque

4. skirt

5. socket

6. measure

7. loop

8. simmer

9. granny knot [The granny knot is a binding knot, used to secure a rope or line around an object.]

10. clutch

11. reverse

12. dawdle

Slowly, I dawdle down the dark street. My lone measure is a skirt. Loops of flowers, touching stamen and pistils. Arabesque lines clutching each other like granny knots. Eye sockets simmer as I take measure of its movements.